Upside-down kingdom
Commentary
In his classic book, GulliverÕs Travels, Jonathan Swift takes the reader on an adventure through other lands. And in those imaginary places, we discover that things are (on the surface, at least) quite different from the way they are here.
If they werenÕt so familiar to us, JesusÕ teachings might read a little like Captain GulliverÕs accounts -- strange and exotic. Jesus describes a way of living that is quite different from the way we live here. And in New Testament parlance, the difference is found in the distinction between two kingdoms.
Just as Gulliver is out of place in each of the strange lands he visits, so, too, the follower of Christ. This world that is native to us becomes foreign as our citizenship transfers to heaven. And for the balance of our days here, we live with foreign peculiarities as our hallmark. Perhaps those around us will point and giggle when they observe our strange ways, for we are determined to be strange.
In a world that is backwards with sin, the followers of Christ are called to reverse their ways and walk forward -- to be right-side-up in a world that is upside-down. To some, our redeemed reorientation will be an example. To others, it will be an oddity. To others still, it will be an offense. No matter. We are no longer of this world, but rather we live for the world to come. Where sin is the fashion, we follow the customs of the converted.
From a very young age, we show that the human instinct is to try to fit in where we are. The ChristianÕs contrary calling, however, is to fit in where we are not. We live for the someday reign of God. We live out his will Òon earth as in heaven.Ó One day, our chosen lifestyle will make perfect sense. In the meantime, however, we live in an upside-down kingdom.
Jeremiah 17:5-10
You sit on the examining table and the doctor, with his little rubber-ended device, strikes your knee in just the right place. Involuntarily, your leg kicks forward, and the doctor nods in affirmation that your reflexes are good.
Imagine, however, that your leg involuntarily kicked backward in response to the tapping of the doctor. It would still qualify as a reflex, but not a good reflex.
God had discovered a bad reflex in some of JeremiahÕs contemporaries. They were kicking the wrong way, as it were. And our selected passage features both the diagnosis and the prognosis for their backward condition.
The central issue was trust. The options were trusting in the Lord, with all the accompanying benefits (Jeremiah 17:7-8), or trusting in mortals and flesh, with the inevitable consequences (17:5-6). It would not be an exaggeration to say that is always the choice we face.
It is so much our natural (albeit fallen) reflex to trust in mortals and in flesh that we might not recognize its backwardness. From before we were born, it was flesh that nurtured and protected us. From the moment we were born, it was flesh that welcomed, warmed, comforted, and nourished us. And for some number of years, flesh is all we know.
The psalmist looked back, of course, and saw in faithÕs hindsight that the Lord had a hand where only flesh seemed responsible. ÒIt was you who formed my inward parts,Ó he wrote; Òyou knit me together in my motherÕs wombÓ (Psalm 139:13). And surely a retrospective recognition of GodÕs presence and work in our lives at a time before we knew him becomes a part of all of our testimonies. Still, in our conscious experience, flesh comes first.
Then there is the ever-present pride factor. In our misguided pride, we have a strong preference for self-reliance. We would rather take control than relinquish it (or, perhaps more accurately, admit that we do not actually have it). And so, again, the needle on our compass points toward things fleshly and mortal rather than to the Lord.
We have, too, a preference for things visible. Our immortal, invisible God stands at a great disadvantage among creatures for whom seeing is so often believing. Jerusalem was warned that Egypt was no stronger or more reliable than a broken reed (Isaiah 36:6), but still there is something naturally appealing about help that we can see and hear and count.
Perhaps our idiomatic reasoning that Òa bird in the hand is worth two in the bushÓ reveals our underlying problem with God. Again and again we are tempted to think that the lesser resource we have in our hand is more certain and reliable than the God we canÕt see and canÕt control.
Time and again in scripture, the people who do not trust in God look like fools. Young DavidÕs faith when facing Goliath proved wrong all those Israelite soldiers who ran and hid. Joshua and CalebÕs trust in God lived on long after their faithless peers were buried in the wilderness. And the disciples were chided for panicking in a storm when the Lord was on board.
We look back on the biblical accounts of those who trust in the flesh and those who trust in the Lord, and the choice seems clear to us. But conscious choices are not the same as unconscious reflexes. And when we are in the moment -- some trouble, some threat, some crisis -- then circumstances tap our knee, and we show what our reflexes are.
1 Corinthians 15:12-20
Many folks in our culture seem content to relegate Jesus to the category of historyÕs greatest figures. His life was exemplary, his teachings compelling, and his impact immense. And that seems to be enough for them.
For Paul, however, that is not enough.
For Paul, and the rest of first-century Christianity, JesusÕ impact was not remotely what we think of it as today. They lived in a world that had mostly not heard of Jesus of Nazareth. And the small corner of the world that had heard of him had mostly rejected him. His impact, therefore, did not stretch unmistakably over time and space as it does for us.
Meanwhile, the compelling teachings of Jesus may not have figured as prominently in the early church as they do in our churches. New Testament scholars date many of the epistles earlier than several of the Gospels. And we readily see that Paul does not routinely quote the teachings of Jesus as a pastor and preacher today does. So it is likely that those first-century Christians scattered around the Mediterranean were more aware of the message about Jesus than any collection of messages from Jesus.
And that message about Jesus -- the gospel -- was not a message about his exemplary life. It was a message about his death and his resurrection.
Even the four Gospel accounts, from which we get most of our information about JesusÕ life and the best collections of his teachings, spend a disproportionate share of their records on just one week of JesusÕ life. For even in the accounts of his life, the central issue is still his death and his resurrection.
Paul would have been uneasy, therefore, among those moderns -- including some church folks -- who prefer JesusÕ life and teachings to his death and resurrection. The doctrine of ChristÕs resurrection was not optional for Paul; it was essential. If Jesus was not raised from the dead, then all of our congregations might as well fold up their tents and go home. We have no reason to exist. We have no gospel to proclaim. And if Jesus was not raised from the dead, then all of us Christians might as well live for today and live for the flesh (see 1 Corinthians 15:32), for we have no eternal hope, nothing to live for beyond this earthly life.
The Apostle Paul was arguing against a theological position that probably does not appear in most of our pews. He took issue with those who claimed there was no resurrection of the dead by asserting that then Christ was not raised from the dead.
The heresy in our churches is a different one, though the stakes are just as high. The folks in our culture are not so likely to deny the notion of the resurrection of the dead; quite the contrary, they assume it (or something like it). For them, however, ChristÕs resurrection is irrelevant, for they presume that some spiritual life after death is built into human beings.
And so, as in PaulÕs day, the doctrine of the resurrection -- and, specifically, the import and effect of ChristÕs resurrection -- is in the balance. The average American churchgoer likely assumes that an afterlife awaits all souls, and he or she probably does not take seriously the prospect of bodily resurrection. Accordingly, the saving death of Christ remains important in peopleÕs minds for the fate of our eternal souls, but the resurrection of Christ lacks resonance and relevance for many church folks. Hence, PaulÕs Gospel still needs to be preached.
Luke 6:17-26
The landscape is different from MatthewÕs famous account of the Sermon on the Mount (Òhe went up the mountainÓ in Matthew 5:1; Òhe came down and stood on a level placeÓ in Luke 6:17), but the content of the two collections of teachings is very similar. The teachings found in Matthew 6 do not appear in Luke 6, but much of what Jesus taught in Matthew 5 and 7 does appear here in Luke 6.
In both MatthewÕs ÒSermon on the MountÓ and LukeÕs ÒSermon on the Plain,Ó JesusÕ teachings begin with that cherished series of statements commonly called the Beatitudes. Many of us have grown up seeing these memorable phrases elegantly printed on pictures, plaques, and posters in church hallways, Sunday school rooms, and perhaps even in our homes. The elegance and sweetness of their presentation, however, belies their hard-nosed content.
LukeÕs version might be said to be more down to earth than MatthewÕs, for Luke focuses a bit more on the physical -- e.g., Òpoor in spiritÓ and Òhunger and thirst for righteousnessÓ in Matthew compared to simply ÒpoorÓ and ÒhungryÓ in Luke. And LukeÕs version is not limited to the list of ÒblessedÓ statements found in Matthew, but also includes a series of ÒwoeÓ statements.
Regardless of whether the emphasis is physical or spiritual, the statements are a study of contrasts. Jesus appears to be predicting a new polar shift -- north will be south, and south will be north, it seems, on the day that these teachings anticipate. The poor, hungry, mournful, and persecuted will all enjoy rewards. Meanwhile, the rich, full, and carefree will see their fortunes reversed.
We typically think of JesusÕ end-times teachings as coming later in his ministry. While these blessing and woe statements assume a final day when justice will be achieved, they do not appear alongside other Òfinal dayÓ teachings and parables in Luke (e.g., Luke 17:22-35, 19:12-27, 21:5-36). Rather, these statements occur in a context of JesusÕ ethical teachings. The principle seems to be that our ethics -- how we live our daily lives -- are a product of what we know is to come. I live this day with an eye on the day.
Human beings do that routinely, of course. The anticipated requirements or rewards of some future event stretch back into the present and affect our present behavior. The influence and impact of the future on the present is evident in everything from a student studying for a test to a young couple making out their will.
All of our prudent human preparations -- our studying, our wills, our investing and saving, our insurance policies and our pensions -- are comparatively shortsighted up against these teachings of Jesus. The follower of Christ lives with a long view. He or she is neither preoccupied by riches, on the one hand, nor crushed by persecution, on the other. We have been taught to live for another day.
Application
In what strange land do folks leap for joy when they are hated, reviled, and excluded? In what parallel universe do the poor, the hungry, and the persecuted feel good about their prospects? Where do you find people who are uneasy when others speak well of them, but who figure they must be doing something right when they are defamed?
For all of his famous travels, Gulliver never visited such an upside-down place. But that is the look and style of the present kingdom of God.
For too long, too many American Christians have operated under the misapprehension that being a Christian is equivalent to being a good person. And even that notion -- good person -- is a watered-down concept in our day. In our middle-class respectability, we have relegated the idea of being radically different from the world around us to the province of fanatics and cults.
But for all of the sweet calligraphy in which weÕve seen them written, these familiar teachings of Jesus from Luke 6 are meant for a people called to be radically different. People who donÕt fit in very well in this world. People who donÕt try to.
Paul insists that our hope in Christ is not Òfor this life onlyÓ (1 Corinthians 15:19), but still we are tempted to live for this life only. This life is our natural preoccupation. It takes a powerful redemption to wean us away from what we see and know here, reorienting us to a time and place we do not see yet.
Such is the out-of-place calling of those who would live as part of GodÕs tiny beachhead in enemy territory. Our ultimate allegiance lies elsewhere, making us painfully different from those around us. We live strangely, exercising our redeemed reflexes: trusting God, loving enemies, turning cheeks. And while the world points and giggles, we hope that at least a few of those around us will come to recognize that we are the ones who are right-side-up.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 6:17-26. ÒAre you talking to me?Ó The insistent question made famous by Robert DeNiro might rightly be our response to JesusÕ woe statements in our Luke lection for today.
If Jesus called out ÒwoeÓ to wicked people whose lives are scandalized by sin, to pagans and heretics who reject the truth, or to irreligious folk who pay no attention to God, then we could sit comfortably in church and listen to this passage. It is, however, an uncomfortable passage for so many of us because the targets of JesusÕ words of woe sound much closer to home: folks who are rich, full, laughing, and well-respected.
You and I serve different congregations, of course, but doesnÕt that sound like a description of your people? Rich, full, laughing, and well-respected? It sounds like mine.
Of course, many of the people in our pews have exempted themselves from any biblical reference to the ÒrichÓ because we Americans always think the term applies to someone else. The out-of-sight income and wealth of some athletes, entertainers, and CEOs in our society make the rest of us think we are not rich. We kid ourselves, though. And even if we manage to deny that we are rich, we cannot deny that we are full. Our middle-class garages, basements, attics, refrigerators, cupboards, and stomachs all say otherwise.
Thus we are left to ponder the sobering possibility that Jesus is saying ÒwoeÓ to us. And if so, then why? What have we done wrong? Just because we have enough for our families to be comfortable and happy -- is that sin? IsnÕt that the kind of prosperity God promised his people in certain times and places?
The Greek word (ouai) translated ÒwoeÓ should not be understood as an expression of condemnation. When we exclaim, ÒWoe is me,Ó we are not scolding ourselves; more likely, we are feeling sorry for ourselves. And so when Jesus says, ÒWoe,Ó to us, we should not sense his finger pointing so much as his heart breaking.
Assorted television and radio spots these days tell us that Òfriends donÕt let friends drive drunk.Ó In the midst of the feel-good, carefree party, someone has to be sober enough to say, ÒI canÕt let you get behind the wheel right now.Ó
Jesus is that sober voice here. He knows how easily intoxicated we human beings may be by riches and abundance, by good times and good reputations. And if our judgment is impaired, we may run off the road -- lose our way, miss our destination, and worse.
When Jesus addresses folks who are rich, full, laughing, and well-respected, he is speaking to us. And when he sees us living under the influence of the worldÕs distractions, he recognizes the dangers, and he cries out, ÒWoe!Ó
2) Luke 6:17-26. Our conventional portraits of Jesus with the multitudes are typically very placid, happy images. In the early part of this passage, however, Luke suggests a nearly chaotic scene. ÒAll in the crowd were trying to touch himÓ (Luke 6:19), Luke reports. What a madhouse that must have been. Everyone pressing in, jockeying for position, necessarily elbowing others out of the way so that they themselves can get closer.
This is not the peaceful multitude sitting on the green hillsides listening to the Master teach. This is a desperate group of people who want to be healed, Òfor power came out from him and healed them all.Ó
On the outside, my congregation, probably like yours, does not look disorderly and anxious. Deep within, though, I know that the spirit is very much like that of the crowd in this passage. They are desperate to be healed, and they just want to know what they can do to touch Jesus.
A few chapters later (8:42b-48), Luke offers a close-up of such a desperate individual in such a pressing crowd. Remarkably, the hemorrhaging woman did not start by getting JesusÕ attention (which was the more conventional route people took to being healed by him). Instead, she managed to tap into his power, and that is what got his attention. In the midst of a crowd that was pressing against him (see 8:42, 45), one person touched him with results. Her touch was apparently different, for she reached out in faith. And her faith becomes the model, then, for our congregations full of people who are eager to touch him, too.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 1
The writer of Psalm 1 has created a timeless image of human existence as a tree. The image of a tree allows the poet to proclaim in graphic terms the effects of having, and not having, a viable relationship with God. The tree, as a durable life form, symbolizes well the significance and importance of seeking and living a faithful life.
The good tree, according to the psalmist, is positioned by an abundant source of water. Having good soil and plenty of water, the tree thrives and grows. The psalmist points to the tree and says to us, ÒThis tree can be a picture of your life -- rooted, productive, truly alive, beautiful.Ó
ÒHow can we do that?Ó we ask. ÒHow can a life have all these dimensions?Ó
The psalmist is ready with an answer. First, there are things to avoid. People whose lives are rooted and growing donÕt follow the advice of the wicked, they donÕt take the paths sinners take, and they donÕt associate with cynics and scoffers (vv. 1-3). These are habits and practices and relationships that take us away from good soil and good water.
For the psalmist, the path to a happy life, nurtured and blessed by God, requires only the observation of one discipline: Those whose lives are flourishing, whose lives are truly happy, are the ones who take Òdelight in the law of the Lord.Ó
Translating the Hebrew word torah as law is sometimes misleading, even though it is by far the most common rendering of the word. The problem comes, however, when we use our American connotation of what ÒlawÓ means to interpret what torah means -- they are not the same. Law in our culture consists of statutes, ordinances, prohibitions, and directives. And there is certainly some of that in the Hebrew torah. However, if we limit our understanding of torah only to enforceable doÕs and donÕts we miss the significance of what the psalmist is trying to tell us. Life does not flourish simply because the rules are kept.
The idea of torah, while including doÕs and donÕts, is really about learning GodÕs way of doing things. Law is meant for instruction rather than enforcement. No one has ever forced anyone to live a meaningful and happy life. These are things we learn.
Understanding the word law this way helps to highlight the contrast the psalmist has set up between the ÒadviceÓ of the wicked and the ÒpathÓ of sinners as opposed to GodÕs Òteaching,Ó GodÕs way. It also helps to complete the image of the tree. The water and the soil that enriches life and makes it whole is not blind obedience to a set of rules. It is when we are nurtured on GodÕs truth, and we learn GodÕs way that true happiness and wholeness become the fruit of our faithfulness.
If they werenÕt so familiar to us, JesusÕ teachings might read a little like Captain GulliverÕs accounts -- strange and exotic. Jesus describes a way of living that is quite different from the way we live here. And in New Testament parlance, the difference is found in the distinction between two kingdoms.
Just as Gulliver is out of place in each of the strange lands he visits, so, too, the follower of Christ. This world that is native to us becomes foreign as our citizenship transfers to heaven. And for the balance of our days here, we live with foreign peculiarities as our hallmark. Perhaps those around us will point and giggle when they observe our strange ways, for we are determined to be strange.
In a world that is backwards with sin, the followers of Christ are called to reverse their ways and walk forward -- to be right-side-up in a world that is upside-down. To some, our redeemed reorientation will be an example. To others, it will be an oddity. To others still, it will be an offense. No matter. We are no longer of this world, but rather we live for the world to come. Where sin is the fashion, we follow the customs of the converted.
From a very young age, we show that the human instinct is to try to fit in where we are. The ChristianÕs contrary calling, however, is to fit in where we are not. We live for the someday reign of God. We live out his will Òon earth as in heaven.Ó One day, our chosen lifestyle will make perfect sense. In the meantime, however, we live in an upside-down kingdom.
Jeremiah 17:5-10
You sit on the examining table and the doctor, with his little rubber-ended device, strikes your knee in just the right place. Involuntarily, your leg kicks forward, and the doctor nods in affirmation that your reflexes are good.
Imagine, however, that your leg involuntarily kicked backward in response to the tapping of the doctor. It would still qualify as a reflex, but not a good reflex.
God had discovered a bad reflex in some of JeremiahÕs contemporaries. They were kicking the wrong way, as it were. And our selected passage features both the diagnosis and the prognosis for their backward condition.
The central issue was trust. The options were trusting in the Lord, with all the accompanying benefits (Jeremiah 17:7-8), or trusting in mortals and flesh, with the inevitable consequences (17:5-6). It would not be an exaggeration to say that is always the choice we face.
It is so much our natural (albeit fallen) reflex to trust in mortals and in flesh that we might not recognize its backwardness. From before we were born, it was flesh that nurtured and protected us. From the moment we were born, it was flesh that welcomed, warmed, comforted, and nourished us. And for some number of years, flesh is all we know.
The psalmist looked back, of course, and saw in faithÕs hindsight that the Lord had a hand where only flesh seemed responsible. ÒIt was you who formed my inward parts,Ó he wrote; Òyou knit me together in my motherÕs wombÓ (Psalm 139:13). And surely a retrospective recognition of GodÕs presence and work in our lives at a time before we knew him becomes a part of all of our testimonies. Still, in our conscious experience, flesh comes first.
Then there is the ever-present pride factor. In our misguided pride, we have a strong preference for self-reliance. We would rather take control than relinquish it (or, perhaps more accurately, admit that we do not actually have it). And so, again, the needle on our compass points toward things fleshly and mortal rather than to the Lord.
We have, too, a preference for things visible. Our immortal, invisible God stands at a great disadvantage among creatures for whom seeing is so often believing. Jerusalem was warned that Egypt was no stronger or more reliable than a broken reed (Isaiah 36:6), but still there is something naturally appealing about help that we can see and hear and count.
Perhaps our idiomatic reasoning that Òa bird in the hand is worth two in the bushÓ reveals our underlying problem with God. Again and again we are tempted to think that the lesser resource we have in our hand is more certain and reliable than the God we canÕt see and canÕt control.
Time and again in scripture, the people who do not trust in God look like fools. Young DavidÕs faith when facing Goliath proved wrong all those Israelite soldiers who ran and hid. Joshua and CalebÕs trust in God lived on long after their faithless peers were buried in the wilderness. And the disciples were chided for panicking in a storm when the Lord was on board.
We look back on the biblical accounts of those who trust in the flesh and those who trust in the Lord, and the choice seems clear to us. But conscious choices are not the same as unconscious reflexes. And when we are in the moment -- some trouble, some threat, some crisis -- then circumstances tap our knee, and we show what our reflexes are.
1 Corinthians 15:12-20
Many folks in our culture seem content to relegate Jesus to the category of historyÕs greatest figures. His life was exemplary, his teachings compelling, and his impact immense. And that seems to be enough for them.
For Paul, however, that is not enough.
For Paul, and the rest of first-century Christianity, JesusÕ impact was not remotely what we think of it as today. They lived in a world that had mostly not heard of Jesus of Nazareth. And the small corner of the world that had heard of him had mostly rejected him. His impact, therefore, did not stretch unmistakably over time and space as it does for us.
Meanwhile, the compelling teachings of Jesus may not have figured as prominently in the early church as they do in our churches. New Testament scholars date many of the epistles earlier than several of the Gospels. And we readily see that Paul does not routinely quote the teachings of Jesus as a pastor and preacher today does. So it is likely that those first-century Christians scattered around the Mediterranean were more aware of the message about Jesus than any collection of messages from Jesus.
And that message about Jesus -- the gospel -- was not a message about his exemplary life. It was a message about his death and his resurrection.
Even the four Gospel accounts, from which we get most of our information about JesusÕ life and the best collections of his teachings, spend a disproportionate share of their records on just one week of JesusÕ life. For even in the accounts of his life, the central issue is still his death and his resurrection.
Paul would have been uneasy, therefore, among those moderns -- including some church folks -- who prefer JesusÕ life and teachings to his death and resurrection. The doctrine of ChristÕs resurrection was not optional for Paul; it was essential. If Jesus was not raised from the dead, then all of our congregations might as well fold up their tents and go home. We have no reason to exist. We have no gospel to proclaim. And if Jesus was not raised from the dead, then all of us Christians might as well live for today and live for the flesh (see 1 Corinthians 15:32), for we have no eternal hope, nothing to live for beyond this earthly life.
The Apostle Paul was arguing against a theological position that probably does not appear in most of our pews. He took issue with those who claimed there was no resurrection of the dead by asserting that then Christ was not raised from the dead.
The heresy in our churches is a different one, though the stakes are just as high. The folks in our culture are not so likely to deny the notion of the resurrection of the dead; quite the contrary, they assume it (or something like it). For them, however, ChristÕs resurrection is irrelevant, for they presume that some spiritual life after death is built into human beings.
And so, as in PaulÕs day, the doctrine of the resurrection -- and, specifically, the import and effect of ChristÕs resurrection -- is in the balance. The average American churchgoer likely assumes that an afterlife awaits all souls, and he or she probably does not take seriously the prospect of bodily resurrection. Accordingly, the saving death of Christ remains important in peopleÕs minds for the fate of our eternal souls, but the resurrection of Christ lacks resonance and relevance for many church folks. Hence, PaulÕs Gospel still needs to be preached.
Luke 6:17-26
The landscape is different from MatthewÕs famous account of the Sermon on the Mount (Òhe went up the mountainÓ in Matthew 5:1; Òhe came down and stood on a level placeÓ in Luke 6:17), but the content of the two collections of teachings is very similar. The teachings found in Matthew 6 do not appear in Luke 6, but much of what Jesus taught in Matthew 5 and 7 does appear here in Luke 6.
In both MatthewÕs ÒSermon on the MountÓ and LukeÕs ÒSermon on the Plain,Ó JesusÕ teachings begin with that cherished series of statements commonly called the Beatitudes. Many of us have grown up seeing these memorable phrases elegantly printed on pictures, plaques, and posters in church hallways, Sunday school rooms, and perhaps even in our homes. The elegance and sweetness of their presentation, however, belies their hard-nosed content.
LukeÕs version might be said to be more down to earth than MatthewÕs, for Luke focuses a bit more on the physical -- e.g., Òpoor in spiritÓ and Òhunger and thirst for righteousnessÓ in Matthew compared to simply ÒpoorÓ and ÒhungryÓ in Luke. And LukeÕs version is not limited to the list of ÒblessedÓ statements found in Matthew, but also includes a series of ÒwoeÓ statements.
Regardless of whether the emphasis is physical or spiritual, the statements are a study of contrasts. Jesus appears to be predicting a new polar shift -- north will be south, and south will be north, it seems, on the day that these teachings anticipate. The poor, hungry, mournful, and persecuted will all enjoy rewards. Meanwhile, the rich, full, and carefree will see their fortunes reversed.
We typically think of JesusÕ end-times teachings as coming later in his ministry. While these blessing and woe statements assume a final day when justice will be achieved, they do not appear alongside other Òfinal dayÓ teachings and parables in Luke (e.g., Luke 17:22-35, 19:12-27, 21:5-36). Rather, these statements occur in a context of JesusÕ ethical teachings. The principle seems to be that our ethics -- how we live our daily lives -- are a product of what we know is to come. I live this day with an eye on the day.
Human beings do that routinely, of course. The anticipated requirements or rewards of some future event stretch back into the present and affect our present behavior. The influence and impact of the future on the present is evident in everything from a student studying for a test to a young couple making out their will.
All of our prudent human preparations -- our studying, our wills, our investing and saving, our insurance policies and our pensions -- are comparatively shortsighted up against these teachings of Jesus. The follower of Christ lives with a long view. He or she is neither preoccupied by riches, on the one hand, nor crushed by persecution, on the other. We have been taught to live for another day.
Application
In what strange land do folks leap for joy when they are hated, reviled, and excluded? In what parallel universe do the poor, the hungry, and the persecuted feel good about their prospects? Where do you find people who are uneasy when others speak well of them, but who figure they must be doing something right when they are defamed?
For all of his famous travels, Gulliver never visited such an upside-down place. But that is the look and style of the present kingdom of God.
For too long, too many American Christians have operated under the misapprehension that being a Christian is equivalent to being a good person. And even that notion -- good person -- is a watered-down concept in our day. In our middle-class respectability, we have relegated the idea of being radically different from the world around us to the province of fanatics and cults.
But for all of the sweet calligraphy in which weÕve seen them written, these familiar teachings of Jesus from Luke 6 are meant for a people called to be radically different. People who donÕt fit in very well in this world. People who donÕt try to.
Paul insists that our hope in Christ is not Òfor this life onlyÓ (1 Corinthians 15:19), but still we are tempted to live for this life only. This life is our natural preoccupation. It takes a powerful redemption to wean us away from what we see and know here, reorienting us to a time and place we do not see yet.
Such is the out-of-place calling of those who would live as part of GodÕs tiny beachhead in enemy territory. Our ultimate allegiance lies elsewhere, making us painfully different from those around us. We live strangely, exercising our redeemed reflexes: trusting God, loving enemies, turning cheeks. And while the world points and giggles, we hope that at least a few of those around us will come to recognize that we are the ones who are right-side-up.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 6:17-26. ÒAre you talking to me?Ó The insistent question made famous by Robert DeNiro might rightly be our response to JesusÕ woe statements in our Luke lection for today.
If Jesus called out ÒwoeÓ to wicked people whose lives are scandalized by sin, to pagans and heretics who reject the truth, or to irreligious folk who pay no attention to God, then we could sit comfortably in church and listen to this passage. It is, however, an uncomfortable passage for so many of us because the targets of JesusÕ words of woe sound much closer to home: folks who are rich, full, laughing, and well-respected.
You and I serve different congregations, of course, but doesnÕt that sound like a description of your people? Rich, full, laughing, and well-respected? It sounds like mine.
Of course, many of the people in our pews have exempted themselves from any biblical reference to the ÒrichÓ because we Americans always think the term applies to someone else. The out-of-sight income and wealth of some athletes, entertainers, and CEOs in our society make the rest of us think we are not rich. We kid ourselves, though. And even if we manage to deny that we are rich, we cannot deny that we are full. Our middle-class garages, basements, attics, refrigerators, cupboards, and stomachs all say otherwise.
Thus we are left to ponder the sobering possibility that Jesus is saying ÒwoeÓ to us. And if so, then why? What have we done wrong? Just because we have enough for our families to be comfortable and happy -- is that sin? IsnÕt that the kind of prosperity God promised his people in certain times and places?
The Greek word (ouai) translated ÒwoeÓ should not be understood as an expression of condemnation. When we exclaim, ÒWoe is me,Ó we are not scolding ourselves; more likely, we are feeling sorry for ourselves. And so when Jesus says, ÒWoe,Ó to us, we should not sense his finger pointing so much as his heart breaking.
Assorted television and radio spots these days tell us that Òfriends donÕt let friends drive drunk.Ó In the midst of the feel-good, carefree party, someone has to be sober enough to say, ÒI canÕt let you get behind the wheel right now.Ó
Jesus is that sober voice here. He knows how easily intoxicated we human beings may be by riches and abundance, by good times and good reputations. And if our judgment is impaired, we may run off the road -- lose our way, miss our destination, and worse.
When Jesus addresses folks who are rich, full, laughing, and well-respected, he is speaking to us. And when he sees us living under the influence of the worldÕs distractions, he recognizes the dangers, and he cries out, ÒWoe!Ó
2) Luke 6:17-26. Our conventional portraits of Jesus with the multitudes are typically very placid, happy images. In the early part of this passage, however, Luke suggests a nearly chaotic scene. ÒAll in the crowd were trying to touch himÓ (Luke 6:19), Luke reports. What a madhouse that must have been. Everyone pressing in, jockeying for position, necessarily elbowing others out of the way so that they themselves can get closer.
This is not the peaceful multitude sitting on the green hillsides listening to the Master teach. This is a desperate group of people who want to be healed, Òfor power came out from him and healed them all.Ó
On the outside, my congregation, probably like yours, does not look disorderly and anxious. Deep within, though, I know that the spirit is very much like that of the crowd in this passage. They are desperate to be healed, and they just want to know what they can do to touch Jesus.
A few chapters later (8:42b-48), Luke offers a close-up of such a desperate individual in such a pressing crowd. Remarkably, the hemorrhaging woman did not start by getting JesusÕ attention (which was the more conventional route people took to being healed by him). Instead, she managed to tap into his power, and that is what got his attention. In the midst of a crowd that was pressing against him (see 8:42, 45), one person touched him with results. Her touch was apparently different, for she reached out in faith. And her faith becomes the model, then, for our congregations full of people who are eager to touch him, too.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 1
The writer of Psalm 1 has created a timeless image of human existence as a tree. The image of a tree allows the poet to proclaim in graphic terms the effects of having, and not having, a viable relationship with God. The tree, as a durable life form, symbolizes well the significance and importance of seeking and living a faithful life.
The good tree, according to the psalmist, is positioned by an abundant source of water. Having good soil and plenty of water, the tree thrives and grows. The psalmist points to the tree and says to us, ÒThis tree can be a picture of your life -- rooted, productive, truly alive, beautiful.Ó
ÒHow can we do that?Ó we ask. ÒHow can a life have all these dimensions?Ó
The psalmist is ready with an answer. First, there are things to avoid. People whose lives are rooted and growing donÕt follow the advice of the wicked, they donÕt take the paths sinners take, and they donÕt associate with cynics and scoffers (vv. 1-3). These are habits and practices and relationships that take us away from good soil and good water.
For the psalmist, the path to a happy life, nurtured and blessed by God, requires only the observation of one discipline: Those whose lives are flourishing, whose lives are truly happy, are the ones who take Òdelight in the law of the Lord.Ó
Translating the Hebrew word torah as law is sometimes misleading, even though it is by far the most common rendering of the word. The problem comes, however, when we use our American connotation of what ÒlawÓ means to interpret what torah means -- they are not the same. Law in our culture consists of statutes, ordinances, prohibitions, and directives. And there is certainly some of that in the Hebrew torah. However, if we limit our understanding of torah only to enforceable doÕs and donÕts we miss the significance of what the psalmist is trying to tell us. Life does not flourish simply because the rules are kept.
The idea of torah, while including doÕs and donÕts, is really about learning GodÕs way of doing things. Law is meant for instruction rather than enforcement. No one has ever forced anyone to live a meaningful and happy life. These are things we learn.
Understanding the word law this way helps to highlight the contrast the psalmist has set up between the ÒadviceÓ of the wicked and the ÒpathÓ of sinners as opposed to GodÕs Òteaching,Ó GodÕs way. It also helps to complete the image of the tree. The water and the soil that enriches life and makes it whole is not blind obedience to a set of rules. It is when we are nurtured on GodÕs truth, and we learn GodÕs way that true happiness and wholeness become the fruit of our faithfulness.
