Welcoming stress
Commentary
Object:
In this week’s gospel passage Jesus says, “What stress I am under!” How often do we make this claim, but mean something very different than feeling impelled to live out God’s call? The many metaphors in our readings invite us to reflect on what it means to live faithfully in times of trouble and to embrace Godly stress of the sort Jesus describes.
Isaiah 5:1-7
As a grapevine grows in twists and turns, so this poem (often called “The Song of the Vineyard”) unfolds through several changes in direction. Biblical commentators describe this short song as unique in all scripture. In verses 1 and 2, the poem purports to be a love song, sung not the by the lover but by one who loves the lover -- a bit of a tangle already! In the love poetry of the Song of Songs, “vineyard” is a common metaphor used in descriptions of human love. Here, the lover cared tenderly for the vineyard, but his love was unrequited. In verses 3-4, the speaker changes, taking the voice of the lover instead of the third-party observer. The rhetorical questions posed to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and Judah invite self-condemnation, in the same manner that the parable Nathan the prophet told King David invited David to condemn himself for his adultery with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah (2 Samuel 12:1-12). As we move into verse 7, it becomes clear that the vineyard is not a single human beloved, as in the Song of Songs, but the people of God -- another common metaphor in Israelite poetry. The wild grapes that the vineyard produces are violence and social injustice that the beloved, now revealed as the Lord of hosts, seeks to uproot. The twists and turns of this poem continue in the Hebrew of the final phrase: the Lord expected justice (mishpat), but saw bloodshed (mispach); righteousness (tsedaqah), but heard a cry (tse’aqah). This wordplay emphasizes how things that were meant to grow a particular way turned sour. It is not simply that the vines did not yield; they did, but the grapes were wrong. So too the expectations of the Lord yielded a harvest that was close to what was desired, but just a couple of letters were off and these errors ruined everything. Though this is an image far from biblical times, this poetic complaint could be compared to modern understandings of genetics, where the change of a letter or two in a complex genetic code can produce devastating outcomes. Health can be so incredibly close and far at the same moment. Grapes or wild grapes; the change of one gene -- vast consequences can ensue from such small differences. The implicit invitation is there in the growth of the vine: turn back!
Hebrews 11:29--12:2
In this summer season, it may be helpful to remind hearers of the opening verses of this chapter, read last Sunday: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval” (Hebrews 11:1-2). The chapter then proceeds to outline the faith of our ancestors, beginning with Abel, Enoch, and Noah, continuing with Abraham and his children, then Moses, then the long list of other Israelites (most unnamed) in verses 29-38 of this week’s reading. While the litany of trials may daunt modern listeners, it is worth recalling that this letter was likely written to a community that had endured persecution and whose faith was faltering as a result. Where were the rewards for believing, they may have wondered. The rewards, the writer tells them, may never appear in their lifetimes -- they did not for their ancestors in the faith -- but this is no reason to despair. This cloud of witnesses surrounds the believing community -- and even more, Jesus, the ultimate expression of faith in the face of trial and suffering, sets the example for them. Jesus received his reward not in this life but in the next, and in him, the faithful endurance of all the people of God received its culmination and perfection -- perfection in the sense of full maturity and completeness, as the acorn is perfected in the majestic oak. The hearers of this letter are to lay aside all distractions and set their sights on Jesus, running towards him, cheered on by those who have gone before and who also await their own perfection/completion when the race is completed by all who will run it. Jesus, as pioneer and perfecter of our faith, has already begun and finished the race -- he is both its beginning and its end.
Luke 12:49-56
Jesus knew his scriptures and the prophetic tradition of his people. In this week’s reading, he casts himself in the role and voice of the prophets, predicting judgment against a faithless generation. It is worth spending a moment with his claim in verse 50: “what stress I am under” as a contrast to the way many of us so often talk about stress. In modern American life, stress can have many sources -- illness, trauma, and deprivation for some -- but it is often an abundance of competing demands and distractions that are a source of stress for the more secure among us. For Jesus, “stress” may also be translated “constraint” -- a singular focus on God that impels him to speak and to act. The prophet Jeremiah describes this more vividly: “If I say, ‘I will not mention [the Lord] or speak any more in his name,’ then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jeremiah 20:9). The urgency of his message burns within Jesus, and he eagerly awaits its outward manifestation.
As he moves into his description of family division, Jesus quotes directly from the prophet Micah, a prophet who predicted the fall of Jerusalem due to the waywardness of the city’s people. Remember that soon after Jesus’ life and death Jerusalem did fall, and this catastrophe deeply informed the writers of the gospels. In describing the waywardness of the people, Micah claims “for the son treats the father with contempt, the daughter rises up against her mother, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; your enemies are the members of your own household” (Micah 7:6). What is different about Jesus’ statement is his claim that he himself is the cause of division. Some will hear his message, but others will not, and this hearing/not hearing will be the source of division rather than the innate corruption of the city. It is worth hearing Micah’s claim immediately after this description of family strife: “But as for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me. Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me” (Micah 7:7-8). Those who heard Jesus’ prophecy of household division also may well have known these next verses, and in them lies an implicit invitation to trust in God, knowing that whatever conflict may come will be temporary. There will be difficulties and distress, but in the end God will bring things right.
Application
To pick up on the last verse of the gospel reading, how do we interpret the present time? Heading into election season, our nation is profoundly divided politically. The largest mass shooting in American history has launched our summer; the world has more refugees than any time in human history, including World War II; and who knows what further tragedies will occur between my writing and your reading this column? It’s enough to make anyone lose heart. The recipients of the letter to the Hebrews certainly faced despair. Following Jesus was supposed to make everything all right. Instead, more and more seemed to be going wrong. How were they to interpret these signs?
I have been watching vines this week. At the edge of our backyard, our neighbor has removed a rickety old fence that had a grapevine twining along most of its length. The vine has been torn up as the fence has been torn down; no grapes for us this summer, though I presume the vine will grow back over time. In years past, we’ve sometimes harvested enough to make grape jelly. Meanwhile, the peas and beans in the garden are twining their way upwards towards the sun, climbing on the scaffolding I’ve made, reaching ever higher for the line to grab onto and wrap themselves around. Vines, be they grapes or peas, need help if they are to be fruitful. They need something on which to grow. If we humans are like vines (as Isaiah’s song implies), what are our supports?
I can name a few supports: scripture, prayer, the community of believers, paying attention to and sharing good news wherever we find it in this world. I have long told parishioners who despair of the “news” they see, hear, and read: it’s called “news” for a reason. It’s new, it’s novel, it’s unusual. “The news” will not tell you the ordinary, how most people got up this morning and cared for their families, went to work and did something that helped someone else, then came home, had dinner, and slept. It’s news when this does not happen, not when it does. Yes, the world is full of tragedies and woe, and we as followers of Christ are called to notice and respond to the world’s sorrows. But we are not called into despair; we are called into a faith that is deeper and stronger than the present moment. The judgment of God is about putting the world to right. This is the stress that Jesus experienced and this should be the stress that we welcome: the singular focus on what needs to be done. For one, it may be activism around a particular issue, for another it may be care for the broken, for another it may be a life of prayer or artistic expression. This focus on God’s work in the midst of whatever is going wrong in the world is what will help us stay the course and finish the race, returning to that closing image in our reading from Hebrews. We are gifted with an abundance of metaphors today: the vineyard with its wild grapes; the race of faithful life to be run, cheered on by that cloud of witnesses; the fire of judgment; interpreting the weather as we ponder the signs of the times. Which one will most speak to the community you serve? Which one most speaks to you?
Isaiah 5:1-7
As a grapevine grows in twists and turns, so this poem (often called “The Song of the Vineyard”) unfolds through several changes in direction. Biblical commentators describe this short song as unique in all scripture. In verses 1 and 2, the poem purports to be a love song, sung not the by the lover but by one who loves the lover -- a bit of a tangle already! In the love poetry of the Song of Songs, “vineyard” is a common metaphor used in descriptions of human love. Here, the lover cared tenderly for the vineyard, but his love was unrequited. In verses 3-4, the speaker changes, taking the voice of the lover instead of the third-party observer. The rhetorical questions posed to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and Judah invite self-condemnation, in the same manner that the parable Nathan the prophet told King David invited David to condemn himself for his adultery with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah (2 Samuel 12:1-12). As we move into verse 7, it becomes clear that the vineyard is not a single human beloved, as in the Song of Songs, but the people of God -- another common metaphor in Israelite poetry. The wild grapes that the vineyard produces are violence and social injustice that the beloved, now revealed as the Lord of hosts, seeks to uproot. The twists and turns of this poem continue in the Hebrew of the final phrase: the Lord expected justice (mishpat), but saw bloodshed (mispach); righteousness (tsedaqah), but heard a cry (tse’aqah). This wordplay emphasizes how things that were meant to grow a particular way turned sour. It is not simply that the vines did not yield; they did, but the grapes were wrong. So too the expectations of the Lord yielded a harvest that was close to what was desired, but just a couple of letters were off and these errors ruined everything. Though this is an image far from biblical times, this poetic complaint could be compared to modern understandings of genetics, where the change of a letter or two in a complex genetic code can produce devastating outcomes. Health can be so incredibly close and far at the same moment. Grapes or wild grapes; the change of one gene -- vast consequences can ensue from such small differences. The implicit invitation is there in the growth of the vine: turn back!
Hebrews 11:29--12:2
In this summer season, it may be helpful to remind hearers of the opening verses of this chapter, read last Sunday: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval” (Hebrews 11:1-2). The chapter then proceeds to outline the faith of our ancestors, beginning with Abel, Enoch, and Noah, continuing with Abraham and his children, then Moses, then the long list of other Israelites (most unnamed) in verses 29-38 of this week’s reading. While the litany of trials may daunt modern listeners, it is worth recalling that this letter was likely written to a community that had endured persecution and whose faith was faltering as a result. Where were the rewards for believing, they may have wondered. The rewards, the writer tells them, may never appear in their lifetimes -- they did not for their ancestors in the faith -- but this is no reason to despair. This cloud of witnesses surrounds the believing community -- and even more, Jesus, the ultimate expression of faith in the face of trial and suffering, sets the example for them. Jesus received his reward not in this life but in the next, and in him, the faithful endurance of all the people of God received its culmination and perfection -- perfection in the sense of full maturity and completeness, as the acorn is perfected in the majestic oak. The hearers of this letter are to lay aside all distractions and set their sights on Jesus, running towards him, cheered on by those who have gone before and who also await their own perfection/completion when the race is completed by all who will run it. Jesus, as pioneer and perfecter of our faith, has already begun and finished the race -- he is both its beginning and its end.
Luke 12:49-56
Jesus knew his scriptures and the prophetic tradition of his people. In this week’s reading, he casts himself in the role and voice of the prophets, predicting judgment against a faithless generation. It is worth spending a moment with his claim in verse 50: “what stress I am under” as a contrast to the way many of us so often talk about stress. In modern American life, stress can have many sources -- illness, trauma, and deprivation for some -- but it is often an abundance of competing demands and distractions that are a source of stress for the more secure among us. For Jesus, “stress” may also be translated “constraint” -- a singular focus on God that impels him to speak and to act. The prophet Jeremiah describes this more vividly: “If I say, ‘I will not mention [the Lord] or speak any more in his name,’ then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jeremiah 20:9). The urgency of his message burns within Jesus, and he eagerly awaits its outward manifestation.
As he moves into his description of family division, Jesus quotes directly from the prophet Micah, a prophet who predicted the fall of Jerusalem due to the waywardness of the city’s people. Remember that soon after Jesus’ life and death Jerusalem did fall, and this catastrophe deeply informed the writers of the gospels. In describing the waywardness of the people, Micah claims “for the son treats the father with contempt, the daughter rises up against her mother, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; your enemies are the members of your own household” (Micah 7:6). What is different about Jesus’ statement is his claim that he himself is the cause of division. Some will hear his message, but others will not, and this hearing/not hearing will be the source of division rather than the innate corruption of the city. It is worth hearing Micah’s claim immediately after this description of family strife: “But as for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me. Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me” (Micah 7:7-8). Those who heard Jesus’ prophecy of household division also may well have known these next verses, and in them lies an implicit invitation to trust in God, knowing that whatever conflict may come will be temporary. There will be difficulties and distress, but in the end God will bring things right.
Application
To pick up on the last verse of the gospel reading, how do we interpret the present time? Heading into election season, our nation is profoundly divided politically. The largest mass shooting in American history has launched our summer; the world has more refugees than any time in human history, including World War II; and who knows what further tragedies will occur between my writing and your reading this column? It’s enough to make anyone lose heart. The recipients of the letter to the Hebrews certainly faced despair. Following Jesus was supposed to make everything all right. Instead, more and more seemed to be going wrong. How were they to interpret these signs?
I have been watching vines this week. At the edge of our backyard, our neighbor has removed a rickety old fence that had a grapevine twining along most of its length. The vine has been torn up as the fence has been torn down; no grapes for us this summer, though I presume the vine will grow back over time. In years past, we’ve sometimes harvested enough to make grape jelly. Meanwhile, the peas and beans in the garden are twining their way upwards towards the sun, climbing on the scaffolding I’ve made, reaching ever higher for the line to grab onto and wrap themselves around. Vines, be they grapes or peas, need help if they are to be fruitful. They need something on which to grow. If we humans are like vines (as Isaiah’s song implies), what are our supports?
I can name a few supports: scripture, prayer, the community of believers, paying attention to and sharing good news wherever we find it in this world. I have long told parishioners who despair of the “news” they see, hear, and read: it’s called “news” for a reason. It’s new, it’s novel, it’s unusual. “The news” will not tell you the ordinary, how most people got up this morning and cared for their families, went to work and did something that helped someone else, then came home, had dinner, and slept. It’s news when this does not happen, not when it does. Yes, the world is full of tragedies and woe, and we as followers of Christ are called to notice and respond to the world’s sorrows. But we are not called into despair; we are called into a faith that is deeper and stronger than the present moment. The judgment of God is about putting the world to right. This is the stress that Jesus experienced and this should be the stress that we welcome: the singular focus on what needs to be done. For one, it may be activism around a particular issue, for another it may be care for the broken, for another it may be a life of prayer or artistic expression. This focus on God’s work in the midst of whatever is going wrong in the world is what will help us stay the course and finish the race, returning to that closing image in our reading from Hebrews. We are gifted with an abundance of metaphors today: the vineyard with its wild grapes; the race of faithful life to be run, cheered on by that cloud of witnesses; the fire of judgment; interpreting the weather as we ponder the signs of the times. Which one will most speak to the community you serve? Which one most speaks to you?
