What's it worth to you?
Commentary
If you are a preacher who likes to pull all of the texts for the day into your sermon, this Sunday will stretch your creativity. In addition to the three readings, we have a Gospel text in which there are not less than five parables! It is not necessary, of course, to consider all three lessons in your sermon. Yet, having heard them read, it is helpful to your hearers if something from each of them can be reinforced in your sermon.
A common element may be this -- that there are some things in life for which it is worthwhile to sacrifice everything. Jacob lived for seven years in obedience to his father-in-law, working diligently in the full expectation that his reward would be the woman he loved so passionately -- Rachel. Instead, he got Leah. But Jacob's love for Rachel was so deep that he believed it was worth another seven years of hard work to win this precious prize.
To see this same point in today's reading from Paul's Letter to the Romans, it is necessary to pick up a thread from last week's lesson and tie it with today's word. Recall 8:18: "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us." The great prize Paul has in mind is "the freedom of the glory of the children of God" (8:21). It has a future, eschatological accent. But as we move on into today's lesson, it is clear that the gift that God gives is for this life as well. It is a prize not worth comparing with anything else in life: the help of the Spirit; assurance that things will work out for good; freedom from condemnation; the promise that nothing can conquer the love of God.
All the parables in the Matthew text are about "the kingdom of heaven." This kingdom is the new age ushered in by the coming of the Promised One of God. It is a kingdom which cannot be suppressed. It will grow like a mustard seed and expand like yeast. And -- according to the last three parables -- it is worth everything you are and have to be a part of it.
That should be at the heart of our sermon for this day. If the Christian venture is worth anything, it is worth everything. God calls for a response, not one that is halfhearted or lukewarm, but one that is full, free, and, yes, even reckless.
Grist For The Mill
Genesis 29:15-28
The story of Jacob's marriages may bring a smile to our faces. Imagine -- waking up on the first morning of your honeymoon with the wrong woman in bed with you! What irony. No one deserved it more, we say to ourselves. Jacob, a man of deception, caught at his own game.
But doesn't he deserve a better judgment than that? Yes, he had deceived and connived. And he may have deserved some recompense for it. But we can't help but note that the years had brought some changes in Jacob. Rachel may have contributed to the transformation. She is called "graceful and beautiful." The implication is more than physical. No doubt Jacob reveled in her beauty. But this was no skin-deep loveliness. Like Jacob's mother Rebekah, she was a woman of grace. And such women can have a profound effect on less graceful men.
We noted two weeks ago that simple but profound phrase about Jacob's parents; "Isaac loved Rebekah." Now we hear it again: "Jacob loved Rachel." And when he awakens to the cruel ploy of his father-in-law Laban, it is love that conquers anger: "Jacob served seven years for Rachel ... because of the love he had for her."
Tradition, of course, was on Laban's side. He must have felt fully justified in doing what he did. Even today those accustomed to certain non-Western cultures are familiar with marriage traditions that seem odd and unfair to us. Our tradition of individualism and freedom of choice is quite foreign to them. In those settings, ancient or modern, a parent would be completely exonerated for keeping up the traditions of the people. "We just don't do it that way in this place" -- you just don't allow a younger sister to marry until the older is also married.
Though he knew it was their tradition, Jacob protested vigorously. Might he have been thinking that since the law favoring the older son had been broken in his own home, the law favoring the older daughter could as well be broken in Laban's home?
Jacob could have settled for Leah, the second prize. Isn't one wife enough? If she couldn't satisfy his need for sex and power, he could always take on concubines, like others in his culture. And though she was not the one he preferred for his wife, Leah could give him the children needed to carry out the promise given to his grandfather Abraham. So why not be satisfied? Why not leave well-enough alone?
Why? Because of love.
Romans 8:26-39
Last week we reflected on the meaning of "the witness of the Spirit" -- what one theologian has called the "most delicate to grasp and ... most difficult to discuss" of all Christian doctrines. But no matter how delicate or difficult, it is real. Believers feel the presence of the spirit in their lives.
But not always. And that is the point of the opening section of today's lesson. Paul, honest about his own struggles and failure to be what he ought to be, is also honest about his prayer life. There are times, he tells us, when "we do not know how to pray as we ought." We recall those moments of ecstasy when our words flowed so freely in the prayer circle, or those sleepless nights when we found the hours filled with conversation with God. But now we are mute. The prayers won't come.
There is good news. At the other end of our prayer is the One to whom we pray. And a chief role of the Holy Spirit is to intercede for us "with sighs too deep for words." Arland Hultgren reminds us that "it is true to the witness of the New Testament to realize that a living, active, caring, and responsive God also has an agenda -- and it is more than an equal partner in the divine-human encounter." (Arland Hultgren, A Primer on Prayer, Paul Sponheim, ed.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988, p. 34.)
"More than an equal partner." That is the idea Paul has in mind. From our very narrow perspective we cannot know the full purpose of God, for us or for others. For that reason our prayers are often narrow and even self-serving. And when we finally come to the end of our rope, words fail us. How good to know that there is Someone at the other end of that rope who "intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."
Romans 8:28 is probably taken out of context more than any other verse of scripture. "God will see that everything works out well for you," we like to say. And by that we usually mean that this moment of difficulty will pass into a time of serenity, good health, and hopefulness. But that is not the context. Yes, God will work things out -- in the midst of suffering (8:18), futility (8:19), anxiety (8:22), weakness (8:26), judgment (8:33), hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, and the sword (8:35). "The dogs," as someone has said, "will follow you all the way and even leave their marks on the pearly gates."
What is the prize in all this? Again, it is love. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?"
Recently I came across an address I gave shortly after the tragic death of our eighteen-year-old son Andrew. Recalling the words of Alan Paton that the love that overcomes tragedy "is a secret," I said: "Neither Corinne nor I can tell you why or how we were able to express words of hope in those moments immediately following Andrew's death -- moments that cast us into the deepest despair we could have known. I don't know why or how I was able to say, '... we have to go on.' I only know that God was there. The rest is a secret."
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
The promise of growth, as described in the first two parables in today's Gospel Lesson, has been at the heart of earlier parables. Nothing can stop the seed from growing or the yeast from spreading. The power is in the word. Our task is to witness to it with enthusiasm.
Our attention is drawn to the second set of parables -- the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price, and the net full of fish. In the first instance Jesus does what we see in several other parables. He uses the underhanded and unethical behavior of others to drive home a point. If you discover a treasure buried in someone's field, should you not run to the owner and say, "Guess what I just found on your property? You are a far richer person than you ever dreamed!" And then we might stand by and hope for a reward for our good behavior.
But Jesus is a realist. He knows full well what many would do. They would sell everything, buy the acreage, and claim ownership to the treasure. Isn't that his point? If you believe that this unfolding kingdom of God -- this Good News that God has come into the world -- is the greatest prize anyone could ever possess, would you not do at least as much as this man who sells all and buys the land? So the point is not to be lost in what seems to be unethical behavior. Rather, it is to underscore the value of the treasure.
Or imagine the decision of the pearl merchant. We envision one with a keen eye for the gems that came from India by way of Bedouin traders. His shiny fingers have rolled hundreds of pearls. He has bought and sold pearls of all shapes and sizes. But one day his heart skips a beat. In the palm of his hand lays a pearl like none he has ever seen. He is trapped by its beauty. But now he must make a decision. He must take a chance. It means selling every other pearl for this one -- this one only.
If we link this thought with the last parable, the catch of fish, it seems that Jesus is saying what is plain at all times, namely, that some will make the wise choice and some will not. Just as one separates good fish from bad fish, so in the work of the Gospel there is a separation. Some play it safe. But others take the leap, risking all for the one great prize.
Robert Smith asks of all who hear these parables, both then and now: "Should the hearers not likewise act with boldness born of the joy of discovery as they themselves are confronted with the treasure of the kingdom of heaven? Of course they should. They should reorder their lives under God with single-minded devotion." (Robert H. Smith, Matthew: Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989, p. 179.)
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Genesis 29:15-28
This is not a text for the faint of heart. It sets out some of Jacob's sins in bold relief -- so much so that both the older pieties of the church and the more recent are likely to be offended to the relative maximum. In fact, only the grace of God who loves such a renegade is more offensive.
To begin with, the narrative makes another note of what has previously been observed: that Laban and Jacob are relatives, uncle and nephew. That may make Laban's initial offer of remuneration appear somewhat gracious. But it also underscores the prurience of Jacob's reply. Whether on a Sabbath picnic or looking over the fence from the sheep runnels, he has been watching one of his cousins and now he wants her in lieu of either cash or kind.
This much can be said: Abraham and Sarah were blood relatives and once passed themselves off as brother and sister; Isaac and Rebekah were also related and did the same. With that kind of a background and the hormonal challenge characteristic of adolescence or early adulthood, maybe Jacob just didn't know any better. But even still, the family reunion is not generally recommended for cruising. And there's no justification possible for regarding a girl as payment.
But it gets worse. Jacob will learn, and soon enough, that with Laban, appearances are matters to be further arranged. For after having worked those seven long years -- waiting, fantasizing, catching an occasional, tantalizing glimpse -- he finds himself tricked. Perhaps this might evoke some sympathy. But the fact of the matter is that for all of his love and longing for Rachel, he didn't know it was her sister Leah in his arms until the morning! Disclaimers about ancient wedding practices, dim firelight and all the rest can hardly obscure the fact that he didn't bother to either look at her face or listen to her voice, which he surely must have recognized, until well after their union had been consummated, probably with some repetition.
That may be the nadir of the text. But there's more: with no consideration for Leah (whose eyes have miraculously improved with the NRSV), Jacob stomps off to confront Laban with the deception. When Laban hides his covetousness under local marital custom, the two of them proceed to bargain once more for Rachel, agreeing that she can wait another seven years for the wedding, which will make her at bare minimum something like 27 or 28 before the date finally arrives. No doubt Leah, already a pawn in the game, got an earful and that also with some repetition.
It is a sordid business, Jacob carrying away women and livestock as he and Laban go at each other. But God is steadfast. A promise is a promise, even when -- especially when -- it is made without reserve.
A common element may be this -- that there are some things in life for which it is worthwhile to sacrifice everything. Jacob lived for seven years in obedience to his father-in-law, working diligently in the full expectation that his reward would be the woman he loved so passionately -- Rachel. Instead, he got Leah. But Jacob's love for Rachel was so deep that he believed it was worth another seven years of hard work to win this precious prize.
To see this same point in today's reading from Paul's Letter to the Romans, it is necessary to pick up a thread from last week's lesson and tie it with today's word. Recall 8:18: "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us." The great prize Paul has in mind is "the freedom of the glory of the children of God" (8:21). It has a future, eschatological accent. But as we move on into today's lesson, it is clear that the gift that God gives is for this life as well. It is a prize not worth comparing with anything else in life: the help of the Spirit; assurance that things will work out for good; freedom from condemnation; the promise that nothing can conquer the love of God.
All the parables in the Matthew text are about "the kingdom of heaven." This kingdom is the new age ushered in by the coming of the Promised One of God. It is a kingdom which cannot be suppressed. It will grow like a mustard seed and expand like yeast. And -- according to the last three parables -- it is worth everything you are and have to be a part of it.
That should be at the heart of our sermon for this day. If the Christian venture is worth anything, it is worth everything. God calls for a response, not one that is halfhearted or lukewarm, but one that is full, free, and, yes, even reckless.
Grist For The Mill
Genesis 29:15-28
The story of Jacob's marriages may bring a smile to our faces. Imagine -- waking up on the first morning of your honeymoon with the wrong woman in bed with you! What irony. No one deserved it more, we say to ourselves. Jacob, a man of deception, caught at his own game.
But doesn't he deserve a better judgment than that? Yes, he had deceived and connived. And he may have deserved some recompense for it. But we can't help but note that the years had brought some changes in Jacob. Rachel may have contributed to the transformation. She is called "graceful and beautiful." The implication is more than physical. No doubt Jacob reveled in her beauty. But this was no skin-deep loveliness. Like Jacob's mother Rebekah, she was a woman of grace. And such women can have a profound effect on less graceful men.
We noted two weeks ago that simple but profound phrase about Jacob's parents; "Isaac loved Rebekah." Now we hear it again: "Jacob loved Rachel." And when he awakens to the cruel ploy of his father-in-law Laban, it is love that conquers anger: "Jacob served seven years for Rachel ... because of the love he had for her."
Tradition, of course, was on Laban's side. He must have felt fully justified in doing what he did. Even today those accustomed to certain non-Western cultures are familiar with marriage traditions that seem odd and unfair to us. Our tradition of individualism and freedom of choice is quite foreign to them. In those settings, ancient or modern, a parent would be completely exonerated for keeping up the traditions of the people. "We just don't do it that way in this place" -- you just don't allow a younger sister to marry until the older is also married.
Though he knew it was their tradition, Jacob protested vigorously. Might he have been thinking that since the law favoring the older son had been broken in his own home, the law favoring the older daughter could as well be broken in Laban's home?
Jacob could have settled for Leah, the second prize. Isn't one wife enough? If she couldn't satisfy his need for sex and power, he could always take on concubines, like others in his culture. And though she was not the one he preferred for his wife, Leah could give him the children needed to carry out the promise given to his grandfather Abraham. So why not be satisfied? Why not leave well-enough alone?
Why? Because of love.
Romans 8:26-39
Last week we reflected on the meaning of "the witness of the Spirit" -- what one theologian has called the "most delicate to grasp and ... most difficult to discuss" of all Christian doctrines. But no matter how delicate or difficult, it is real. Believers feel the presence of the spirit in their lives.
But not always. And that is the point of the opening section of today's lesson. Paul, honest about his own struggles and failure to be what he ought to be, is also honest about his prayer life. There are times, he tells us, when "we do not know how to pray as we ought." We recall those moments of ecstasy when our words flowed so freely in the prayer circle, or those sleepless nights when we found the hours filled with conversation with God. But now we are mute. The prayers won't come.
There is good news. At the other end of our prayer is the One to whom we pray. And a chief role of the Holy Spirit is to intercede for us "with sighs too deep for words." Arland Hultgren reminds us that "it is true to the witness of the New Testament to realize that a living, active, caring, and responsive God also has an agenda -- and it is more than an equal partner in the divine-human encounter." (Arland Hultgren, A Primer on Prayer, Paul Sponheim, ed.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988, p. 34.)
"More than an equal partner." That is the idea Paul has in mind. From our very narrow perspective we cannot know the full purpose of God, for us or for others. For that reason our prayers are often narrow and even self-serving. And when we finally come to the end of our rope, words fail us. How good to know that there is Someone at the other end of that rope who "intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."
Romans 8:28 is probably taken out of context more than any other verse of scripture. "God will see that everything works out well for you," we like to say. And by that we usually mean that this moment of difficulty will pass into a time of serenity, good health, and hopefulness. But that is not the context. Yes, God will work things out -- in the midst of suffering (8:18), futility (8:19), anxiety (8:22), weakness (8:26), judgment (8:33), hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, and the sword (8:35). "The dogs," as someone has said, "will follow you all the way and even leave their marks on the pearly gates."
What is the prize in all this? Again, it is love. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?"
Recently I came across an address I gave shortly after the tragic death of our eighteen-year-old son Andrew. Recalling the words of Alan Paton that the love that overcomes tragedy "is a secret," I said: "Neither Corinne nor I can tell you why or how we were able to express words of hope in those moments immediately following Andrew's death -- moments that cast us into the deepest despair we could have known. I don't know why or how I was able to say, '... we have to go on.' I only know that God was there. The rest is a secret."
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
The promise of growth, as described in the first two parables in today's Gospel Lesson, has been at the heart of earlier parables. Nothing can stop the seed from growing or the yeast from spreading. The power is in the word. Our task is to witness to it with enthusiasm.
Our attention is drawn to the second set of parables -- the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price, and the net full of fish. In the first instance Jesus does what we see in several other parables. He uses the underhanded and unethical behavior of others to drive home a point. If you discover a treasure buried in someone's field, should you not run to the owner and say, "Guess what I just found on your property? You are a far richer person than you ever dreamed!" And then we might stand by and hope for a reward for our good behavior.
But Jesus is a realist. He knows full well what many would do. They would sell everything, buy the acreage, and claim ownership to the treasure. Isn't that his point? If you believe that this unfolding kingdom of God -- this Good News that God has come into the world -- is the greatest prize anyone could ever possess, would you not do at least as much as this man who sells all and buys the land? So the point is not to be lost in what seems to be unethical behavior. Rather, it is to underscore the value of the treasure.
Or imagine the decision of the pearl merchant. We envision one with a keen eye for the gems that came from India by way of Bedouin traders. His shiny fingers have rolled hundreds of pearls. He has bought and sold pearls of all shapes and sizes. But one day his heart skips a beat. In the palm of his hand lays a pearl like none he has ever seen. He is trapped by its beauty. But now he must make a decision. He must take a chance. It means selling every other pearl for this one -- this one only.
If we link this thought with the last parable, the catch of fish, it seems that Jesus is saying what is plain at all times, namely, that some will make the wise choice and some will not. Just as one separates good fish from bad fish, so in the work of the Gospel there is a separation. Some play it safe. But others take the leap, risking all for the one great prize.
Robert Smith asks of all who hear these parables, both then and now: "Should the hearers not likewise act with boldness born of the joy of discovery as they themselves are confronted with the treasure of the kingdom of heaven? Of course they should. They should reorder their lives under God with single-minded devotion." (Robert H. Smith, Matthew: Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989, p. 179.)
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Genesis 29:15-28
This is not a text for the faint of heart. It sets out some of Jacob's sins in bold relief -- so much so that both the older pieties of the church and the more recent are likely to be offended to the relative maximum. In fact, only the grace of God who loves such a renegade is more offensive.
To begin with, the narrative makes another note of what has previously been observed: that Laban and Jacob are relatives, uncle and nephew. That may make Laban's initial offer of remuneration appear somewhat gracious. But it also underscores the prurience of Jacob's reply. Whether on a Sabbath picnic or looking over the fence from the sheep runnels, he has been watching one of his cousins and now he wants her in lieu of either cash or kind.
This much can be said: Abraham and Sarah were blood relatives and once passed themselves off as brother and sister; Isaac and Rebekah were also related and did the same. With that kind of a background and the hormonal challenge characteristic of adolescence or early adulthood, maybe Jacob just didn't know any better. But even still, the family reunion is not generally recommended for cruising. And there's no justification possible for regarding a girl as payment.
But it gets worse. Jacob will learn, and soon enough, that with Laban, appearances are matters to be further arranged. For after having worked those seven long years -- waiting, fantasizing, catching an occasional, tantalizing glimpse -- he finds himself tricked. Perhaps this might evoke some sympathy. But the fact of the matter is that for all of his love and longing for Rachel, he didn't know it was her sister Leah in his arms until the morning! Disclaimers about ancient wedding practices, dim firelight and all the rest can hardly obscure the fact that he didn't bother to either look at her face or listen to her voice, which he surely must have recognized, until well after their union had been consummated, probably with some repetition.
That may be the nadir of the text. But there's more: with no consideration for Leah (whose eyes have miraculously improved with the NRSV), Jacob stomps off to confront Laban with the deception. When Laban hides his covetousness under local marital custom, the two of them proceed to bargain once more for Rachel, agreeing that she can wait another seven years for the wedding, which will make her at bare minimum something like 27 or 28 before the date finally arrives. No doubt Leah, already a pawn in the game, got an earful and that also with some repetition.
It is a sordid business, Jacob carrying away women and livestock as he and Laban go at each other. But God is steadfast. A promise is a promise, even when -- especially when -- it is made without reserve.
