Who do you work for?
Commentary
Object:
The following story begins the first chapter of Jeffrey K. Salkin's book, Being God's Partner (Jewish Lights Publishing, 1994).
While walking in a neighboring village late at night, a Hasidic rebbe met a man who was also walking alone. For a while, the two walked in silence. Finally, the rebbe turned to the man and asked, "So, who do you work for?"
"I work for the village," the man answered. "I'm the night watchman."
They walked in silence again. Finally, the night watchman asked the rebbe, "And who do you work for?"
The rebbe answered, "I'm not always sure. But this I will tell you. Name your present salary and I will double it. All you have to do is walk with me and ask me, from time to time, 'Who do you work for?' "
On this Ash Wednesday it is perhaps good for us to pause and ask the question, "Who do we work for?" This time of penitence reminds us that we have competing and oftentimes contradictory loyalties. The demands of the workplace, the marketplace, the school, the community, the home pull us away from our commitments to God. The voices of others hold our attention more firmly than the voice of God. We know that this should not be so, but we feel powerless to live any other way.
Ash Wednesday calls us to acknowledge our failure to remember the one for whom we truly work. It calls us to imagine a different way of being -- a life organized differently. It offers us the assurance of forgiveness and the hopefulness of a deeper commitment. Ash Wednesday invites us to engage in a journey of reflection -- a journey that ends at an empty tomb where we exchange our shawls of mourning for towels of service.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
The prophet, Joel, says to the people, "I have good news and I have bad news." The people respond, "Oh yeah? What's the good news?" "The day of the Lord is coming," Joel replies. "Great," say the people. "So what's the bad news?" "The day of the Lord is coming," answers Joel.
As alluded to in the first lesson text, Joel engages in metaphorical language to describe a devastating invasion of locust (1:4) followed by a severe drought (1:17, 20), which in turn produces conditions favorable for wildfires (1:19). All of this Joel understands to be a visitation from God -- the day of the Lord.
When the people of Israel thought about the day of the Lord, a smile would stretch across their faces. The day of the Lord bespoke that much-anticipated moment when God would intervene in history to restore the fortunes of his people. But for prophets like Joel, the day of the Lord meant judgment -- not for the enemies of God's people, but for God's people themselves. What they thought would be good news was, in fact, bad news. It was bad news because the vertical and horizontal axes of their lives were tumbling out of control and either they did not know it or did not care.
Still, as bad as things were (and they were bad) the flame of hope had not been extinguished. The rains could fall again. The rivers could flow again. The trees and the crops could leaf again. The flocks and the herd could bellow with satisfaction again. But more important than all of that -- the hearts of the people could yearn for the divine again. All that is required is a turning, or more correctly a returning, to God -- a returning marked by seriousness, contrition, confession, and commitment.
The day of the Lord is coming. What sort of day will that be for you?
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10
Reading the epistles of Paul one often gets the sense of sitting in a lecture hall listening to a professor as he unravels deep theological mysteries. At times fascinating, at times maddening, Professor Paul engages in passion-filled orations as he attempts to connect the theological dots for the student. In spite of his deep passion, it is always Paul the professor more than Paul the person on display. Even the introductory greetings to his letters, while no doubt genuine, come across somewhat formally. So it is a treat when the professor steps away from the lectern and speaks personally, almost one-on-one, with his listeners.
In today's text we meet Paul the person more than Paul the professor. One can almost see the glistening tear formations in the corners of his eyes. His voice lowers, his words are imploring. That of which he speaks now is not doctrine or theory or exam fodder, but pure love and compassion. "We entreat you," he says, "as representatives of Christ we beg of you, be reconciled to God." Even though Paul speaks these words with the evangelist's heart, we would do well not to over-evangelize his plea. It is not just those who are without Christ that need reconciliation. Believers also need reconciling. Our actions bespeak a heart not yet transformed by the righteousness of God. Our words reflect a mind not yet conformed to the righteousness of God. Our attitudes betray a spirit not yet reformed by the righteousness of God. Paul's plea for reconciliation is, in the first instance, a plea to the body of Christ to embrace fully the reconciling grace of God in Jesus Christ.
The heart of Paul admits no excuse or reason for delay. Now is the day for wholeness; now is the time to experience God's shalom. The excuses and non-reasons by which we have convinced ourselves that life as we now live it is adequate cannot withstand the scrutiny of God. Prayers prayed only half seriously that God would grant us a deeper commitment have been heard and now God stands ready to answer our prayers (v. 2). The time to heal our spiritually fractured lives has arrived. Paul pleads with his readers not to allow the grace of God to devolve into nothingness (v. 1).
Other attempts by Paul to avoid boasting while speaking of his experiences come across boastfully, nevertheless. In this text, however, the trials of Paul take on an almost poetic character. One senses not so much bravado as pathos in his recitation of discipleship's cost. Given what Paul has experienced, one might expect words of caution, but instead we hear words of invitation -- be reconciled to God!
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Matthew has a way of stating his case in "us" and "them" categories. In chapter 5 it was "you have heard it said" vs. "but I say unto you." In chapter 6 it takes the form of "do not be like the hypocrites." Given the tenor of Matthew's time and the issues confronting his community, such rigid contrasts might be understandable. Matthew's audience is composed primarily of Jewish Christians who are engaged in a post-70 AD debate with the Pharisee sect of Judaism. The subject of their debate is this: Now that temple Judaism lies in ruins as a result of the destruction of Jerusalem, who best represents the future of the Jewish faith, the Pharisees or the followers of Jesus? In his polemical attempt to promote the cause of the Jesus movement, Matthew paints his Pharisee opponents with a broad and unflattering brush. This is not to say that Jesus did not have his own family quarrels with the Jewish religious leaders, but clearly Matthew is using the teachings of Jesus as an apologetic. Although the "hypocrites" are not identified, there is little doubt what group Matthew has in mind.
The challenge this presents to the interpreter is how to appropriate Matthew's central message without succumbing to the "us-them" attitude in which that message is clothed. So as we come to the text, let us put aside for the moment any consideration of the other, Matthew's "hypocrites," and ask, "What does the text have to do with me?"
It seems evident that there are certain character traits a follower of Jesus is expected to possess. One of those character traits is piety. Note that Matthew did not say that there should be an absence of piety, but merely that one should be careful what one did with one's piety. In the minds of many folk the term piety conjures up ideas like pious (in its most negative sense) and supercilious. But true piety is a reverence before God -- a quiet faithfulness to one's sense of God's calling. Piety is, to borrow a phrase, practicing the presence of God. Matthew is not warning against the practice of piety, but the parading of piety. He then introduces the three expressions of piety that his Jewish audience would recognize as being foundational -- alms, prayer, and fasting.
For Matthew, a follower of Jesus demonstrates generosity -- a desire and willingness to share the bounty of one's life with those whose needs exceed their resources. Both desire and willingness are important. One may have willingness toward generosity, but no deep desire. The result is a grudging gift. Another may have a desire to be benevolent, but be unwilling to give practical expression to that desire. The result is a divided heart. Matthew encourages generosity, but a generosity that focuses on the need, not the PR.
A follower of Jesus is also one who engages in serious prayer. Some might argue that all prayer is serious, but I am not sure that Matthew would be among their number. Serious prayer focuses more on feelings than thoughts, more on genuine expression than a well-turned phrase, more on immediate concerns than formulaic repetitions, more on seeking God's presence than seeking the approval of others. For Matthew, prayer is essentially a private communication between the believer and God carried out in the intimacy of one's relationship with the divine.
A follower of Jesus is one whose fast is a joy. The reason for fasting is not primarily or even essentially deprivation. The deprivation is a means to an end and that end is a deeper fellowship with God. Therefore, the external affect of fasting is not the long face of hunger, but rather the joyful countenance of being filled.
The final paragraph of today's text concerning laying up treasures in heaven (vv. 19-21) is related to what has gone before, in spite of its frequent use apart from this context. Treasure is a metaphor for God's approval. Matthew seems to be saying, "Do what you do in order to hear the 'well done' from God, not the 'well done' from those around you." The acclaim (treasure) you seek from others is susceptible to the vagaries of human nature, but the acts of piety done for their own sake are secured within the heart of God.
Application
Why do individuals make their way to worship on Ash Wednesday? What do they hope to say by their presence? For how long are they willing to wear the mark of the ashes on their forehead? These questions tie the lectionary texts to the events of this day.
For some this is a day to stand in judgment before God (Joel's day of the Lord). Perhaps the worshiper arrived at the place of worship with different expectations in mind -- to meet God's presence in joy or to gain a private satisfaction for fulfilling a religious requirement. But having entered the worship space, the worshiper meets a different God. The God encountered this day reminds the worshiper that the vertical and horizontal dimensions of his life are out of kilter; that her spiritual life has not continued on toward maturity but had stalled out somewhere between childhood and adolescence. This awareness brings a contrite heart to the worshiper and the hope of new beginnings.
For some this is a day of deep piety, but what kind of piety? Does one receive the ashes in order to be seen by others as religiously obedient? Does one wear the ashes as a badge of pride? Is this the piety of which Matthew spoke? More important than the feelings of piety engendered within the worshiper are the actions the worshiper chooses to undertake growing out of that piety. The season of Lent that begins with this day is not so much about giving something up for its own sake, but putting something aside in order that one might focus more fully on the presence of God. Will the piety of the ashes lead us toward more generous living? Will the piety of the ashes lead us to a deeper prayer experience? Will the piety of the ashes create within us a more profound sense of God's presence whose by-product can only be joy?
For some this day is a day of reconciliation with a God long ignored. The house of cards that was one's life has now collapsed upon itself. The mask that one has worn for so many years to hide one's real self has grown too heavy to hold up, too fragile to risk exposure to the elements and now, at long last, must be put away. The spiritual emptiness that has gnawed at one's soul, an emptiness that one dared not to admit existed, has rendered one devoid of energy, of purpose, of meaning. But today -- today is different. Today is the day of salvation. Today reconciliation with God takes front and center stage. No more excuses. No more delays. On this day of penitence one's entire life will be laid bare before God in the confidence that this act of vulnerability will be met by the warm embrace of God's forgiving love.
Ash Wednesday is the day we answer the question, "Whom do you work for?" Who is your master? From whom do you derive the provisions of life? To whom is your heart committed? For whom are your life and energy and time and love poured out? If it is not God through Jesus Christ then know, today is the day of the Lord; today the emptiness of piety can be filled with the purposes of God; today is the day of reconciliation. Thanks be to God!
Alternative Applications
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17. Joel clearly recognized that the natural disaster that had befallen his country was a consequence of the direct action of God. This is in keeping with the worldview of the Hebrew Scriptures that nothing happens apart from the activity and involvement of God. A contemporary worldview does not operate along those direct causal lines, but neither is God understood as distant and aloof from the tragedies of life. This text offers an opportunity to explore how it is that God is connected to life's events. Though not causing tragedy, God is present in tragedy. Though not the source of evil, God can work through evil to bring about good. Though not the agent of pain and suffering, God experiences pain and suffering with us and through that sharing brings healing and wholeness. All of this is to demonstrate God's deep desire that we turn to God with all of our heart.
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10. For whom do we work? What is the cost to us for following Jesus Christ? Are the hardships Paul mentions applicable only for areas where Christianity is a minority faith? Or is it that our risk-free faith is the result of Christianity that has so conformed to its society that the difference between the religious and the secular is not a difference worth fighting over? What sort of life would one need to live to have one's culture respond to one the way Paul's culture responded to him? Should one of the sources of our penitence today be our disfigurement of the Christian faith to such a degree that it would no longer be recognizable to Paul?
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21. In Matthew's day acts of piety were understood to be fasting, prayer, and the giving of alms. Although these and other spiritual disciplines have gone out of favor in much of contemporary Christian practice, they are nevertheless still valuable disciplines. The question, however, is with what have we replaced them? What would be considered appropriate spiritual disciplines for the twenty-first-century Christian? Also, apart from what we may think we should do, what disciplines do we actually do? In Matthew's day these acts were acts of piety because people performed them. If today's acts of piety were defined solely by actions and not by oughts, what would those acts of piety look like?
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 51:1-17
by Schuyler Rhodes
For I know my transgressions
People pretend to be clueless. It's one of those human truth things. Whether it's the guy who cuts you off on the freeway or the church member who makes the nasty comment and smiles sweetly as the words escape the lips. In each case, people know full well what they are doing. Yet they cloak themselves in cluelessness. The ten-year-old boys caught messing around with matches and trying to start fires look up upon being caught and say, "We weren't doing anything!" The presidential candidate who is committing adultery while running on a platform of virtue knows full well the duplicitous reality of his character, even as he boldly defends his virtue and fidelity to his spouse. Perhaps some people truly believe their own press. But in all candor, most people know down deep exactly how devious or sinful their actions have been.
The trick, it would seem, is peeling the veneer of goodness away from broken and twisted spirits. The job before us all is to somehow quit play acting at goodness and to confess that we "know our transgressions."
What would it take for any one of us to drop the pretense? What circumstances would enable us to just stop and own up to the things we've done? For many, the moment of truth is the moment that we get caught. We can safely assume that the boys with the matches and the presidential candidate would have continued merrily on their way had they not been caught in flagrant lies.
Yet perhaps there is another way. Could there be a spiritual discipline that might lead us to a profound and humble self-awareness? Is there a process or a group of people that might pull us out of our lying, twisted denial and bring us to the light of honesty and integrity?
If we perceive ourselves as a people of God, the answer to this is "yes." Psalm 51 pursues this idea, noting that our sins are not so much against one another as against God. Our self-induced cluelessness hurts, really, no one but us, subjecting us to a judgment that no one wishes to face.
So the call comes to a sacred self-awareness. This is not to be confused with the narcissism that belches forth daily from our secular culture. No. This is truly a sense of self that derives from a relationship with God. That is, we know ourselves in relationship to the holy. If we begin to understand ourselves in terms of our relationship to God, then the cluelessness we practice daily becomes a little more difficult to pull off with a straight face.
Before God all things are known. So who are we kidding? Come clean. Tell the truth. Start fresh. God will hear and respond. God will, amazingly enough, forgive even our most heinous sins. So why not make a start right now? Why not surrender to God in prayer and begin by telling the truth.
While walking in a neighboring village late at night, a Hasidic rebbe met a man who was also walking alone. For a while, the two walked in silence. Finally, the rebbe turned to the man and asked, "So, who do you work for?"
"I work for the village," the man answered. "I'm the night watchman."
They walked in silence again. Finally, the night watchman asked the rebbe, "And who do you work for?"
The rebbe answered, "I'm not always sure. But this I will tell you. Name your present salary and I will double it. All you have to do is walk with me and ask me, from time to time, 'Who do you work for?' "
On this Ash Wednesday it is perhaps good for us to pause and ask the question, "Who do we work for?" This time of penitence reminds us that we have competing and oftentimes contradictory loyalties. The demands of the workplace, the marketplace, the school, the community, the home pull us away from our commitments to God. The voices of others hold our attention more firmly than the voice of God. We know that this should not be so, but we feel powerless to live any other way.
Ash Wednesday calls us to acknowledge our failure to remember the one for whom we truly work. It calls us to imagine a different way of being -- a life organized differently. It offers us the assurance of forgiveness and the hopefulness of a deeper commitment. Ash Wednesday invites us to engage in a journey of reflection -- a journey that ends at an empty tomb where we exchange our shawls of mourning for towels of service.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
The prophet, Joel, says to the people, "I have good news and I have bad news." The people respond, "Oh yeah? What's the good news?" "The day of the Lord is coming," Joel replies. "Great," say the people. "So what's the bad news?" "The day of the Lord is coming," answers Joel.
As alluded to in the first lesson text, Joel engages in metaphorical language to describe a devastating invasion of locust (1:4) followed by a severe drought (1:17, 20), which in turn produces conditions favorable for wildfires (1:19). All of this Joel understands to be a visitation from God -- the day of the Lord.
When the people of Israel thought about the day of the Lord, a smile would stretch across their faces. The day of the Lord bespoke that much-anticipated moment when God would intervene in history to restore the fortunes of his people. But for prophets like Joel, the day of the Lord meant judgment -- not for the enemies of God's people, but for God's people themselves. What they thought would be good news was, in fact, bad news. It was bad news because the vertical and horizontal axes of their lives were tumbling out of control and either they did not know it or did not care.
Still, as bad as things were (and they were bad) the flame of hope had not been extinguished. The rains could fall again. The rivers could flow again. The trees and the crops could leaf again. The flocks and the herd could bellow with satisfaction again. But more important than all of that -- the hearts of the people could yearn for the divine again. All that is required is a turning, or more correctly a returning, to God -- a returning marked by seriousness, contrition, confession, and commitment.
The day of the Lord is coming. What sort of day will that be for you?
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10
Reading the epistles of Paul one often gets the sense of sitting in a lecture hall listening to a professor as he unravels deep theological mysteries. At times fascinating, at times maddening, Professor Paul engages in passion-filled orations as he attempts to connect the theological dots for the student. In spite of his deep passion, it is always Paul the professor more than Paul the person on display. Even the introductory greetings to his letters, while no doubt genuine, come across somewhat formally. So it is a treat when the professor steps away from the lectern and speaks personally, almost one-on-one, with his listeners.
In today's text we meet Paul the person more than Paul the professor. One can almost see the glistening tear formations in the corners of his eyes. His voice lowers, his words are imploring. That of which he speaks now is not doctrine or theory or exam fodder, but pure love and compassion. "We entreat you," he says, "as representatives of Christ we beg of you, be reconciled to God." Even though Paul speaks these words with the evangelist's heart, we would do well not to over-evangelize his plea. It is not just those who are without Christ that need reconciliation. Believers also need reconciling. Our actions bespeak a heart not yet transformed by the righteousness of God. Our words reflect a mind not yet conformed to the righteousness of God. Our attitudes betray a spirit not yet reformed by the righteousness of God. Paul's plea for reconciliation is, in the first instance, a plea to the body of Christ to embrace fully the reconciling grace of God in Jesus Christ.
The heart of Paul admits no excuse or reason for delay. Now is the day for wholeness; now is the time to experience God's shalom. The excuses and non-reasons by which we have convinced ourselves that life as we now live it is adequate cannot withstand the scrutiny of God. Prayers prayed only half seriously that God would grant us a deeper commitment have been heard and now God stands ready to answer our prayers (v. 2). The time to heal our spiritually fractured lives has arrived. Paul pleads with his readers not to allow the grace of God to devolve into nothingness (v. 1).
Other attempts by Paul to avoid boasting while speaking of his experiences come across boastfully, nevertheless. In this text, however, the trials of Paul take on an almost poetic character. One senses not so much bravado as pathos in his recitation of discipleship's cost. Given what Paul has experienced, one might expect words of caution, but instead we hear words of invitation -- be reconciled to God!
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Matthew has a way of stating his case in "us" and "them" categories. In chapter 5 it was "you have heard it said" vs. "but I say unto you." In chapter 6 it takes the form of "do not be like the hypocrites." Given the tenor of Matthew's time and the issues confronting his community, such rigid contrasts might be understandable. Matthew's audience is composed primarily of Jewish Christians who are engaged in a post-70 AD debate with the Pharisee sect of Judaism. The subject of their debate is this: Now that temple Judaism lies in ruins as a result of the destruction of Jerusalem, who best represents the future of the Jewish faith, the Pharisees or the followers of Jesus? In his polemical attempt to promote the cause of the Jesus movement, Matthew paints his Pharisee opponents with a broad and unflattering brush. This is not to say that Jesus did not have his own family quarrels with the Jewish religious leaders, but clearly Matthew is using the teachings of Jesus as an apologetic. Although the "hypocrites" are not identified, there is little doubt what group Matthew has in mind.
The challenge this presents to the interpreter is how to appropriate Matthew's central message without succumbing to the "us-them" attitude in which that message is clothed. So as we come to the text, let us put aside for the moment any consideration of the other, Matthew's "hypocrites," and ask, "What does the text have to do with me?"
It seems evident that there are certain character traits a follower of Jesus is expected to possess. One of those character traits is piety. Note that Matthew did not say that there should be an absence of piety, but merely that one should be careful what one did with one's piety. In the minds of many folk the term piety conjures up ideas like pious (in its most negative sense) and supercilious. But true piety is a reverence before God -- a quiet faithfulness to one's sense of God's calling. Piety is, to borrow a phrase, practicing the presence of God. Matthew is not warning against the practice of piety, but the parading of piety. He then introduces the three expressions of piety that his Jewish audience would recognize as being foundational -- alms, prayer, and fasting.
For Matthew, a follower of Jesus demonstrates generosity -- a desire and willingness to share the bounty of one's life with those whose needs exceed their resources. Both desire and willingness are important. One may have willingness toward generosity, but no deep desire. The result is a grudging gift. Another may have a desire to be benevolent, but be unwilling to give practical expression to that desire. The result is a divided heart. Matthew encourages generosity, but a generosity that focuses on the need, not the PR.
A follower of Jesus is also one who engages in serious prayer. Some might argue that all prayer is serious, but I am not sure that Matthew would be among their number. Serious prayer focuses more on feelings than thoughts, more on genuine expression than a well-turned phrase, more on immediate concerns than formulaic repetitions, more on seeking God's presence than seeking the approval of others. For Matthew, prayer is essentially a private communication between the believer and God carried out in the intimacy of one's relationship with the divine.
A follower of Jesus is one whose fast is a joy. The reason for fasting is not primarily or even essentially deprivation. The deprivation is a means to an end and that end is a deeper fellowship with God. Therefore, the external affect of fasting is not the long face of hunger, but rather the joyful countenance of being filled.
The final paragraph of today's text concerning laying up treasures in heaven (vv. 19-21) is related to what has gone before, in spite of its frequent use apart from this context. Treasure is a metaphor for God's approval. Matthew seems to be saying, "Do what you do in order to hear the 'well done' from God, not the 'well done' from those around you." The acclaim (treasure) you seek from others is susceptible to the vagaries of human nature, but the acts of piety done for their own sake are secured within the heart of God.
Application
Why do individuals make their way to worship on Ash Wednesday? What do they hope to say by their presence? For how long are they willing to wear the mark of the ashes on their forehead? These questions tie the lectionary texts to the events of this day.
For some this is a day to stand in judgment before God (Joel's day of the Lord). Perhaps the worshiper arrived at the place of worship with different expectations in mind -- to meet God's presence in joy or to gain a private satisfaction for fulfilling a religious requirement. But having entered the worship space, the worshiper meets a different God. The God encountered this day reminds the worshiper that the vertical and horizontal dimensions of his life are out of kilter; that her spiritual life has not continued on toward maturity but had stalled out somewhere between childhood and adolescence. This awareness brings a contrite heart to the worshiper and the hope of new beginnings.
For some this is a day of deep piety, but what kind of piety? Does one receive the ashes in order to be seen by others as religiously obedient? Does one wear the ashes as a badge of pride? Is this the piety of which Matthew spoke? More important than the feelings of piety engendered within the worshiper are the actions the worshiper chooses to undertake growing out of that piety. The season of Lent that begins with this day is not so much about giving something up for its own sake, but putting something aside in order that one might focus more fully on the presence of God. Will the piety of the ashes lead us toward more generous living? Will the piety of the ashes lead us to a deeper prayer experience? Will the piety of the ashes create within us a more profound sense of God's presence whose by-product can only be joy?
For some this day is a day of reconciliation with a God long ignored. The house of cards that was one's life has now collapsed upon itself. The mask that one has worn for so many years to hide one's real self has grown too heavy to hold up, too fragile to risk exposure to the elements and now, at long last, must be put away. The spiritual emptiness that has gnawed at one's soul, an emptiness that one dared not to admit existed, has rendered one devoid of energy, of purpose, of meaning. But today -- today is different. Today is the day of salvation. Today reconciliation with God takes front and center stage. No more excuses. No more delays. On this day of penitence one's entire life will be laid bare before God in the confidence that this act of vulnerability will be met by the warm embrace of God's forgiving love.
Ash Wednesday is the day we answer the question, "Whom do you work for?" Who is your master? From whom do you derive the provisions of life? To whom is your heart committed? For whom are your life and energy and time and love poured out? If it is not God through Jesus Christ then know, today is the day of the Lord; today the emptiness of piety can be filled with the purposes of God; today is the day of reconciliation. Thanks be to God!
Alternative Applications
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17. Joel clearly recognized that the natural disaster that had befallen his country was a consequence of the direct action of God. This is in keeping with the worldview of the Hebrew Scriptures that nothing happens apart from the activity and involvement of God. A contemporary worldview does not operate along those direct causal lines, but neither is God understood as distant and aloof from the tragedies of life. This text offers an opportunity to explore how it is that God is connected to life's events. Though not causing tragedy, God is present in tragedy. Though not the source of evil, God can work through evil to bring about good. Though not the agent of pain and suffering, God experiences pain and suffering with us and through that sharing brings healing and wholeness. All of this is to demonstrate God's deep desire that we turn to God with all of our heart.
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10. For whom do we work? What is the cost to us for following Jesus Christ? Are the hardships Paul mentions applicable only for areas where Christianity is a minority faith? Or is it that our risk-free faith is the result of Christianity that has so conformed to its society that the difference between the religious and the secular is not a difference worth fighting over? What sort of life would one need to live to have one's culture respond to one the way Paul's culture responded to him? Should one of the sources of our penitence today be our disfigurement of the Christian faith to such a degree that it would no longer be recognizable to Paul?
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21. In Matthew's day acts of piety were understood to be fasting, prayer, and the giving of alms. Although these and other spiritual disciplines have gone out of favor in much of contemporary Christian practice, they are nevertheless still valuable disciplines. The question, however, is with what have we replaced them? What would be considered appropriate spiritual disciplines for the twenty-first-century Christian? Also, apart from what we may think we should do, what disciplines do we actually do? In Matthew's day these acts were acts of piety because people performed them. If today's acts of piety were defined solely by actions and not by oughts, what would those acts of piety look like?
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 51:1-17
by Schuyler Rhodes
For I know my transgressions
People pretend to be clueless. It's one of those human truth things. Whether it's the guy who cuts you off on the freeway or the church member who makes the nasty comment and smiles sweetly as the words escape the lips. In each case, people know full well what they are doing. Yet they cloak themselves in cluelessness. The ten-year-old boys caught messing around with matches and trying to start fires look up upon being caught and say, "We weren't doing anything!" The presidential candidate who is committing adultery while running on a platform of virtue knows full well the duplicitous reality of his character, even as he boldly defends his virtue and fidelity to his spouse. Perhaps some people truly believe their own press. But in all candor, most people know down deep exactly how devious or sinful their actions have been.
The trick, it would seem, is peeling the veneer of goodness away from broken and twisted spirits. The job before us all is to somehow quit play acting at goodness and to confess that we "know our transgressions."
What would it take for any one of us to drop the pretense? What circumstances would enable us to just stop and own up to the things we've done? For many, the moment of truth is the moment that we get caught. We can safely assume that the boys with the matches and the presidential candidate would have continued merrily on their way had they not been caught in flagrant lies.
Yet perhaps there is another way. Could there be a spiritual discipline that might lead us to a profound and humble self-awareness? Is there a process or a group of people that might pull us out of our lying, twisted denial and bring us to the light of honesty and integrity?
If we perceive ourselves as a people of God, the answer to this is "yes." Psalm 51 pursues this idea, noting that our sins are not so much against one another as against God. Our self-induced cluelessness hurts, really, no one but us, subjecting us to a judgment that no one wishes to face.
So the call comes to a sacred self-awareness. This is not to be confused with the narcissism that belches forth daily from our secular culture. No. This is truly a sense of self that derives from a relationship with God. That is, we know ourselves in relationship to the holy. If we begin to understand ourselves in terms of our relationship to God, then the cluelessness we practice daily becomes a little more difficult to pull off with a straight face.
Before God all things are known. So who are we kidding? Come clean. Tell the truth. Start fresh. God will hear and respond. God will, amazingly enough, forgive even our most heinous sins. So why not make a start right now? Why not surrender to God in prayer and begin by telling the truth.
