Finding God In A Seller's Market
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
For Sundays In Advent, Christmas, And Epiphany
An elementary principle in the business world is the law of supply and demand. When supplies outrace the demand for a product, prices are low. We call that a "buyer's market." On the other hand, when there are more buyers demanding a product than there are supplies of the product, prices are high. We call that situation a "seller's market."
When we look at the early church, such as those who heard and read the words in the epistle to the Hebrews, we must remember that it was a seller's market for religions of all kinds. The Romans and Greeks were connoisseurs of religion. Cults were everywhere. Even Gentile converts to Christianity had had more than a passing acquaintance with Judaism.1 Eastern philosophers offered exotic rituals and promises of individual salvation. Religious affiliation among the masses took precedence over virtually all other human ties and obligations.
There were more people looking to "buy" into a religion than there were religions being offered. Most of the converts to the Christian church were well acquainted with the traditional "roles" of religious leaders. From the staid, legalistic Christians in Jerusalem to the raucous congregation of Christians in Corinth, variety was the order of the day and time.
In a very direct way, conditions were not greatly removed from conditions today. In a seller's market it is always difficult to form genuine communities of faith among listeners who have gathered at the church only as consumers. How does one shape a community toward a common understanding? How can a leader be viewed as one who exercises human authority or guidance while at the same time proclaiming the central confession of the church that Jesus is the Savior of the world?
The writer of Hebrews, like the person preaching to you at present, knows full well that you are in a world that values religious leaders. Oh, this is called the post-modern and post-Christian era, to be certain. Yet from self-help to inspirational focus to spirituality to new age music, it's still a seller's market. People are vitally interested in themselves and making a connection with a higher power.
In such a market, the epistle to the Hebrews speaks to us. When the demand is great, religious sellers have to compare their God to other Gods. Otherwise one is not superior to the others. The question for the Hebrews is the same for us: "If Jesus is the high priest of our soul, what kind of high priest is he?"
What makes this Jesus such a great high priest that he can carry our deepest sorrows and most embarrassing sins to the very throne of God? Why not try yoga? All of us, ancient Christians and modern, affirm that Jesus died on the cross. His temptations and sufferings were real. The sacrificial death seems rather primitive and barbaric to modern ears. We are quite far removed from the religious sacrificial system of first century Jews. When we read of the "loud cries and tears" offered by Jesus to the one who is able to save him from death, we certainly see the humanity of Jesus affirmed. There are, indeed, parallels between Jesus and other high priests. Both are placed in charge of things pertaining to God on behalf of other humans. Both suffer and can sympathize with us. Neither Jesus nor contemporary religious priests presumed to that office of priesthood. It was bestowed upon them by God.
But there is one significant difference between Jesus and every other high priest. A human high priest is every bit as sinful as his or her flock. Jesus is different. I agree with Fred R. Anderson: "Jesus experienced what you and I experience, save one thing -- separation from his father. In that regard he was flawless -- without sin."2 Jesus knew suffering but he did not know separation. He came to remove the distance we had put between ourselves and God. He still comes to do just that for us humans in every generation.
The concept of Jesus as the only perfect high priest should be quite liberating. It should free ordained ministers from perfectionist expectations and it should free the church to carry out its mission in a seller's market.
Jesus is, indeed, the only religious priest who approaches the throne of God without having to carry his own sins in his hand. Consequently, no ordained minister should operate with a sense of failure whatever the circumstances. Like the priests of ancient Israel, you and I are as sinful and separated as the rest of the flock. We all feel guilty about our human impulses and actions at times. We all need forgiveness. We all march to some fairly lofty expectations but the truth is that the greatest of all the great human high priests are in need of heaven's mercy and heaven's grace. Sunday morning and Monday morning are two different worlds for even the best of us. Even the priest holds dual citizenship in two kingdoms -- churchly and secular. Christians, professional and lay alike, live with a wide separation between Sunday visions and Monday realities. At the very least, a realization that even the holiest human is different from Jesus should help us realize that in Halford Luccock's words, "God helps those who cannot help themselves!"3
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin is the author of a book called Jewish Humor.4 He tells a rather significant story. A man gives some fine material to a tailor and asks that the tailor make him a pair of pants. Finally, after six weeks, the tailor notifies the man that his pants are ready. The man tries them on, and to his delight, they fit perfectly. When it comes time to pay for the pants, he tells the tailor, "It took God just six days to fashion the world. But it took you six weeks to make just a single pair of pants." "Yes," says the tailor, "but look at the perfection in the pants, and just look at the world!"5
Indeed, the evening news reminds us that people do not fit nicely into our world. Ours is a horribly imperfect world. It needs a high priest unlike any human priest. So messed up is our world that novelist Stephen White in Harm's Way places an intriguing monologue on the lips of a character named Peter. This thoughtful personality contends that if there is a single God ruling the world that God must be an adolescent. "It's got to be a kid-God who's trying to take care of this planet." Indeed, there appear to be just too many screw-ups for this to be a mature adult God with four hundred million years of experience. Peter muses, "What kind of God could lose the dinosaurs except a God who was not paying much attention to what was going on?" In conclusion, Peter decides that our planet is really being run on the side by some kid-God who is more interested in starting a rock and roll band.6
Aside from the humor in this illustration, it points to a profound subject. Only one who has never been separated from God can bring together people whose separation has become their greatest flaw.
At the same time, this realization should give the church the courage to recapture its ancient vision. The church itself was created to be a priestly people laboring in partnership with an adult God. We misread this scripture if we do not realize its corporate audience. The epistle to the Hebrews is a letter to a church. We were never intended to view clergy as self-employed entrepreneurs for God and lay people as consumers looking for the best product at the cheapest price. Nor was Christianity intended to be a mere collection of needy individuals. It was intended to bind us together and challenge us in ways we would never expect.
The stories we tell and the way they bind us together in courage and deed can profoundly affect human lives. Church should be a place that constructs meaning and builds community. In the aftermath of the horrible massacres that occurred in Rwanda in the early 1990s, one of the many refugee camps of Rwandans in Tanzania called in a female psychologist. The women of that camp were not sleeping. These women had witnessed the murder of friends and family. The women had been told not to speak of these atrocities in the camp. Consequently, they were haunted by the memories of the carnage and could not sleep.7
In response to the situation the psychologist set up a story tree: a safe place where the women could speak of their experiences. She went out every morning to the edge of the camp and waited patiently under a huge shade tree. No one came to see her the first day. One woman appeared on the second day, conveyed her story, and left. Within the span of several days, scores of women were gathering under the tree to share their stories and listen to others. Following weeks of listening and talking the women in the camp began sleeping at night.
After all, it is a seller's market.
____________
1. A. Daniel Frankforter, Stones for Bread: A Critique of Contemporary Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), p. 92.
2. Fred R. Anderson, "What Did He Do?" preached October 19, 1997, in The Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York, New York. Printed in The Madison Avenue Pulpit, Sermon Archives.
3. Halford Luccock, as quoted by Wayne Brouwer in Humming Till The Music Returns (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1999), p. 43.
4. Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Humor: What the Best Jewish Jokes Say About the Jews (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1992).
5. Dayle Casey, Chaplain of the Chapel of Our Savior, Colorado Springs, Colorado, uses this story in his sermon, "Fishers and Failed Poets," Preaching Through the Year of Luke, ed. by Roger Alling and David J. Schlafer (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Morehouse Publishing, 2000), pp. 15-16.
6. Stephen White, Harm's Way (New York: Penguin Books, 1997), p. 22.
7. The account is reported in Herbert Anderson and Edward Foley, Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 2001), p. 3.
When we look at the early church, such as those who heard and read the words in the epistle to the Hebrews, we must remember that it was a seller's market for religions of all kinds. The Romans and Greeks were connoisseurs of religion. Cults were everywhere. Even Gentile converts to Christianity had had more than a passing acquaintance with Judaism.1 Eastern philosophers offered exotic rituals and promises of individual salvation. Religious affiliation among the masses took precedence over virtually all other human ties and obligations.
There were more people looking to "buy" into a religion than there were religions being offered. Most of the converts to the Christian church were well acquainted with the traditional "roles" of religious leaders. From the staid, legalistic Christians in Jerusalem to the raucous congregation of Christians in Corinth, variety was the order of the day and time.
In a very direct way, conditions were not greatly removed from conditions today. In a seller's market it is always difficult to form genuine communities of faith among listeners who have gathered at the church only as consumers. How does one shape a community toward a common understanding? How can a leader be viewed as one who exercises human authority or guidance while at the same time proclaiming the central confession of the church that Jesus is the Savior of the world?
The writer of Hebrews, like the person preaching to you at present, knows full well that you are in a world that values religious leaders. Oh, this is called the post-modern and post-Christian era, to be certain. Yet from self-help to inspirational focus to spirituality to new age music, it's still a seller's market. People are vitally interested in themselves and making a connection with a higher power.
In such a market, the epistle to the Hebrews speaks to us. When the demand is great, religious sellers have to compare their God to other Gods. Otherwise one is not superior to the others. The question for the Hebrews is the same for us: "If Jesus is the high priest of our soul, what kind of high priest is he?"
What makes this Jesus such a great high priest that he can carry our deepest sorrows and most embarrassing sins to the very throne of God? Why not try yoga? All of us, ancient Christians and modern, affirm that Jesus died on the cross. His temptations and sufferings were real. The sacrificial death seems rather primitive and barbaric to modern ears. We are quite far removed from the religious sacrificial system of first century Jews. When we read of the "loud cries and tears" offered by Jesus to the one who is able to save him from death, we certainly see the humanity of Jesus affirmed. There are, indeed, parallels between Jesus and other high priests. Both are placed in charge of things pertaining to God on behalf of other humans. Both suffer and can sympathize with us. Neither Jesus nor contemporary religious priests presumed to that office of priesthood. It was bestowed upon them by God.
But there is one significant difference between Jesus and every other high priest. A human high priest is every bit as sinful as his or her flock. Jesus is different. I agree with Fred R. Anderson: "Jesus experienced what you and I experience, save one thing -- separation from his father. In that regard he was flawless -- without sin."2 Jesus knew suffering but he did not know separation. He came to remove the distance we had put between ourselves and God. He still comes to do just that for us humans in every generation.
The concept of Jesus as the only perfect high priest should be quite liberating. It should free ordained ministers from perfectionist expectations and it should free the church to carry out its mission in a seller's market.
Jesus is, indeed, the only religious priest who approaches the throne of God without having to carry his own sins in his hand. Consequently, no ordained minister should operate with a sense of failure whatever the circumstances. Like the priests of ancient Israel, you and I are as sinful and separated as the rest of the flock. We all feel guilty about our human impulses and actions at times. We all need forgiveness. We all march to some fairly lofty expectations but the truth is that the greatest of all the great human high priests are in need of heaven's mercy and heaven's grace. Sunday morning and Monday morning are two different worlds for even the best of us. Even the priest holds dual citizenship in two kingdoms -- churchly and secular. Christians, professional and lay alike, live with a wide separation between Sunday visions and Monday realities. At the very least, a realization that even the holiest human is different from Jesus should help us realize that in Halford Luccock's words, "God helps those who cannot help themselves!"3
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin is the author of a book called Jewish Humor.4 He tells a rather significant story. A man gives some fine material to a tailor and asks that the tailor make him a pair of pants. Finally, after six weeks, the tailor notifies the man that his pants are ready. The man tries them on, and to his delight, they fit perfectly. When it comes time to pay for the pants, he tells the tailor, "It took God just six days to fashion the world. But it took you six weeks to make just a single pair of pants." "Yes," says the tailor, "but look at the perfection in the pants, and just look at the world!"5
Indeed, the evening news reminds us that people do not fit nicely into our world. Ours is a horribly imperfect world. It needs a high priest unlike any human priest. So messed up is our world that novelist Stephen White in Harm's Way places an intriguing monologue on the lips of a character named Peter. This thoughtful personality contends that if there is a single God ruling the world that God must be an adolescent. "It's got to be a kid-God who's trying to take care of this planet." Indeed, there appear to be just too many screw-ups for this to be a mature adult God with four hundred million years of experience. Peter muses, "What kind of God could lose the dinosaurs except a God who was not paying much attention to what was going on?" In conclusion, Peter decides that our planet is really being run on the side by some kid-God who is more interested in starting a rock and roll band.6
Aside from the humor in this illustration, it points to a profound subject. Only one who has never been separated from God can bring together people whose separation has become their greatest flaw.
At the same time, this realization should give the church the courage to recapture its ancient vision. The church itself was created to be a priestly people laboring in partnership with an adult God. We misread this scripture if we do not realize its corporate audience. The epistle to the Hebrews is a letter to a church. We were never intended to view clergy as self-employed entrepreneurs for God and lay people as consumers looking for the best product at the cheapest price. Nor was Christianity intended to be a mere collection of needy individuals. It was intended to bind us together and challenge us in ways we would never expect.
The stories we tell and the way they bind us together in courage and deed can profoundly affect human lives. Church should be a place that constructs meaning and builds community. In the aftermath of the horrible massacres that occurred in Rwanda in the early 1990s, one of the many refugee camps of Rwandans in Tanzania called in a female psychologist. The women of that camp were not sleeping. These women had witnessed the murder of friends and family. The women had been told not to speak of these atrocities in the camp. Consequently, they were haunted by the memories of the carnage and could not sleep.7
In response to the situation the psychologist set up a story tree: a safe place where the women could speak of their experiences. She went out every morning to the edge of the camp and waited patiently under a huge shade tree. No one came to see her the first day. One woman appeared on the second day, conveyed her story, and left. Within the span of several days, scores of women were gathering under the tree to share their stories and listen to others. Following weeks of listening and talking the women in the camp began sleeping at night.
After all, it is a seller's market.
____________
1. A. Daniel Frankforter, Stones for Bread: A Critique of Contemporary Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), p. 92.
2. Fred R. Anderson, "What Did He Do?" preached October 19, 1997, in The Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York, New York. Printed in The Madison Avenue Pulpit, Sermon Archives.
3. Halford Luccock, as quoted by Wayne Brouwer in Humming Till The Music Returns (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1999), p. 43.
4. Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Humor: What the Best Jewish Jokes Say About the Jews (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1992).
5. Dayle Casey, Chaplain of the Chapel of Our Savior, Colorado Springs, Colorado, uses this story in his sermon, "Fishers and Failed Poets," Preaching Through the Year of Luke, ed. by Roger Alling and David J. Schlafer (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Morehouse Publishing, 2000), pp. 15-16.
6. Stephen White, Harm's Way (New York: Penguin Books, 1997), p. 22.
7. The account is reported in Herbert Anderson and Edward Foley, Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 2001), p. 3.
