People See Through Us
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
For Sundays In Advent, Christmas, And Epiphany
A lasting contribution to American life was made by a simple business woman who turned a small bakery on Long Island into America's best-known and largest baked goods company. In 1925, then nineteen-year-old Martha Schneider married her boss, William Entenmann. The two expanded their bread and rolls shop into a thriving home delivery business. When William died in 1951, Martha assumed management of the office and kept the company's books. At the time, quality baked goods came in white paper boxes tied up with red strings. Customers had to poke a small hole in the package to get a preview of what was inside. Martha Entenmann invented the see-through cake box. Suddenly all manner of baked goods from pies to doughnuts began to arrive in see-through boxes with a proud blue Entenmann banner stamped on them. This caused those Entenmann baked goods to fill the shelves from New York to Miami.1
As soon as the Christian church was organized as an institution, the letters and epistles of Paul and the epistle of James began to hammer home a message people did not want to hear. God in Christ is the Martha Entenmann of the church. People see through us. They really do! There is a see-through box top that covers every congregation. I wish James would just leave us alone and not call attention to what has been the ever-present problem, favoritism, within our church families. Most of us would like to reside in secure churches wrapped in white paper boxes tied up with red ribbons. Heck, the Lutherans even have red doors on all their churches. But no! James has got to remind us once again that we cannot have it the way we want it to be. The scene in the book of James makes a single point: Christians should not show favoritism. James sees through us. All three texts from today's epistolatory lection reflect this common theme.
The text opens with a memorable scene in which a rich man receives deferential treatment in finding a seat in the synagogue, whereas a poor man is politely seated on the floor or given standing room only. The author has little use for the rich who, in his opinion, oppress the poor, take them to account, and blaspheme the name of Christ. People see through us! What we have here is a direct, hard-hitting teaching about the seriousness of discrimination and neglect of the poor. If the Lukan beatitude, "Blessed are the poor; woe to the rich" (Luke 6:20), and Paul's condemnation of the Corinthians for their distinctions within the fellowship based on socioeconomic status were not enough, we now have to encounter James. The scriptures cannot leave us alone on this issue because people see through us.
You and I worship a Lord who in his inauguaral sermon said that he had come to preach good news to the poor and set the oppressed free. We are heirs of an Old Testament tradition that focused on special provisions in the Jewish law to make certain that those who were economically at the bottom of the ladder -- slaves, strangers, widows, orphans, and the poor -- would be protected as part of God's command to us. People see through us!
Daniel Maquire in his seminal work, The Moral Core of Judaism and Christianity, argues that the original Jewish and Christian teachings, like today's texts, produced real cultural and moral revolutions. These teachings pioneered subversive modes of community. They built communities on the basis of shared ideas and commitments and not on accidents of ethnic origin, financial wealth, or formal education. They bonded the nation of the sacred to morality. They marked off favoritism between male and female, Hebrew and Greek, slave and free person, and rich and poor as a prime target for sociomoral reformation. They broke with the surrounding cultures in not linking the sacred to military strength. They parted with the dominant views that the gods are with the mighty. In fact, they went in a completely opposite direction: God is most present when the needs of the poor and the weak are addressed. They pointed toward a world that had never been, but could be.2
You and I have to reclaim that revolution. People can see through us.
In the late 1990s my friend and colleague, Peter Gomes, authored a best-selling work, The Good Book. In his own unique way, Peter laid out before scholars and laity alike a comprehendible, theologically sound, and masterful treatise on the importance of the Bible as sacred scripture. His excellent work called needed attention to the usefulness of the Bible as a "centering" resource for daily living and for wrestling with dilemmas that have vexed us humans since antiquity as we have sought to apply belief in the God of our scriptures to the human condition. One day in a major bookstore I came across a man who was perusing through the books in the "Religion" section of the store. He read the dust jacket of the Gomes book and turned to me. "Isn't this refreshing?" he questioned. "The minister to Harvard University acknowledges what I have known all along: the Bible has been and always will be the Good Book."
Actually he was wrong (the man, not Peter Gomes). "The Good Book" is not a completely good book. It contains a lot of trivia, moral meanness, and human nonsense. It is not the classical work of a lone genius. It is, indeed, a classical vision of the unachieved possibilities of humankind. One must look for its central liberating personality, its central themes as it unfolds in diverse cultures, times, and communities. On this, I believe, Gomes would heartedly agree. Had the reader examined the subtitle, "Reading the Bible With Heart and Mind," and actually read the work, he, perhaps, would have grasped the point. The Bible becomes "The Good Book" only when its readers reclaim the social revolution which is its central theme. When we take into our hearts and minds its message of addressing the social discriminations and abuses of the poor that shackle our world, then it truly becomes "The Good Book" for everyone in our bifurcated, desperate, and codified world. At that point the words about God's love not only fall upon our ears but we actually hear them. At that point, the Bible's images of God's presence not only fall upon our eyes but we see them. At that point all the words of faith that have entered our brain become a part of our work for the kingdom of God. These sensory signals from the ancient text that come to us from every age and culture get through to our spiritual center where they can be translated from words and visions into the deeds of a living faith. We can begin to hear the words of Jesus not just as a voice to help us have peace when we feel lost and alone but also as a challenge to energize us to carry all other humans along with us. At that point Jesus heals us not only inwardly but outwardly as well. The Bible then becomes "The Good Book" for our whole culture. Scripture then enables us to become truly intimate with all God's children. Instead of a select therapeutic community, we can help our church become a just community. We cease looking for a narrow band of intimate encounters among like-minded and like-living social friends and embrace a wide-range of relations among strangers. We put aside favoritism for a larger vision.
This is the image of the church the world needs to see. Otherwise we present to the world nothing but a well-packaged institution that houses ancient words and images that are incapable of being translated by its members into the works and deeds of faith.
Parker J. Palmer's book, The Courage to Teach, offers insight into the human capacity to teach and learn. He contends that "connectedness with the strange and the stranger is at the heart of being educated."3 You and I are both teachers of the word of God and learners from the word of God. Since antiquity teachers and learners like us have wrestled with the question, "What does God want from us?" We know full well what we want from God. Our fervent prayers, whether in times of crisis or joy, are full of our awareness of what we want from God. But what does God want from us? Certainly the text from the book of James offers a clear response: "Connect with strangers and don't play favorites when you do."
After all, people can see through us!
____________
1. "She Saw Through Us," obituary of Martha Schneider Entenmann, The New York Times Magazine, December 29, 1996. The entire obituary may be found in Marvin Siegel, ed., The Last Word: New York Times Book of Obituaries and Farewells (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1997), pp. 326-327.
2. Daniel C. Maquire, The Moral Code of Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993), p. 48.
3. Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of A Teacher's Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1998), p. 91.
As soon as the Christian church was organized as an institution, the letters and epistles of Paul and the epistle of James began to hammer home a message people did not want to hear. God in Christ is the Martha Entenmann of the church. People see through us. They really do! There is a see-through box top that covers every congregation. I wish James would just leave us alone and not call attention to what has been the ever-present problem, favoritism, within our church families. Most of us would like to reside in secure churches wrapped in white paper boxes tied up with red ribbons. Heck, the Lutherans even have red doors on all their churches. But no! James has got to remind us once again that we cannot have it the way we want it to be. The scene in the book of James makes a single point: Christians should not show favoritism. James sees through us. All three texts from today's epistolatory lection reflect this common theme.
The text opens with a memorable scene in which a rich man receives deferential treatment in finding a seat in the synagogue, whereas a poor man is politely seated on the floor or given standing room only. The author has little use for the rich who, in his opinion, oppress the poor, take them to account, and blaspheme the name of Christ. People see through us! What we have here is a direct, hard-hitting teaching about the seriousness of discrimination and neglect of the poor. If the Lukan beatitude, "Blessed are the poor; woe to the rich" (Luke 6:20), and Paul's condemnation of the Corinthians for their distinctions within the fellowship based on socioeconomic status were not enough, we now have to encounter James. The scriptures cannot leave us alone on this issue because people see through us.
You and I worship a Lord who in his inauguaral sermon said that he had come to preach good news to the poor and set the oppressed free. We are heirs of an Old Testament tradition that focused on special provisions in the Jewish law to make certain that those who were economically at the bottom of the ladder -- slaves, strangers, widows, orphans, and the poor -- would be protected as part of God's command to us. People see through us!
Daniel Maquire in his seminal work, The Moral Core of Judaism and Christianity, argues that the original Jewish and Christian teachings, like today's texts, produced real cultural and moral revolutions. These teachings pioneered subversive modes of community. They built communities on the basis of shared ideas and commitments and not on accidents of ethnic origin, financial wealth, or formal education. They bonded the nation of the sacred to morality. They marked off favoritism between male and female, Hebrew and Greek, slave and free person, and rich and poor as a prime target for sociomoral reformation. They broke with the surrounding cultures in not linking the sacred to military strength. They parted with the dominant views that the gods are with the mighty. In fact, they went in a completely opposite direction: God is most present when the needs of the poor and the weak are addressed. They pointed toward a world that had never been, but could be.2
You and I have to reclaim that revolution. People can see through us.
In the late 1990s my friend and colleague, Peter Gomes, authored a best-selling work, The Good Book. In his own unique way, Peter laid out before scholars and laity alike a comprehendible, theologically sound, and masterful treatise on the importance of the Bible as sacred scripture. His excellent work called needed attention to the usefulness of the Bible as a "centering" resource for daily living and for wrestling with dilemmas that have vexed us humans since antiquity as we have sought to apply belief in the God of our scriptures to the human condition. One day in a major bookstore I came across a man who was perusing through the books in the "Religion" section of the store. He read the dust jacket of the Gomes book and turned to me. "Isn't this refreshing?" he questioned. "The minister to Harvard University acknowledges what I have known all along: the Bible has been and always will be the Good Book."
Actually he was wrong (the man, not Peter Gomes). "The Good Book" is not a completely good book. It contains a lot of trivia, moral meanness, and human nonsense. It is not the classical work of a lone genius. It is, indeed, a classical vision of the unachieved possibilities of humankind. One must look for its central liberating personality, its central themes as it unfolds in diverse cultures, times, and communities. On this, I believe, Gomes would heartedly agree. Had the reader examined the subtitle, "Reading the Bible With Heart and Mind," and actually read the work, he, perhaps, would have grasped the point. The Bible becomes "The Good Book" only when its readers reclaim the social revolution which is its central theme. When we take into our hearts and minds its message of addressing the social discriminations and abuses of the poor that shackle our world, then it truly becomes "The Good Book" for everyone in our bifurcated, desperate, and codified world. At that point the words about God's love not only fall upon our ears but we actually hear them. At that point, the Bible's images of God's presence not only fall upon our eyes but we see them. At that point all the words of faith that have entered our brain become a part of our work for the kingdom of God. These sensory signals from the ancient text that come to us from every age and culture get through to our spiritual center where they can be translated from words and visions into the deeds of a living faith. We can begin to hear the words of Jesus not just as a voice to help us have peace when we feel lost and alone but also as a challenge to energize us to carry all other humans along with us. At that point Jesus heals us not only inwardly but outwardly as well. The Bible then becomes "The Good Book" for our whole culture. Scripture then enables us to become truly intimate with all God's children. Instead of a select therapeutic community, we can help our church become a just community. We cease looking for a narrow band of intimate encounters among like-minded and like-living social friends and embrace a wide-range of relations among strangers. We put aside favoritism for a larger vision.
This is the image of the church the world needs to see. Otherwise we present to the world nothing but a well-packaged institution that houses ancient words and images that are incapable of being translated by its members into the works and deeds of faith.
Parker J. Palmer's book, The Courage to Teach, offers insight into the human capacity to teach and learn. He contends that "connectedness with the strange and the stranger is at the heart of being educated."3 You and I are both teachers of the word of God and learners from the word of God. Since antiquity teachers and learners like us have wrestled with the question, "What does God want from us?" We know full well what we want from God. Our fervent prayers, whether in times of crisis or joy, are full of our awareness of what we want from God. But what does God want from us? Certainly the text from the book of James offers a clear response: "Connect with strangers and don't play favorites when you do."
After all, people can see through us!
____________
1. "She Saw Through Us," obituary of Martha Schneider Entenmann, The New York Times Magazine, December 29, 1996. The entire obituary may be found in Marvin Siegel, ed., The Last Word: New York Times Book of Obituaries and Farewells (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1997), pp. 326-327.
2. Daniel C. Maquire, The Moral Code of Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993), p. 48.
3. Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of A Teacher's Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1998), p. 91.
