Proper 5 / Pentecost 3 / Ordinary Time 10
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
There is profit in remembering that Abraham is the common ancestor of three great religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 12:1-9
That All The Families Of The Earth May Be Blessed
This passage depicts one of the watershed moments in the religious history of the human race. The Lord says to Abram, "Go." Three great religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) trace their heritage to that crucial moment of decision on Abram's part. The initiative lies wholly with God: Abram is to go to the land the Lord will show him. As a result, he will become "a great nation" (v. 2). In the patriarchal pastoral economy of the ancient Middle East -- an essentially cashless society -- a man's wealth was measured in the living things whose lives he controlled: women, children, slaves, livestock. When the Lord promises to make of Abram "a great nation," it means that -- according to the standards of his own day -- he will one day sit atop a great pyramid of power and respect with multitudes of people and animals serving him. Yet, the Lord has something different in mind for Abram. The Lord is promising to bless him so that "all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (v. 3). Some life-planning consultants tout personal or family "mission statements" as a way of clarifying goals. Abram's family mission statement is other-directed. Abram sets out, with a sizeable entourage (v. 4). His number-two is his nephew, Lot. Abram's wife, Sarai, is mentioned here by name: She will of course play a major role in the story with the miraculous birth of Isaac -- through whom this "great nation" will come into existence. Verses 6 and 7 starkly juxtapose two statements that symbolize a conflict that will continue for millennia, even unto our own day: "At that time the Canaanites were in the land" and "To your offspring I will give this land." Abram concludes this episode by building an altar and making a sacrifice: He is a man of significant and very public piety. No one in that large traveling company has any doubt whom Abram serves.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 4:13-25
Abraham Saved By Faith
Paul reflects back on the story of Abraham, finding in it evidence for his contention that Christians are justified by grace through faith, not by good works. God chose Abraham, he says, by sheer grace -- not because Abraham had lived a good life (v. 13). God's promise "rests on grace" (v. 16). Because God promised to make Abraham "the father of many nations," Paul claims an Abrahamic faith: "for he is the father of all of us" (v. 16). Significantly for the Roman church, Paul is implicitly including the Gentiles. Abraham's advanced age and his presumed physical weakness further demonstrate the power of his faith (v. 19). "He grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God" (v. 20). God is the principal actor here. Abraham's faith was that "God was able to do what he had promised" (v. 21). William Barclay points out, in his Daily Study Bible commentary on this passage, that there are two Greek words for "promise." One, huposchesis, indicates a promise with conditions, a quid pro quo. The other, epaggelia, indicates "a promise made out of the goodness of someone's heart quite unconditionally." It is the second of these two words that Paul uses in this passage. There are two roads to God as Paul sees it. One is the way of good works: an exceedingly arduous road that no one is able to complete. The other is the road of faith, of which Abraham's spiritual journey is the prime example. This first road is a road of peril. The second is a road of promise.
The Gospel
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Jesus Calls Matthew And Heals Two People
Today's selection includes two distinct stories: the calling of Matthew, and the healing of both the young daughter of a synagogue ruler and an anonymous woman who touches Jesus in the midst of a crowd. In between these two pericopes, but excluded from the lectionary selection, is an interchange between Jesus and some disciples of John the Baptist, in which he explains why he and his disciples do not fast. This material is part of a larger section in which Matthew presents Jesus as a shockingly unconventional religious leader who pushes the envelope when it comes to the religious practices of his day. He has just healed a paralytic, offering the man forgiveness and healing quite apart from any confession of sin on his part, and without him even asking for it (verses 2-8). In the call of Matthew, he reaches out to an outcast tax collector (verses 9-13). Tax collectors were reviled, not only because of their close association with the hated governing authorities, but because they were widely suspected of charging extortionate fees. The omitted section on fasting is likewise shocking to the conventional, Pharisaical mind (verses 14-17). In the final section, Jesus ignores the urgent plea of the synagogue ruler, a man of high status, stopping to spend time with an anonymous, ritually unclean woman who needed his healing. The time he loses, tarrying with her, endangers his original errand and the girl does, in fact, die (or, at least, appears to). Yet even this is no obstacle for Jesus. When he takes her by the hand, she gets up.
Preaching Possibilities
Take a look at the world's most serious, intractable conflicts and you'll find one common denominator that's always present at the core: religion. The Israelis and the Palestinians regard each other with hostility across the Jordan River: Judaism vs. Islam. In Northern Ireland, high walls separate one urban neighborhood from another: Catholicism vs. Protestantism (although, thankfully, the Irish situation is getting much more harmonious). The Pakistanis and the Indians swap gunfire with each other across the disputed region of Kashmir: Islam vs. Hinduism.
Couldn't we all just get along?
In fact, we already have more common ground than we realize. At least when it comes to three of the great religions of the world, we have a common ancestor, a single patriarchal figure from whom it all sprang. That man is Abraham.
Genesis tells us Abram -- as we first hear him named -- was 75 years old when he left the city of Haran, located along the Euphrates River in present-day Iraq. Think of that: He was 75! He was at the age that most Middle-Eastern heads of families would have been settling down to retirement in the land of their forefathers, dandling grandchildren on their knee.
There were two problems with this plan. The first problem was that Abram did not live in the land of his forefathers; his family had come from Ur and had only been in Haran for one generation. Abram's father, Terah, had led them from Ur to Haran, and now Terah was dead.
The second problem was that Abram and his wife, Sarai, had no children. The womb of Sarai, in that rather brutal biblical expression, was "barren." Abram was certainly a prosperous man -- a herder of animals and probably a caravan-trader as well -- but he had no heirs to whom he could leave his wealth. There were no children and grandchildren, no progeny.
To a man of that place and time, this was the ultimate tragedy. Remember, this was a primitive culture, one that believed in God (and in some cases, many gods) but had no belief in an afterlife. If there were such a thing as divine blessings, those blessings were synonymous with earthly wealth: land, crops, livestock -- and children.
There's a certain preaching tradition that portrays Abram as a man of uncommon courage, a visionary who heard the voice of God saying, "Go" -- and who instantly left all the trappings of a prosperous life behind, to follow God in radical obedience. That sort of thing may make entertaining sermon fodder, but it doesn't fit the facts.
Abram is not as well-off as all that. Sure, he's gathered some material wealth -- he's got plenty of goats, sheep, tents, and slaves -- but it's all temporary. Nowhere in the Bible do we hear of Abram owning a single piece of property with the exception of a certain cave in the land of Canaan called Machpelah, which would become his burial place.
The truth is, by all reasonable standards of his day, Abram is a failure. Any neighbor who considered his circumstances would have concluded that God has declined to bless him. Because no one back then believed in an afterlife -- other than, perhaps, that bleak Hades-like region called "Sheol" -- the only way people lived on was through their children. Truly, having no children to serve as heirs, in a patriarchal society such as that, is among the blackest of tragedies.
So, when Abram hears the voice of the Lord, saying, "Go," he goes. He probably already has his bags packed in anticipation of such an event. His only other alternative is oblivion.
Abram's response to God's command is the last act of a desperate man. Until that day, he's seen all hope of a normal legacy gradually slip through his fingers. Now, at 75, he has one last roll of the dice in him. He's going to bet everything, for he has nothing to lose. The preacher Halford Luccock has a famous sermon on this text called, "Marching off the Map." That's the way it was for him. When he left Haran, he had little idea of where he was headed, just that he was trusting God to lead him there.
Abram is a lot like the ancestors of many of us immigrants who arrived at places like New York Harbor on the decks of steamships. Surrounded by their humble heaps of luggage, they stare up at the magnificent figure of the Statue of Liberty, and hope against hope that this time everything will turn out all right. They have made the momentous decision to leave all their old hopes behind. Only their new hopes matter now -- the hopes that belong to the unknown land that they are now entering with joy and with trepidation.
It takes a lot of character when times are tough to risk everything on God's way. The temptation is strong to respond, instead, with human striving: to simply redouble our efforts, working harder than before... to lash out at anyone around us whom we consider to be the competition... to perhaps quietly cut that corner or take that short cut that represents unethical behavior. That's what the terrorists of 9/11 did on a massive scale. They cut the ethical corner. They betrayed the deepest principles of the faith they professed, because they believed their political situation to be truly desperate. But instead of betting it all on God, they bet on the misguided work of their own hands. In God's judgment, they will pay for that.
"I will make of you a great nation," says the Lord to Abram. "I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing... in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Genesis 12:2-3). That is the mark of a person who has chosen the risky course of walking in God's way rather than the ways of the world. That's the way of Abram.
Does he know what he's doing? In all likelihood, no. Not in any great detail. All Abram knows is that he's heard a voice, deep inside him, that he takes to be the voice of God. And he's willing to risk everything on that which is most uncertain.
As Abram set out, at the age of 75, on that journey of absolute faith, he began to learn that God's promises are reliable. God eventually gave to Abram a promised land, and to Sarai the remarkable gift of a son in her old age. By these two people of faith, the whole family of the earth has indeed blessed themselves.
And so it continues. The Jews, the Christians, the Muslims -- all of us claim a common heritage as children of Abraham. We Christians claim something more, of course, that goes beyond the other two traditions: that in Jesus Christ the Son, God is uniquely present, "reconciling the world to himself." We are called to share that good news, but Christ's task of peacemaking is so important that it cannot wait upon a Christian commitment by the other. We three faiths must learn to celebrate our common heritage. Like Abraham, we will not begin to live into God's will for our lives until we learn to step out together on a journey into unknown territory as, with God's help, we search out the things that make for peace.
Prayer For The Day
God of Abraham,
who speaks to us in the stillness of the night,
calling us to get up and follow
into an unknown country:
speak to us now,
as we explore this strange, new territory
of a world grown smaller,
where religions once distinct and separate
are now thrown into close proximity to one another.
There is so much we do not understand about our neighbors
who also revere Abraham as their ancestor;
yet, there is also much we have in common
that we are afraid to understand.
Let us hold fast to our own tradition,
but let us also approach our neighbors of other faiths
with open minds and hearts:
knowing that, somehow,
in our coming together
you will be there, too.
In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.
To Illustrate
What would happen if some visionary were to come along and propose that each religious tradition strip away everything about it that was inessential, that was simply cultural tradition -- leaving only the solid elemental core of pure faith at its center. What would remain?
Let's try to list a few ideas.
There would be a belief in one God: simple, undivided, and utterly holy. This God would be great, magnificent, and worthy of praise. We could know this God only as God chose to self-reveal to us.
God would call us and all people to obedience, honoring simple laws of ethical conduct: love neighbor as self, treat others fairly and honestly, love peace, strive for justice, give to the poor. This new, refined world religion would be a highly practical faith: its ethical code so simple that even the smallest child could understand it, but so compelling that even the rulers of nations would acknowledge its wisdom and philosophical elegance.
No one would ever be forced to join this new religion, nor would it try to supplant any other faith. Those who did follow it, however, would see their faith as the fundamental essence of all other religions, and for that reason they would treat every other tradition with respect, honoring the teachings of its most important leaders.
There are many people today who profess to believe in God, but who never do affiliate with a congregation of any religion (except, perhaps, in name only). This new faith, with its simple, unswerving devotion to God and God alone, would surely be attractive to them.
The founders of this new religion would be convinced that, without God, we human beings are nothing. For that reason, they would seek to humble human pride, calling their followers to prayer at regular intervals, at which they would swear their absolute obedience to God. With God at their side, honoring the best of all other religions, this new faith could lead the human race into a new age of peace, harmony, and understanding.
Does this new religion sound at all appealing? If people took it seriously, wouldn't it have potential to solve the world's most serious problems?
These principles are the fundamentals of Islam, as articulated by Muhammad in the seventh century AD.
Surprised? It's understandable. Most of us American Christians have never in our lives sat down and talked with a Muslim about matters of faith -- if, indeed, we've ever talked with a Muslim at all. It's sad, but true, that many in our country take it for granted that all Muslims must surely sympathize with those terrorists who destroyed the World Trade Center and damaged the Pentagon.
The truth is most of them are as appalled at that inhuman violence as we are. What happened on 9/11 was an act of sheer barbarism that betrayed the ideals not only of Islam but of every major religion of the world.
Muhammad didn't actually think he was starting a new religion: at least not at first. He was simply calling his fellow Arabs to a new, single-minded devotion to the one God. As a young man, Muhammad had studied both Judaism and Christianity. In his day, Jews lived throughout Arabia, particularly in the cities of Mecca and Medina. There were Byzantine Christians there, too, in significant numbers. The cousin of Muhammad's wife, a leading figure in their household, was a Christian. So desirous was Muhammad of honoring these other traditions that, when he came to political power, he insisted that Jews and Christians were to be not only tolerated, but protected. If they wished to convert, they could do so; but in his view, there was already sufficient wisdom in each of these traditions to lead people to the one God, the one he called (as did all Arabs), "Allah." He called Jews and Christians "People of the Book" -- a phrase some have suggested can be translated, "People of an Earlier Revelation." In those earliest days, Muhammad taught that Muslims should bow, in their daily prayers, not toward Mecca, but toward Jerusalem.
Obviously, something went very wrong in later centuries. The tolerance that Muhammad had proclaimed lasted only slightly beyond his lifetime. Political rulers led Islamic armies across North Africa into Spain and across Persia into India; they put many Christians and Jews, many Buddhists and Hindus, to the sword. In those scheming political rulers you can see the roots of the violence that is the terrorist's stock in trade. Yet, that sort of thing is no more a part of Islam than a bomb blast in a Belfast neighborhood is a part of Christianity.
If there's to be any hope for reconciliation in this fragmented world, it may be along the lines that Muhammad originally proposed: a return to the simple essence of belief in God that is the common denominator of all religions. That is the only common ground on which we have a hope of meeting one another.
***
Theologian Alan Richardson has written, "According to the Bible our knowledge of God is not like our knowledge of electrons or square roots: We know truth about God only by doing it, not by talking or reasoning about it, just as we know love only by loving. Truth in the biblical sense is something to be practiced."
***
There's a story about a Bible translator in India who was working to translate the New Testament into one of the many dialects of the subcontinent. He was looking for a word for "faith" and was having a difficult time of it.
One day, a young boy of the village came into his study. Hunched over his manuscript, the missionary waved the lad over to a chair in the corner, saying he'd be with him shortly.
He looked up, moments later, to find the boy walking around the chair looking at it from every angle but not sitting on it. The missionary repeated, "Have a seat and I'll be with you in a moment." The boy continued to examine the chair in amazement.
Then the Bible translator realized what was going on. This was such a primitive village that the boy had never in his life seen a Western-style chair. He wasn't sure he could sit on such a flimsy-looking thing and have it bear his weight.
The boy then asked a question in his native language. Included within it was a single word that meant, "Can I give myself to this and know it will hold me up?"
The translator then knew: He had found his word for "faith."
***
The late Roman Catholic teacher Henri J.M. Nouwen, in one of his books, tells of something he learned from some friends of his who are trapeze artists. There is a very special relationship, the circus performers told him, between the person they call the "flyer" and the one they call the "catcher." The flyer, of course, is the one who lets go, and the catcher is the one who hangs by the knees from the other trapeze and catches the flyer. When the flyer reaches the top of his arc, his one task is to let go, arms reaching out into space, and then to remain as still as possible while the catcher grabs hold of him. It's a skill not easily learned, for it goes against every human survival instinct. "The flyer must never try to catch the catcher," the trapeze artist told Nouwen. "The flyer must wait in absolute trust. The catcher will catch him, but he must wait."
There is profit in remembering that Abraham is the common ancestor of three great religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 12:1-9
That All The Families Of The Earth May Be Blessed
This passage depicts one of the watershed moments in the religious history of the human race. The Lord says to Abram, "Go." Three great religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) trace their heritage to that crucial moment of decision on Abram's part. The initiative lies wholly with God: Abram is to go to the land the Lord will show him. As a result, he will become "a great nation" (v. 2). In the patriarchal pastoral economy of the ancient Middle East -- an essentially cashless society -- a man's wealth was measured in the living things whose lives he controlled: women, children, slaves, livestock. When the Lord promises to make of Abram "a great nation," it means that -- according to the standards of his own day -- he will one day sit atop a great pyramid of power and respect with multitudes of people and animals serving him. Yet, the Lord has something different in mind for Abram. The Lord is promising to bless him so that "all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (v. 3). Some life-planning consultants tout personal or family "mission statements" as a way of clarifying goals. Abram's family mission statement is other-directed. Abram sets out, with a sizeable entourage (v. 4). His number-two is his nephew, Lot. Abram's wife, Sarai, is mentioned here by name: She will of course play a major role in the story with the miraculous birth of Isaac -- through whom this "great nation" will come into existence. Verses 6 and 7 starkly juxtapose two statements that symbolize a conflict that will continue for millennia, even unto our own day: "At that time the Canaanites were in the land" and "To your offspring I will give this land." Abram concludes this episode by building an altar and making a sacrifice: He is a man of significant and very public piety. No one in that large traveling company has any doubt whom Abram serves.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 4:13-25
Abraham Saved By Faith
Paul reflects back on the story of Abraham, finding in it evidence for his contention that Christians are justified by grace through faith, not by good works. God chose Abraham, he says, by sheer grace -- not because Abraham had lived a good life (v. 13). God's promise "rests on grace" (v. 16). Because God promised to make Abraham "the father of many nations," Paul claims an Abrahamic faith: "for he is the father of all of us" (v. 16). Significantly for the Roman church, Paul is implicitly including the Gentiles. Abraham's advanced age and his presumed physical weakness further demonstrate the power of his faith (v. 19). "He grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God" (v. 20). God is the principal actor here. Abraham's faith was that "God was able to do what he had promised" (v. 21). William Barclay points out, in his Daily Study Bible commentary on this passage, that there are two Greek words for "promise." One, huposchesis, indicates a promise with conditions, a quid pro quo. The other, epaggelia, indicates "a promise made out of the goodness of someone's heart quite unconditionally." It is the second of these two words that Paul uses in this passage. There are two roads to God as Paul sees it. One is the way of good works: an exceedingly arduous road that no one is able to complete. The other is the road of faith, of which Abraham's spiritual journey is the prime example. This first road is a road of peril. The second is a road of promise.
The Gospel
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Jesus Calls Matthew And Heals Two People
Today's selection includes two distinct stories: the calling of Matthew, and the healing of both the young daughter of a synagogue ruler and an anonymous woman who touches Jesus in the midst of a crowd. In between these two pericopes, but excluded from the lectionary selection, is an interchange between Jesus and some disciples of John the Baptist, in which he explains why he and his disciples do not fast. This material is part of a larger section in which Matthew presents Jesus as a shockingly unconventional religious leader who pushes the envelope when it comes to the religious practices of his day. He has just healed a paralytic, offering the man forgiveness and healing quite apart from any confession of sin on his part, and without him even asking for it (verses 2-8). In the call of Matthew, he reaches out to an outcast tax collector (verses 9-13). Tax collectors were reviled, not only because of their close association with the hated governing authorities, but because they were widely suspected of charging extortionate fees. The omitted section on fasting is likewise shocking to the conventional, Pharisaical mind (verses 14-17). In the final section, Jesus ignores the urgent plea of the synagogue ruler, a man of high status, stopping to spend time with an anonymous, ritually unclean woman who needed his healing. The time he loses, tarrying with her, endangers his original errand and the girl does, in fact, die (or, at least, appears to). Yet even this is no obstacle for Jesus. When he takes her by the hand, she gets up.
Preaching Possibilities
Take a look at the world's most serious, intractable conflicts and you'll find one common denominator that's always present at the core: religion. The Israelis and the Palestinians regard each other with hostility across the Jordan River: Judaism vs. Islam. In Northern Ireland, high walls separate one urban neighborhood from another: Catholicism vs. Protestantism (although, thankfully, the Irish situation is getting much more harmonious). The Pakistanis and the Indians swap gunfire with each other across the disputed region of Kashmir: Islam vs. Hinduism.
Couldn't we all just get along?
In fact, we already have more common ground than we realize. At least when it comes to three of the great religions of the world, we have a common ancestor, a single patriarchal figure from whom it all sprang. That man is Abraham.
Genesis tells us Abram -- as we first hear him named -- was 75 years old when he left the city of Haran, located along the Euphrates River in present-day Iraq. Think of that: He was 75! He was at the age that most Middle-Eastern heads of families would have been settling down to retirement in the land of their forefathers, dandling grandchildren on their knee.
There were two problems with this plan. The first problem was that Abram did not live in the land of his forefathers; his family had come from Ur and had only been in Haran for one generation. Abram's father, Terah, had led them from Ur to Haran, and now Terah was dead.
The second problem was that Abram and his wife, Sarai, had no children. The womb of Sarai, in that rather brutal biblical expression, was "barren." Abram was certainly a prosperous man -- a herder of animals and probably a caravan-trader as well -- but he had no heirs to whom he could leave his wealth. There were no children and grandchildren, no progeny.
To a man of that place and time, this was the ultimate tragedy. Remember, this was a primitive culture, one that believed in God (and in some cases, many gods) but had no belief in an afterlife. If there were such a thing as divine blessings, those blessings were synonymous with earthly wealth: land, crops, livestock -- and children.
There's a certain preaching tradition that portrays Abram as a man of uncommon courage, a visionary who heard the voice of God saying, "Go" -- and who instantly left all the trappings of a prosperous life behind, to follow God in radical obedience. That sort of thing may make entertaining sermon fodder, but it doesn't fit the facts.
Abram is not as well-off as all that. Sure, he's gathered some material wealth -- he's got plenty of goats, sheep, tents, and slaves -- but it's all temporary. Nowhere in the Bible do we hear of Abram owning a single piece of property with the exception of a certain cave in the land of Canaan called Machpelah, which would become his burial place.
The truth is, by all reasonable standards of his day, Abram is a failure. Any neighbor who considered his circumstances would have concluded that God has declined to bless him. Because no one back then believed in an afterlife -- other than, perhaps, that bleak Hades-like region called "Sheol" -- the only way people lived on was through their children. Truly, having no children to serve as heirs, in a patriarchal society such as that, is among the blackest of tragedies.
So, when Abram hears the voice of the Lord, saying, "Go," he goes. He probably already has his bags packed in anticipation of such an event. His only other alternative is oblivion.
Abram's response to God's command is the last act of a desperate man. Until that day, he's seen all hope of a normal legacy gradually slip through his fingers. Now, at 75, he has one last roll of the dice in him. He's going to bet everything, for he has nothing to lose. The preacher Halford Luccock has a famous sermon on this text called, "Marching off the Map." That's the way it was for him. When he left Haran, he had little idea of where he was headed, just that he was trusting God to lead him there.
Abram is a lot like the ancestors of many of us immigrants who arrived at places like New York Harbor on the decks of steamships. Surrounded by their humble heaps of luggage, they stare up at the magnificent figure of the Statue of Liberty, and hope against hope that this time everything will turn out all right. They have made the momentous decision to leave all their old hopes behind. Only their new hopes matter now -- the hopes that belong to the unknown land that they are now entering with joy and with trepidation.
It takes a lot of character when times are tough to risk everything on God's way. The temptation is strong to respond, instead, with human striving: to simply redouble our efforts, working harder than before... to lash out at anyone around us whom we consider to be the competition... to perhaps quietly cut that corner or take that short cut that represents unethical behavior. That's what the terrorists of 9/11 did on a massive scale. They cut the ethical corner. They betrayed the deepest principles of the faith they professed, because they believed their political situation to be truly desperate. But instead of betting it all on God, they bet on the misguided work of their own hands. In God's judgment, they will pay for that.
"I will make of you a great nation," says the Lord to Abram. "I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing... in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Genesis 12:2-3). That is the mark of a person who has chosen the risky course of walking in God's way rather than the ways of the world. That's the way of Abram.
Does he know what he's doing? In all likelihood, no. Not in any great detail. All Abram knows is that he's heard a voice, deep inside him, that he takes to be the voice of God. And he's willing to risk everything on that which is most uncertain.
As Abram set out, at the age of 75, on that journey of absolute faith, he began to learn that God's promises are reliable. God eventually gave to Abram a promised land, and to Sarai the remarkable gift of a son in her old age. By these two people of faith, the whole family of the earth has indeed blessed themselves.
And so it continues. The Jews, the Christians, the Muslims -- all of us claim a common heritage as children of Abraham. We Christians claim something more, of course, that goes beyond the other two traditions: that in Jesus Christ the Son, God is uniquely present, "reconciling the world to himself." We are called to share that good news, but Christ's task of peacemaking is so important that it cannot wait upon a Christian commitment by the other. We three faiths must learn to celebrate our common heritage. Like Abraham, we will not begin to live into God's will for our lives until we learn to step out together on a journey into unknown territory as, with God's help, we search out the things that make for peace.
Prayer For The Day
God of Abraham,
who speaks to us in the stillness of the night,
calling us to get up and follow
into an unknown country:
speak to us now,
as we explore this strange, new territory
of a world grown smaller,
where religions once distinct and separate
are now thrown into close proximity to one another.
There is so much we do not understand about our neighbors
who also revere Abraham as their ancestor;
yet, there is also much we have in common
that we are afraid to understand.
Let us hold fast to our own tradition,
but let us also approach our neighbors of other faiths
with open minds and hearts:
knowing that, somehow,
in our coming together
you will be there, too.
In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.
To Illustrate
What would happen if some visionary were to come along and propose that each religious tradition strip away everything about it that was inessential, that was simply cultural tradition -- leaving only the solid elemental core of pure faith at its center. What would remain?
Let's try to list a few ideas.
There would be a belief in one God: simple, undivided, and utterly holy. This God would be great, magnificent, and worthy of praise. We could know this God only as God chose to self-reveal to us.
God would call us and all people to obedience, honoring simple laws of ethical conduct: love neighbor as self, treat others fairly and honestly, love peace, strive for justice, give to the poor. This new, refined world religion would be a highly practical faith: its ethical code so simple that even the smallest child could understand it, but so compelling that even the rulers of nations would acknowledge its wisdom and philosophical elegance.
No one would ever be forced to join this new religion, nor would it try to supplant any other faith. Those who did follow it, however, would see their faith as the fundamental essence of all other religions, and for that reason they would treat every other tradition with respect, honoring the teachings of its most important leaders.
There are many people today who profess to believe in God, but who never do affiliate with a congregation of any religion (except, perhaps, in name only). This new faith, with its simple, unswerving devotion to God and God alone, would surely be attractive to them.
The founders of this new religion would be convinced that, without God, we human beings are nothing. For that reason, they would seek to humble human pride, calling their followers to prayer at regular intervals, at which they would swear their absolute obedience to God. With God at their side, honoring the best of all other religions, this new faith could lead the human race into a new age of peace, harmony, and understanding.
Does this new religion sound at all appealing? If people took it seriously, wouldn't it have potential to solve the world's most serious problems?
These principles are the fundamentals of Islam, as articulated by Muhammad in the seventh century AD.
Surprised? It's understandable. Most of us American Christians have never in our lives sat down and talked with a Muslim about matters of faith -- if, indeed, we've ever talked with a Muslim at all. It's sad, but true, that many in our country take it for granted that all Muslims must surely sympathize with those terrorists who destroyed the World Trade Center and damaged the Pentagon.
The truth is most of them are as appalled at that inhuman violence as we are. What happened on 9/11 was an act of sheer barbarism that betrayed the ideals not only of Islam but of every major religion of the world.
Muhammad didn't actually think he was starting a new religion: at least not at first. He was simply calling his fellow Arabs to a new, single-minded devotion to the one God. As a young man, Muhammad had studied both Judaism and Christianity. In his day, Jews lived throughout Arabia, particularly in the cities of Mecca and Medina. There were Byzantine Christians there, too, in significant numbers. The cousin of Muhammad's wife, a leading figure in their household, was a Christian. So desirous was Muhammad of honoring these other traditions that, when he came to political power, he insisted that Jews and Christians were to be not only tolerated, but protected. If they wished to convert, they could do so; but in his view, there was already sufficient wisdom in each of these traditions to lead people to the one God, the one he called (as did all Arabs), "Allah." He called Jews and Christians "People of the Book" -- a phrase some have suggested can be translated, "People of an Earlier Revelation." In those earliest days, Muhammad taught that Muslims should bow, in their daily prayers, not toward Mecca, but toward Jerusalem.
Obviously, something went very wrong in later centuries. The tolerance that Muhammad had proclaimed lasted only slightly beyond his lifetime. Political rulers led Islamic armies across North Africa into Spain and across Persia into India; they put many Christians and Jews, many Buddhists and Hindus, to the sword. In those scheming political rulers you can see the roots of the violence that is the terrorist's stock in trade. Yet, that sort of thing is no more a part of Islam than a bomb blast in a Belfast neighborhood is a part of Christianity.
If there's to be any hope for reconciliation in this fragmented world, it may be along the lines that Muhammad originally proposed: a return to the simple essence of belief in God that is the common denominator of all religions. That is the only common ground on which we have a hope of meeting one another.
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Theologian Alan Richardson has written, "According to the Bible our knowledge of God is not like our knowledge of electrons or square roots: We know truth about God only by doing it, not by talking or reasoning about it, just as we know love only by loving. Truth in the biblical sense is something to be practiced."
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There's a story about a Bible translator in India who was working to translate the New Testament into one of the many dialects of the subcontinent. He was looking for a word for "faith" and was having a difficult time of it.
One day, a young boy of the village came into his study. Hunched over his manuscript, the missionary waved the lad over to a chair in the corner, saying he'd be with him shortly.
He looked up, moments later, to find the boy walking around the chair looking at it from every angle but not sitting on it. The missionary repeated, "Have a seat and I'll be with you in a moment." The boy continued to examine the chair in amazement.
Then the Bible translator realized what was going on. This was such a primitive village that the boy had never in his life seen a Western-style chair. He wasn't sure he could sit on such a flimsy-looking thing and have it bear his weight.
The boy then asked a question in his native language. Included within it was a single word that meant, "Can I give myself to this and know it will hold me up?"
The translator then knew: He had found his word for "faith."
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The late Roman Catholic teacher Henri J.M. Nouwen, in one of his books, tells of something he learned from some friends of his who are trapeze artists. There is a very special relationship, the circus performers told him, between the person they call the "flyer" and the one they call the "catcher." The flyer, of course, is the one who lets go, and the catcher is the one who hangs by the knees from the other trapeze and catches the flyer. When the flyer reaches the top of his arc, his one task is to let go, arms reaching out into space, and then to remain as still as possible while the catcher grabs hold of him. It's a skill not easily learned, for it goes against every human survival instinct. "The flyer must never try to catch the catcher," the trapeze artist told Nouwen. "The flyer must wait in absolute trust. The catcher will catch him, but he must wait."
