Thursday, March 08, 2012

the sound of silence

I'm a good listener.  Sometimes.  I tune people out, too.  Including my wife. I regret those times when I am not paying attention. I think listening is important. Everyone deserves to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be understood.  But there are times when it is hard to pay attention, to listen to someone else.
God, too, has a dodgy track record in the listening department.  In Exodus, God hears the cries and prayers of his people and rescues them from tyranny and suffering.  The Psalmists give God mixed reviews; Psalm 116: "I love the Lord because he has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He inclined his ear to me, therefore I will on Him as long as I live." Psalm 34: "When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles."  Psalm 61 "Hear my prayer, O God; listen to my prayer. From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart faints."  The Psalms are such wonderful prayers for us, because they are honest and real.  Does God hear me when I cry out, when I pray?  Is anyone out there listening?  I have wondered that more than once as I have attempted to pray.
The biblical prophets suggest that God will not listen to the prayers of those who pray to God, but ignore the plight of their vulnerable neighbors.  Isaiah 1:  "When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not listen.  Your hands are full of blood."  Isaiah  also suggests that the dullness and indifference of the religious community is God's doing, so that they might experience the fullness of God's absence.  "make the mind of this people dull, and stop their eyes, and shut their ears, so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and comprehend with their minds, and turn to be healed."  Jesus will borrow this passage to interpret the use of parables to his disciples.  Somehow our inability to see or hear God is part of God's mysterious work, too.  Huh.

the sound of silence

I'm a good listener.  Sometimes.  I tune people out, too.  Including my wife. I regret those times when I am not paying attention. I think listening is important. Everyone deserves to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be understood.  But there are times when it is hard to pay attention, to listen to someone else.  
God, too, has a dodgy track record in the listening department.  In Exodus, God hears the cries and prayers of his people and rescues them from tyranny and suffering.  The Psalmists give God mixed reviews; Psalm 116: "I love the Lord because he has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He inclined his ear to me, therefore I will on Him as long as I live." Psalm 34: "When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles."  Psalm 61 "Hear my prayer, O God; listen to my prayer. From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart faints."  The Psalms are such wonderful prayers for us, because they are honest and real.  Does God hear me when I cry out, when I pray?  Is anyone out there listening?  I have wondered that more than once as I have attempted to pray.
The biblical prophets suggest that God will not listen to the prayers of those who pray to God, but ignore the plight of their vulnerable neighbors.  Isaiah 1:  "When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not listen.  Your hands are full of blood."  Isaiah  also suggests that the dullness and indifference of the religious community is God's doing, so that they might experience the fullness of God's absence.  "make the mind of this people dull, and stop their eyes, and shut their ears, so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and comprehend with their minds, and turn to be healed."  Jesus will borrow this passage to interpret the use of parables to his disciples.  Somehow our inability to see or hear God is part of God's mysterious work, too.  Huh.

Monday, March 05, 2012

necessary death

We're in Lent and we Lutherans know what that is about.  It is about Potlucks and prayers, the ol' rugged cross and beneath the cross of Jesus.  We are following the story of Jesus' road to the cross. And we know what that means.  We will hear the same story again; the passion, the suffering, the betrayal, the blood.  We know how this story goes.  The hymns and the liturgy reflect a more solemn tone.  We sing songs in minor keys.  We actually fast from saying the A word---the one that ends with leluia because it was a word of celebration.  
As early as this second week of Lent, we get this account of Jesus' teaching about his own suffering and death. We could say that he also gives a sneak peek at Easter too, since he does mention that he will rise on the third day--a part of the teaching the disciples seem to ignore altogether in their response to him.  They get hung up on his disturbing plan to go to Jerusalem, be tried, beaten, and crucified.  I can't imagine why they protest.  Can you?  I mean they gave up everything to follow him, to minister beside him.  And they liked it. They liked feeding people and helping the poor and healing the sick.  They liked being part of a revolution, a part of history.They were part of the bigger story and they all believed it.  They were swept up in his campaign for social justice, health care, sexual equality, economic freedom from the threats of poverty and the idols of wealth.  They caught his vision for a new kingdom, in which God's chosen would rule and true peace would finally come, peace and freedom from oppression and fear.  They found themselves on the inside of the greatest story as it was unfolding.  They believed they were part of something bigger, something great.  A movement to change human history. I believe that these guys thought that to be true.  They believed in him.  And they would fight to keep it alive, because they were invested 100%.
So, why does Jesus tell the disciples about his death? What purpose did it serve?  This Unbearable truth.  Some scholars believe that this part of the narrative is a post-resurrection insertion by the author that gives Jesus the divine gift of foreknowledge.  It is quite something to introduce the end of the story in the middle.  Most authors choose to keep the ending to themselves and Mark employs the keeping and telling of secrets as another way to keep the reader involved.  Often Jesus will tell his disciples or someone he heals to tell no one.  And the word about hims spreads.  Maybe he used some reverse psychology.  You know, I have a secret but don't tell anyone.  Come on Pinky swear.  And then after swearing on someone's grave you find yourself telling.
So why does Jesus tell them at all?  He surely doesn't do it out of fear.  He's not asking for protection.  He doesn't tell them in order to sound powerful.  His knowledge of his future does not in any way prevent it from happening.  Its unavoidable, so it seems.  Some people wonder if Jesus had a death wish, if he perpetrated the whole thing himself, practically arranging his own arrest and crucifixion.  He certainly did not avoid mixing it up with the authorities.  He lets them know what he thinks about their blindness.  So why does he tell them?  He tells them not once but three times.
  • It's Instructional. We are told that he began to teach them.  This is not an informative speech.  He expects this teaching to form them, to guide them, to give them not mere knowledge but wisdom and understanding.  He teaches them something that they will need to know and apply.  Yes, this is an applicable teaching. I am sad to say this.  Because if he is passing on this bit of wisdom to them, and they learn from it that his death, and their own sacrifices, will actually serve to advance the movement of God's kingdom; then it may be true that Jesus is giving new meaning to death altogether here.  Death is the servant of the cause.  Mortality makes every one vulnerable.  But it seems to give the Christians strength to endure hardships. Because they believe a sacrificial death is good.  Not as a motivation to insight riot or strap a bomb to one's chest in a crowded market.  That is murder/suicide, not sacrifice.  Dr. King, Gandhi they die Christ-like deaths. Christians are willing to face the firing squad, willing to nurse the diseased and dying,and risk becoming sick too.  Some sociologists of religion believe that one of the reasons Christianity grew so rapidly was because a 2nd century plague ravaged Rome and only the Christians remained in the city to minister to the dying.  
  • The master dies but the movement lives on in the disciples. Their inspiration motivates them to inspire thru meaningful sacrifice. Things worth devoting your life to, loving relationships, justice, peace, compassion for the suffering, Racial or economic equality.  These are things worth risking your life for. Bearing the cross is not a form of suicide; it is not the glorification of death.  Death is still ugly and sad.  Bearing the cross is taking up a work that subverts, overturns, and deconstructs the world's greatest problem; the fear of a meaningless death.  To take up your cross is to embrace a meaningful work that serves humanity and gives life to the world.  
  • What would it look like if the church saw itself more as a movement of risk-takers, willing to sacrifice themselves for others, willing to be vulnerable, willing to die?  What would it look like for the church to give itself away, to become free of the constraints of the weight of its own mortality?  Even as an institution, what would it mean for a congregation to devote itself to giving itself away instead of keeping itself alive?  Faithful stewardship demands that congregations give creatively and generously.  We live in an age when financial constraints make sustainability a challenge for small congregations.  How can we be the church in such circumstances? What cross are we called to bear?     
  • The primary motivation in our age is to achieve immortality---to cheat death, to live long and prosper.  And what is wrong with that?  It is a way to live.  Its just not the way of Christ. Being faithful is counter intuitive.  It doesn't make sense; ask Horton. (We read Dr. Seuss' "Horton Hatches the Egg" today).  But just as an egg is hatched, the dead will be raised.  A sacrificial death is vindicated by the emergence of something new.  Has something emerged at Zion that may be a sign of resurrection and life, even as other parts of our life seem to be dying? How do we, like Peter, stand in the way of the inevitable death and resurrection that awaits the church?   This teaching is a hard teaching.  Help us God to accept it and follow the one who has died and risen, showing us that the way of the Kingdom is the way of the cross.  Amen.