Subversive, Scandalous, Extravagant

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost / July 24, 2011

This past week Tonisha and I were talking about reading and writing, and somehow we got onto the topic of vocabulary words.  There are so many expressive words that we don’t often use, like tintinnabulation, a noun that means “the ringing of bells”.   The word almost sounds like what it means!  The Oxford English Dictionary has over 171 thousand words that are in current use and over 47 thousand words that are obsolete.[1]  Interestingly, the average American has a working vocabulary of approximately 400 words.[2]  We don’t need all these other words, but sometimes they help us to express ourselves in ways that our working vocabulary cannot.

This week, as I studied these parables that all begin, “The kingdom of heaven is like...” three vocabulary words came to mind: subversive, scandalous, and extravagant.  These are not words we use every day, but then these parables describe a kingdom that is unlike anything we have ever imagined. 

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a farmer took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs.” Mustard was the kudzu of the Middle East.  It grew like crazy, and the tiny seeds produced by the bush could be carried by the wind and scattered all over the place.  Today, in the Southeast, Jesus might say: “The kingdom of heaven is like kudzu that a farmer took and planted among his grape vines.”  Kudzu can grow as much as six feet a day and the leaves can become larger than dinner plates.  The kudzu would rapidly overtake the vineyard, smothering the grape vines.  This is subversive! Why would a farmer undermine an existing crop?  Why would a farmer deliberately plant something that has the potential to overtake the field and destroy the crop?  Wouldn’t it make more sense for the parable to read: “The kingdom of heaven is like corn planted in perfectly straight rows, all neat and in order”?  What are we supposed to do with a kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things?

Jesus doesn’t answer these questions.  He simply tells another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”  Three measures of flour will make enough bread for 100 to 150 people.  Unlike today, when yeast comes in neat little packets that we pull out when we are ready to use, in Jesus’ time the yeast was some of the left-over dough from the previous batch of bread.  It was always risky to use, because it could easily go bad and destroy the next batch of bread.  So it is quite scandalous that the woman leavened enough flour to make bread for over 100 people! It is shocking and even disgraceful behavior. What if she ruined all that good flour?  And where are the 100-plus people she is planning on feeding?  Wouldn’t it make more sense for the parable to read: “The kingdom of heaven is like flour that a woman sifted and placed into sacks so that it would be ready to use at a later time”?  What are we supposed to do with a kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things?

These parables point to the subversive and scandalous nature of the kingdom – a kingdom that upsets the balance and order of this world – a kingdom that takes risks that seem foolish and unnecessary.  And as we wonder, what are we supposed to do with this? Jesus goes on to tell another parable.

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a tenant farmer found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys the field.”  The tenant farmer didn’t steal the treasure or take the treasure to the owner of the field.  Instead, he hid the treasure again and sold everything to buy the field.  Isn’t this dishonest?  Isn’t his behavior scandalous?  And then consider the extravagance – he sold everything he had just to buy the field.  That seems wasteful, even crazy.  Shouldn’t this parable read: “The kingdom of heaven is like a tenant farmer who found a treasure hidden in a field and took it to his master who rewarded him greatly”?  What are we supposed to do with a kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things?

Well, the kingdom of heaven is also “like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”  The merchants of Jesus’ time were like the stereotypical used car salesmen of today.  Their goal was to make money, even if they had to misrepresent their product in order to do so.  A typical pearl merchant would be out to buy cheap pearls and market them as fine pearls so that he could make a tidy profit.  And yet, this merchant puts himself out of business when he finds one amazing pearl, selling everything he had just to buy this pearl.  Extravagant.  Scandalous.  Certainly questionable behavior for anyone, but especially for a merchant.  What are we supposed to do with a kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things?

We are supposed to seek this kingdom first and foremost.  If we mean it when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” then we should seek His kingdom in all things.  But these parables certainly lead us to question just what this kingdom is that we are seeking.  A subversive kingdom that undermines the order of this world?  A scandalous kingdom that shocks us and even upsets us?  An extravagant kingdom where people sell all that they have to buy one thing?  Well, yes, this is the kingdom that we seek – this kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things.

For example, we respect and obey President Obama and Governor Perdue, but we worship our King and Lord, Jesus Christ. We may pray FOR the leaders of this world and this community, but we pray TO the Creator of the universe, the one who has all power and authority. This is subversive!  Our worship and our prayers are like planting mustard seeds – the tiniest of seeds – knowing the day will come when the kingdoms of this world will cease to be, and God’s kingdom will flourish like a mustard tree on earth.

And we are assured that this kingdom will come and has already come because of Jesus.  We don’t have to sell all that we have to buy the one thing of great value because God has already given us the most valuable gift of all through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  There is no need to play it safe and only leaven a small amount of bread, or perhaps eat unleavened bread; for we know that through the resurrection, Jesus Christ has promised abundant life for all – the small amount of leaven discovered that Easter morning when the women encountered their Risen Lord is more than enough to leaven the Bread of Life in which we all share even to this day.

So what is the kingdom of heaven like today? The kingdom of heaven is like a group of Christians gathered at Loaves & Fishes on a Tuesday night elbowing one another and stepping on toes and talking and laughing as they seek to fill grocery bags with yummy food for the hungry.  The kingdom of heaven is like a group of youth who spend their Saturday night selling fruit cups to raise money for orphans in Africa.  The kingdom of heaven is like a small congregation that cannot afford a full-time pastor making bold plans to open a food pantry that will feed all who are hungry.  The kingdom of heaven is like a grocery cart in a sanctuary.  The kingdom of heaven is like a group of people who so firmly believe that Jesus is Lord that they spend every Sunday morning worshipping God.  The kingdom of heaven is like the tiniest piece of bread dipped into a cup. 

What are we supposed to do with a kingdom that disrupts the expected order of things?  Jump for joy! Praise God! Shout Alleluia! Clap your hands and stamp your feet!  Get on board and cause more disruption!  Perhaps this sounds subversive and scandalous and extravagant.  Well, that’s because it is!  But we know the expected order is broken – people everywhere are hungry and hurting and in need of healing.  The expected order needs to be disrupted, and indeed has already been disrupted by Jesus Christ.  So invite Jesus to cause even more disruption in your homes, at work, in your relationships, with your free time, and in this congregation.  Invite Jesus to use you to further disrupt the broken order of this world so that the King of heaven can truly rule in every heart.  “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”   

---

[1] http://oxforddictionaries.com/page/93

[2] A statistic I recall from my readings on education and poverty @ 2005.

Rage that Leads to Praise

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 / Psalm 139

Fifth Sunday After Pentecost / July 17, 2011

Some days the pain and suffering of the world feel like more than I can bear.  The forces of evil threaten to overpower me; the weight of sin pulls me to my knees.  On days like this I read a parable like this one and simply rage at God.  Lord, how is it possible that everyone was asleep when the enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat? Could no one stay awake, not even for one hour?  And why is it that the weeds cannot be pulled?  Why is the wheat so fragile that it will be uprooted if the weeds are pulled?  It is not fair that the weeds get to grow up with the wheat, stealing the nutrients and moisture from the soil and threatening to strangle the wheat.  Why do we have to wait until the harvest to burn the weeds?  And why doesn’t the farmer hunt down the enemy and punish him?  Why Lord?  Why is there evil in the world?  And how are we supposed to keep going when pain and suffering surround us? 

This week I was raging at God for leading me to pray for the hungry before every meal.  “Keep us ever mindful of those who are hungry today.”  I’ve been praying those words since the Food Ministry meeting we had last fall – every time I sit down to eat – keep us ever mindful of those who are hungry today.  I was raging at God because not only am I mindful of them, I now go to the grocery store thinking, “Buy one, give one.”  Mindful has turned into sitting with the hungry every Thursday hearing their stories and helping them get food.  This week I spoke with a single mother who had a decent job, but got fired because she missed work once too often for taking care of her sick child.  She’s looking for another job, but in the meantime she may lose her apartment and her child is hungry.  Then a woman suffering from disabling pain shared her story.  She lives in subsidized housing and receives food stamps.  But this month her monthly rent increased and her food stamps decreased while her income remained the same.  With each story, I realize that many of us are one or two paychecks away from hunger.  And I rage: Why, God?  Why are there people right here in this community who are hungry?  Why?

This week was especially difficult for me as I also coordinated a presentation on Hispanic ministries for the district clergy meeting.  My colleague invited a young lady who is getting ready to start sixth grade to speak to the clergy.  This young lady stood in front of the pastors and described her anguish when her father was arrested and put in jail because he did not have a valid driver’s license.  He has lived in Burlington more than twenty years and has an expired license that he cannot renew because of our laws.  How is he supposed to get to work?  For twenty days, as her father sat in jail, this young lady and her family lived in fear – fear that he would be deported back to a country he barely remembers.  Fear that the family might lose their home because their father lost his job and his income.  And rage at the unfairness of a system that would leave her living in fear. Why, God?  Why are families being torn apart in our community?  Why?

The truth is most of us have raged at God or have a reason to rage at God.  Lord, why did the person I love so dearly have to die?  Why is my good friend so sick?  Why is this loving relationship broken?  Why is this marriage so painful?  Why did I lose my job?  Why is the world the way it is?  Why do I hurt so much?  Why is there evil in the world? Why do the weeds get to grow up alongside the wheat?  Why are human beings so incredibly fragile?

And our rage often leads us to cry out to God for help or revenge.  Our psalmist cries out today: “O that you would kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me... Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you? I hate them with perfect hatred!” (Ps 139:19-22).  So we cry out to God: I hate evil, I despise the effects of sin, I can’t stand to see people suffer.  Destroy the enemy, O God! O that you would collect and burn all of those weeds today, Lord!

Friends, maybe you’ve never been invited to rage at God.  Maybe you’ve never cried out to God with such passion.  Maybe you are even horrified that I stand here today complaining to God.  And yet, we all complain.  We all experience anger and sadness and grief.  The thing is, if we rage and cry alone then the enemy wins.  If we complain silently, we separate ourselves from the love of God and neighbor.  When we isolate ourselves our suffering becomes truly painful.  Healing comes when we turn to God, even when we turn to God in anger and hurt and disappointment.  Hope comes when we invite God into our deepest suffering.

After all, God knows our suffering.  Just look at the cross!  On the cross we see the Son of God suffering – experiencing the terror of crucifixion.  The horror of being whipped and the humiliation of being stripped; desperate thirst and excruciating pain.  From the cross we hear Jesus lament: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  As we gaze at the cross it looks like evil has won, the weeds have strangled the wheat.  It is finished.

And yet, it is not finished.  It is from the cross that Jesus forgives the soldiers who crucified him and promises that one of the criminals dying with him will be with him in paradise.  It is from the cross that Jesus gives his mother over into the care of his beloved disciple.  The cross – a symbol of extreme suffering – is also filled with hope and the promise of new life.  In the midst of suffering there is forgiveness and the assurance that we are not alone.  The cross is not the end, but the beginning.  And even as Jesus breathed his last on that Good Friday, we stand in the certain hope of resurrection. 

So rage at God.  Complain to God.  Cry for help.  Get all that anger and hurt and disappointment out into the open.  God can handle it.  God can withstand the worst you can throw at him.  And then, listen as God re-narrates the story for you.  Yes, the enemy did plant weeds among the wheat while we were all asleep, and yes, the weeds and the wheat will grow up together.  The weeds will grow in the same sunlight and draw nutrients from the same soil and rely on the same water as the wheat.  Sin and evil are in the world; sin and evil are all around us.  But because of the cross they will never have the final word. 

Notice several things about our parable.  The weeds do not strangle the wheat.  The wheat is still able to grow and produce its fruit, despite the weeds.  And a day of harvest is coming. On that day the weeds will be bound and burned and the wheat will be collected into the barn.  The good seed, the children of the kingdom, are able to grow and prosper despite the sin and evil in the world.  We are able to grow and prosper despite the sin and evil in our own lives.  And at the end of the age, the Son of Man will send his angels to collect and destroy all the causes of sin and evil, throwing them into the fire.  Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.

Our raging connects us to God.  It opens the door for us to see God’s abundant goodness.  Our complaining provides space for us to experience God’s amazing love.  We begin to see that we aren’t going to get clear answers to our questions – and that is okay.  God isn’t going to strike down our enemy or take away our pain.  But through the cross, through the incredible love poured out at Calvary, our pain is transformed.  We are able to lift our eyes beyond the sin and suffering of this world – to see that we will thrive in this world.  We are still able to praise God.  And we know for certain that the harvest is coming – the day is coming when God will wipe every tear from our eyes, and death and mourning and crying and pain will be no more (Rev 21:4).

It’s time for us as the people of God to reclaim the practice of lament.  For years we have overlooked those psalms that rage at God. Even today, our lectionary skipped the verses in Psalm 139 where the psalmist cries out to God in anger.  For some reason, we’ve believed our worship of God should always be joyful.  In some cases, it feels like we are supposed to leave our pain and suffering and disappointment at the church door as we enter into worship.  And yet, sin and suffering are in the world and we bring the weight of the world with us when we enter God’s sanctuary.  We need space to lament.  A place to rage at God and cry out for help or revenge.  A time for God to take all our pain and sorrow and transform it and give it meaning.  God will take the worst we can throw at him and bring good out of it.  We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).

Faithful lament will lead us back to God.  It will not take away the pain we have experienced – that pain will be a part of us until the end of the age.  But God will use that pain to make us stronger and more faithful.  God will use that pain to help us grow more and more into the likeness of God.

What does it mean for us to be a community that practices lament?  What does it mean for us to bring both our hot tears and our abundant joy to God?  I think it means we are living life to its fullest, acknowledging the presence of evil in the world, confessing our sins before God and one another, and living into the hope that this is not how it will always be.  Then we can praise God in the assurance that the harvest is coming.  Thanks be to God!

*****

Faithful lament includes both raging at God and praising God.  So in response to a sermon where I’ve done a lot of raging at God, let us sing praise to God.  I’ve chosen the hymn, “This is My Father’s World” on page 144 of the hymnal because of the words of the closing verse:

This is my Father’s world, O let me ne’er forget

that though the wrong seems oft so strong,

God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world: why should my heart be sad?

The Lord is King, let the heavens ring!

God reigns; let the earth be glad!

Fence Sitters and Cliff Divers

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

July 3, 2011 / Third Sunday after Pentecost

Have you ever spent time sitting on a split rail fence?  You sit on the top rail with your feet resting on the rail below, and from there you have a pretty good view of the world.  I don’t see very many split rail fences any more – most of our fences are chain link fences – so I don’t see very many people literally sitting on fences.  And yet, it remains an expression we use: “Sitting on the fence.” 

A fence sitter is a person who either chooses to remain neutral or cannot make up his mind.  Often, they prefer to watch what is happening – they choose not to get involved.  In a close election, the candidates try to win over the fence sitters, trying to get them down off that fence on their side of the fence.  Some people choose to stay on the fence, not taking sides, and just watching the events of the world go by.  

When Jesus asked the crowds in today’s gospel lesson, “But to what shall I compare this generation?” (11:16), I got a vivid image of a generation of fence sitters.  In the verses leading up to this verse, John’s disciples have come to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” (11:3).  The things they’ve seen and heard about Jesus don’t match their expectations of the Messiah.  Jesus has come eating and drinking, making sure the wedding party has enough wine, and throwing a dinner party for five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish.  Jesus has befriended tax collectors and sinners; he has laid hands on those untouchable lepers and spoken healing words to prostitutes.  His actions were abundant and generous and all inclusive – everyone was welcome at his parties.

On the other hand, John came neither eating nor drinking.  John wore itchy camel’s hair clothing and hung out in the wilderness of Judea.  He called people to repent, warning them to flee from the wrath to come.  John left us with images of chaff burning with unquenchable fire.  John was a fire and brimstone preacher – scary and a little wild – so very different from Jesus.

“To what shall I compare this generation?”  Jesus’ generation was a generation of fence sitters.  “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn” (11:17).  This generation saw Jesus eating and drinking and didn’t join the party.  Instead they called him a glutton and a drunkard.  This generation saw John preaching repentance and refused to be baptized.  Instead they said ‘He has a demon.’  This generation saw the disciples perform deeds of power – the sick were healed, the blind received their sight, the lame walked, and the deaf could hear – and still they sat on the fence.  Still they did not believe.

“To what shall I compare this generation?”  Perhaps it seems shocking to us that so many people in Jesus’ time were fence sitters, watching John and watching Jesus, and yet remaining unmoved by what they saw.  Here is the prophet Elijah who has come again; here is the Son of God, the Messiah, the Savior of the world standing right here.  And yet they ask, “Are you the one who is to come?”  Jesus cries, “Let anyone with ears listen!” (11:15).  Listen and you will hear the truth.  Open your eyes and you will see the truth.  And yet, the people – and especially the leaders – continued to sit on the fence.

 “To what shall I compare this generation?” Jesus’ question back then is still relevant today.  We are also a generation of fence sitters.  We are not very good at dancing when the flute is played; we’d rather not mourn when we see others wailing.  We worry about what others will think if we are seen dancing for joy; we don’t think we can bear the weight of grief of another – our own burdens are already heavy enough.  We’ve grown up believing in another expression: “Everything in moderation.”  Dancing for joy and wailing with others is anything but moderation.

Let me speak to two places where so many of us are fence sitters, places where we practice moderation when God would have us be more like Jesus or John.  First, and perhaps surprisingly, we are often fence sitters in our worship of God.  Here we are, gathered together to worship the Creator of the universe – the One who placed every star in the sky and knows every hair on our head.  We are worshipping the God of Abraham, who loved the world so much that He sent his Son into the world to live among us.  We are worshipping the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who loves each one of us so much that he bore the humiliation and shame of death on a cross so that we might be set free.  We are worshipping God, the Holy Spirit, who swept over the waters at creation and blows through the church today, giving us life and empowering us to transform the world.  We are worshipping this amazing and awesome God who has already reconciled the world to himself.  And yet, there is a hesitancy, a moderation in our worship.

We are hesitant in our singing – afraid to sing out, perhaps because we’ll hit the wrong note.  Our posture in worship often looks more resigned than joyful, we slouch before our King instead of raising our hands in praise.  Our prayers are often half-hearted – we confess our sins but we don’t really hear the words we are praying, and we pray the Our Father but we don’t really think about what “thy kingdom come on earth” means.  We are distracted as we hear the Word of God read and proclaimed by grocery lists and afternoon picnic plans.  Sure, there are moments – moments when we hear the flute playing and we dance.  But too often our praise and worship fails to engage every fiber of our being.  We watch worship from the fence instead of giving our hearts and minds and souls and bodies to our worship of the living God.

Now, in our defense, let me say that some of this is because we’ve been taught to sit quietly in church.  We’ve been told not to clap our hands or stamp our feet in worship, even though the psalms are full of calls to praise the Lord with our entire being.  We don’t think we should respond to the preacher during the sermon, even with an “Amen.”  And yet Jesus was almost driven off a cliff by his first congregation.  We’ve seen baptisms with three drops of water and received tiny fragments of bread at the Lord’s Table – and consequently have failed to fully experience the incredible abundance of our God.  Our fence sitting is a learned response from years – generations! – of worship.  And changing habits is far from easy.

Secondly, we are fence sitters in our service to the world.  Again, I believe this is a learned response.  The church has taught us to send money to meet the needs of others both nearby and around the world.  The church has sent us on week-long mission trips – wonderful and rich experiences where we have briefly touched the lives of others.  The church has sent missionaries out into the world, special people who are called to proclaim the gospel in foreign lands.  In all of these ways we have seen the suffering of others, but we have not really had to become engaged in that suffering.  We have seen others wailing, and our hearts have been deeply touched, but we have not been asked to take the time to sit down and mourn with them.

I do blame much of this on the institution of the church and not on the people in the church.  In seeking to help others, especially the poor around the world, the church has said and continues to say, “Please send money.”  In seeking to proclaim the gospel to people who do not know Jesus, the church has trained specialists whom we support with money and prayers, instead of calling each one of us to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ in our own communities here and now.  Our fence sitting is a learned response, and changing habits is far from easy.

Friends, today I want to invite each one of us, myself included, to get down off that fence.  Jesus came eating and drinking with everyone he met.  Jesus lived life to its fullest, embracing every opportunity to proclaim the good news of the kingdom.  Jesus’ inclusivity was shocking, even eating with the worst sinners!  On the other hand, John came neither eating nor drinking, calling people to repent and be saved.  He was as extreme in his proclamation as Jesus was, trying to get people’s attention.  As children of God, we are called to dance when we hear the flute and to mourn when we hear others wailing.    We are called to give ourselves fully to the worship of God, both here in our communal worship, and in our private and family prayers and devotions.  And then we are called to go out into the world to give ourselves for others, certainly with our money, but also with our time and our talents.  We are called to visit those in prison, feed the hungry, heal the sick, and sit with those who mourn.  And we can’t do any of this sitting on a fence.

Many years ago, as a child, I remember visiting Acapulco in Mexico.  One of Acapulco’s biggest attractions is the cliff divers.  I remember these cliff divers jumping from incredibly tall cliffs down into the waves of the Pacific Ocean and being absolutely terrified for them.  If they didn’t time their dive just right they might hit the rocks instead of the swelling waters.  Sometimes it looked like they dove off the cliffs exactly when the rocks were completely bare, trusting that another swell would come in before they reached the bottom of the cliff.  It was both terrifying and exciting to watch.

God is calling us to be cliff divers instead of fence sitters.  God longs for our worship to be bold and exciting.  Then, through our worship, God is equipping us for brave and terrifying service to others.  God wants us to live life to its fullest, in the full assurance that we do not do this alone.  As Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me... for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (11:29-30).  Loving God and loving one another is truly pure joy.  Sure, it is a yoke that invites us into the suffering of others – but it is a suffering that has been redeemed on the cross.  And certainly it is a yoke that demands obedience to God – but in that obedience we find grace and freedom and new life.  So let’s quit sitting on the fence watching the world go by; let’s fully embrace our worship of God and, in response, let’s give ourselves fully to our neighbors.  It is both as exciting and as terrifying as cliff diving, but we can trust that we’ll land in the water.  God will always be there for us, dancing in our joy and wailing in our grief.  Thanks be to God!