The Third Sunday in Lent - March 19

A Conversation

John 4:5-42

I have a set of books that are commentaries on different books of the Bible.  They are written by Biblical scholars, but specifically intended for preachers.  The one on John’s Gospel (Gerard Sloyan, Interpretation Commentary) says this about today’s Gospel reading about Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well:

Belief in Jesus by a religiously ostracized group is what the story is about.  Hence all moralizing about the woman’s irregular life or Jesus’ relations with women, interesting as they are, are not especially useful as an exposition of the text.  The story is about religious tensions and a church which, in its origins, sought to overcome them, even while the attempt itself caused new tensions.  John 4 should be preached in the spirit in which it was written.  If it is not, the Gospel is betrayed.

The Gospel story is about coming to faith and about reconciliation in the midst of religious tensions.  Jews and Samaritans had a common heritage but they had become estranged over religious practice.  The Samaritan women and other Samaritans came to faith in Jesus and the healing of a deep family feud over religion was begun.

But what actually happens in this morning’s long Gospel reading?  Jesus and the Samaritan woman have a conversation.  They have a conversation.

No demands are made.  No judgment is passed.

It’s a conversation.

When was the last time you had a meaningful, significant conversation?

Two things make this conversation meaningful and significant.  First, they both bring themselves to the conversation—both Jesus and the woman express some level of authenticity, need, vulnerability.  Both are thirsty, deeply yearning for refreshment.  And both need help and express that need.  Second, they listen, acknowledging the personhood of the other.  So often we seem to have lost the ability to listen, to respect the words of others.  The woman in particular asks good questions, and listens, trying to understand the answers.

We need more of those sorts of conversations.  Certainly in our political lives right now.  The church can and should be the place to model these sorts of respectful, meaning, significant, conversations.  But we need them, too, in our personal relationships and, perhaps most to the point this morning, in our spiritual lives.

Karoline Lewis teaches preaching at the Lutheran Seminary in St. Paul.  She describes some of the qualities of what she calls “holy conversations” (Working Preacher, HERE).

1)   Mutual vulnerability.

2)   Second, questions are critical to conversation. Not questions that have already decided on the right answers. Not questions that are asked only to feign manners. No, questions that communicate curiosity, an interest in the other, a longing for information and understanding. The woman at the well is full of questions, thoughtful questions, questions that matter and lead Jesus to reveal to her who he really is. Jesus affirms questions, even invites them. God wants us to ask questions because it is questions that strengthen relationship.

3)   Holy conversations take time.  I couldn’t find the reference this week, but I read once that this is Jesus’ longest conversation with an individual that is recounted in Scripture.  Holy conversations cannot be rushed.

4)   In a holy conversation, we should expect to be surprised, to learn something we did not know before.  And we should expect to be changed, to grow.

So I encourage you:  have a conversation about faith with someone.  If we were to model Jesus’ practice in this morning’s Gospel, that conversation should be with a conservative born-again Christian or a strict Catholic, someone with whom we share a common heritage of faith but have become estranged over religious practice.  A holy, meaningful, conversation, though, does take mutuality.  And that can be a challenge, but don’t let that deter you (or serve as an excuse).

Consider a friend or family member.  Have a conversation about faith.

If you have a hard time thinking about getting started, I want to tell you about a neat organization—Story Corps.  Some of you are probably aware of it.  They record and preserve conversations and stories, meaningful and significant conversations and stories.  If you listen to NPR in the mornings you have heard some of the recorded conversations.

It began in 2003 with a recording booth in Grand Central Station.  There’s one now here in Chicago, too, at the Cultural Center downtown.  Here’s their mission statement (From their website, HERE).

StoryCorps’ mission is to preserve and share humanity’s stories in order to build connections between people and create a more just and compassionate world.  We do this to remind one another of our shared humanity, to strengthen and build the connections between people, to teach the value of listening, and to weave into the fabric of our culture the understanding that everyone’s story matters.

They don’t mention Jesus, but that’s a pretty Christian mission statement.

They talk about how they have found, over the years, that the key to great conversations is asking great questions.  So they have suggestions.  For conversations about family, school, relationships, war, or religion.

• Can you tell me about your religious beliefs/spiritual beliefs? What is your religion?
• Have you experienced any miracles?
• What was the most profound spiritual moment of your life?
• Do you believe in God?
• Do you believe in the after-life? What do you think it will be like?
• When you meet God, what do you want to say to Him?

Good questions are the beginning of holy, meaningful, significant conversations.  Meaningful, significant conversations are beginnings for much more.  The beginning or deepening of relationships.  The beginning of faith for the Samaritan woman.  The beginning of reconciliation amid religious tension and difference.

So give it a try!  Have a conversation about faith with someone.

First Sunday in Lent - March 5

Trusting God

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

Matthew 4:1-11

The season of Lent began a few days ago on Ash Wednesday.  Today is the first Sunday in Lent.  On this first Sunday in Lent the Gospel reading is always one of the accounts of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.

Matthew tells us that immediately following his baptism, Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness where he was tempted or tested by Satan.

We all know what temptation is.  We know what it feels like.  The internal tug or urge to do something that we know is not right.   It’s the voice or push inside of us to do something we know we shouldn’t.

In our daily lives, temptation is often associated with relatively innocuous things….  like dessert.  Although we can also face very significant temptations.

Was Jesus actually tempted?  We know Satan tried to tempt him.  But did he feel that internal tug of temptation?  He might have; he was fully human as we are, but we don’t know.  Many commentators have noted that what the devil offered certainly might have been tempting to Jesus.  But none of the Gospel accounts say that Jesus struggled or wrestled to overcome what the tempter offered…

What Jesus clearly did do was choose to trust the Word of God over the words of the devil.

Whether or not Jesus is overcoming temptation in this passage, he is clearly modeling trust.  For me, it’s helpful to think about this passage as being as much about trust as temptation.  It challenges us to ask:  which voice do you trust?  Who do you trust to really have your best interests at heart?  Do you trust God over the voices of the world and the devil?

Real trust has to be earned.  It’s important to differentiate between obedience and trust.  Obedience can be enforced “from above” by anyone with power.  The parent or boss can enforce obedience by saying:  Follow my orders or else there will be consequences…  no dessert for you…  no promotion or new opportunities for you…  It’s tempting sometimes to think of God in these terms, as one who enforces obedience.  But I think God is much more interested in earning our trust than in enforcing our obedience.

Trust, which is given, “from below” must be earned.  By the child, for example, with a loving parent who learns, over time, that the “rules” are always intended for the child’s wellbeing and that they may trust the parent’s love and care.  Or by our consistent experiences over time of God’s love and care that show us that God is trustworthy.

In this context, I feel for Adam and Eve.  I don’t take that story literally, but as it’s told they are brand new human beings, naïve and innocent, without any life experience.  One voice says to them: “Don’t eat of the tree because I say so.”  Another voice quite reasonably says: “the tree is good for food, a delight to the eyes, and it is desired to make one wise.”  Without any past experience to help them decide which voice to trust, it’s not surprising they made the wrong choice.

Trust is built, earned, given.

Was it easy for Jesus’ to trust God?  Probably not always, but he had the experience of his intimate relationship with the Father to anchor that trust. 

So I’m left with two questions or reflections for what this might mean for us.

First, do we give God a chance to earn our trust?  We have to listen to God’s Word, follow God’s guidance over some period of time before our experience will teach us that God is trustworthy.  We can’t just stand on the sidelines.   We have to participate in a relationship with God before God can earn our trust.  Do we give God that chance?

There’s a wonderful prayer in the Book of Common Prayer.  It’s titled “For young people,” but it’s appropriate for everyone.

God our Father, you see your children growing up in an unsteady and confusing world (that’s all of us!):  Show them that your ways give more life than the ways of the world, and that following you is better than chasing after selfish goals.

Lent is a time to intentionally draw closer to God’s ways…  a time to read and meditate on God’s Word….   a time to focus more clearly on following God guidance, rather than chasing after selfish goals.  Does your Lenten discipline draw you closer to God so that you may experience God’s love and deepen your trust in God’s care?  If the experiences of Lent do draw us closer to God we will grow in trust that his ways do, in fact, give more life than the ways of the world.

Second, do the actions of our lives show others that God is trustworthy?  Will other people see in us the positive fruits of a life lived trusting in God?  Each of us has the potential to help others come to a place in their lives of trust in God’s love and goodness.  We can be a part of other peoples’ experience that teaches them that God is trustworthy.

Ash Wednesday - March 1

Telling the Truth

The structure of this Ash Wednesday service is unique, but at a typical celebration of the Eucharist on Sunday morning right after the opening dialogue of greeting between the celebrant and people we pray a prayer called the collect for purity.

Almighty God to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid:  Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord.

We call it the collect for purity because the intercession, the primary prayer, the action we seek from God is cleansing.  Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts.  Purify us as we prepare to come before you in worship.

But I often get hung up a bit on the first part of the prayer, the introductory part. Almighty God to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.

There’s a lot there!  I suspect that if we really focus on this prayer we hope that God will purify us without anyone really having to look too closely or specifically at our hearts, desires or secrets.  Or we certainly hope that God will cleanse us without disclosing our secrets.  Most of the time, we prefer our hearts closed, our deep desires unknown to the broader world and we definitely like our secrets to remain hidden.

Our sincere prayer might be something more like:  Almighty God, cleanse us if you can, but please hide our insecurities, our mistakes, our shortcomings.  Hide anything about us that seems to make us “less,” in our own eyes or the eyes of the world.   Keep the secrets of our sins hidden.

In a recent reflection on Ash Wednesday in the Christian Century, Nurya Love Parish talks about the first Ash Wednesday service she ever attended.  She was in her twenties and describes herself at that time as a “spiritual tourist.”  She had grown up without any religious practice, but had become captivated by spiritual exploration. 

That exploration took her to a church in Boston on Ash Wednesday for a service using the traditional Christian liturgy for Ash Wednesday. 

I’ll never forget sitting in that old box pew, watching as people went up for the imposition of ashes.  I realized something:  this was a place where people told the truth.  The liturgy made them do it.  They told the truth about themselves—that they were mortal, that they were sinners, that they were scared.

I had been a lot of places in my first twentysome years of life.  I had never been anywhere quite as truthful as that Ash Wednesday liturgy.

The Ash Wednesday liturgy makes people tell the truth.  No secrets are hid.

We are mortal.  We are sinners.  And often we are scared.

Paradoxically, I think a big part of the appeal of this service, this Ash Wednesday liturgy is the power of its truth-telling.  The truth is laid bare.

Today, in these words, there is no wiggle room, no conditional mistakes or excuses.

You are dust.  Remember that you are dust.  And to dust you shall return.

We are sinners.  A little later in this service we will say the litany of penitence.  This is the only service in which we say this litany.  (We’re permitted to use it at other times, but choose not to.)  Listen to the words.  Listen to the litany of sins that we own.  These are our words.  Our truth.

Also in this liturgy, right after the imposition of ashes, we will say together Psalm 51.  I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.  We proclaim the truth.

We are mortal.  We are profound sinners.  Those are important truths that are spoken in this liturgy.  Yet our mortality and sinfulness are not the most important truth we say today.  We proclaim our dependence upon God.  Our dependence upon God.

Without God, we are nothing more than dust.  Without God, we are nothing but miserable sinners.

But with God…

With God, we are more.  By God’s grace, we are given new and contrite hearts, fullness of life and wholeness of soul, renewal and reconciliation that overcome death and estrangement.

Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, you desire not the death of sinner, but rather that we may turn from our wickedness and live…

The Ash Wednesday liturgy proclaims that truth as well.

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany - February 26

Down Here

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

For the last four weeks, the Gospel readings have come from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in chapter 5 of Matthew’s Gospel.  In Matthew, this is the beginning of Jesus’ teaching and ministry.  Today’s reading describing Jesus’ transfiguration comes from the 17^th chapter of Matthew.

We’ve jumped from chapter 5 to chapter 17 in Matthew’s Gospel.

In between chapters 5 and 17 Jesus has taught the disciples how to pray with the words of the Lord’s Prayer.  He healed a man of leprosy.  He healed the Roman centurion’s servant and Peter’s mother-in-law.  He stilled a storm on the sea of Galilee bringing safety and comfort to the disciples.  He had dinner with tax collectors and sinners.  He healed some more people.  He taught about the Good Shepherd and about how God’s people need the protection and guidance of a shepherd.  He shared parables about the nature of God’s kingdom.  He fed five thousand people.  He walked on water.  He healed a bunch more people.  And he fed four thousand people who found themselves hungry and in a lonely place.

Those are just the highlights; I skipped over a lot.  Now, in Matthew 17, Jesus is on the road towards Jerusalem.   Right after the transfiguration he foretells his death and resurrection.  Today’s collect sets this event “before Jesus’ passion.”  The end of Jesus’ earthly ministry is in sight.

But today the focus is on Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountaintop.  The author of the Second Letter of Peter (almost certainly not Peter) describes what it may have been like to be there, to be “eyewitnesses of his majesty,” to hear God’s voice speak, to see the glory of God shining in the face of Jesus. This is the ultimate epiphany, or more properly, theophany.  God revealing God’s glory and presence and majesty in a way that it can be seen and known.  On this last Sunday after the Epiphany we always hear one of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ transfiguration.

It must have been awesome.  To be there on the mountaintop.  To be an eyewitness to the bursting forth of God’s glory.  Sometimes I think:  if only I could have been there. My experiences of God’s presence would probably be described as only low  “hilltop” experiences at best.  But, if I had been there, then surely my faith would be totally secure.  With no doubts or uncertainties.  With a strong and clear vision of God’s presence.

But, it’s a funny thing, being there didn’t seem to really help Peter, John and James’ faith very much.  There isn’t any evidence that their faith was strengthened or improved after witnessing the transfiguration.  Soon after, James and John are bickering and seeking honor over the other disciples.  Hardly Kingdom stuff.  And it won’t be very long until Peter denies even knowing Jesus…

If you are feeling wistful about missing the transfiguration, remember also:  75% of Jesus’ 12 disciples weren’t there.  There’s room for some fun midrash there!  (Why just the three?  Did they need remedial work?  Were the others busy with something important?)  And if you think of all of Jesus’ disciples, all of the people following him at this point in his ministry…  we don’t have exact numbers to do the math, but we can speculate that 99% were not there on the mountaintop.

And, of course, even Peter, James and John came down from the mountaintop.  The experience passed.  They came back down to the dusty road to Jerusalem. 

And it’s a good thing because:

It’s this life down here that Jesus’ blesses!  Jesus’ teaching and healing and blessing and sharing peace and feeding—both literally and soul-feeding.  None of that happened on the mountaintop.  It happened down here.  In this life.

So don’t worry so much if you haven’t been to the mountaintop.  Don’t spend time thinking wistfully, “if only…”  All of those things Jesus did in between the Sermon on the Mount and the transfiguration.  All of the people he met and helped.  He was with them.  He brought the glory of God and the love of God to all of those people in all of those circumstances in the midst of their non-mountaintop daily lives.

Look for Jesus in the hospital room, at the dinner table, as companion in the lonely hours of the night, sharing the joy and celebration of the wedding feast, offering protection and guidance in times of uncertainty or anxiety.  Look for him in the people around you.  Look for him here.

He’s here.  With us down here.  To feed and heal and comfort and guide.  To bring God’s presence and glory to us HERE.

The Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany - February 19

As

Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18

Matthew 5:38-48

In the Gospel reading, we are still in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  For the last four weeks the readings have been continuous.  The verses appointed for today from Matthew follow immediately after the verses we heard last week.

This portion of the Sermon on the Mount is sometimes called the Six Antitheses.  Six times Jesus says, you have heard it said in the past, but now I say to you.   On the one had is the past teaching.  On the other hand, the antithesis, Jesus’ new teaching that contrasts with the past.  Last week we heard the first four antitheses; this week the final two.

In today’s passage, Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you…” turn the other cheek…  if someone sues you for your coat, give him also your cloak…

The principal of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth is often called by its Latin name, lex talionis.  It codifies the law of retaliation.  Believe it or not lex talionis was initially a progressive step forward, because it limited retaliation to what was fair or equitable.  If someone took one eye from you, you were not entitled to take two eyes from him in retaliation.  And once retaliation had been extracted, the dispute was over.  Acts of retaliation were embodied in both the Jewish and Roman law of Jesus’ day.

But Jesus says, retaliation is not the way.  Even “fair” retaliation is not the way.  Your relationships with one another should be governed by compassion and generosity, even in the face of injury or offence.

In today’s reading, Jesus also says:  “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…”

The reference about loving your neighbors is from the passage in Leviticus we heard this morning. You shall not hate in your heart anyone of your kin….  you shall love your neighbor as yourself.

In Leviticus, “neighbor” means fellow Israelite.   Scholars point out that this passage in Leviticus does not command hatred of the enemy.  In fact, it urges compassion for the “alien” in your midst.  Other passages in the Old Testament, however, do seem to permit or encourage hatred of the enemies of Israel.

But Jesus says, love your enemies.  Love means to act for the good of others.  Not only are Jesus’ disciples not to hate their enemies, they are charged to actively love them.  To act with love and compassion for the good of others, even their enemies.

These sayings of Jesus are hard.  It’s hard to think that we could even begin to live up to them.  There is a tendency to just give up.

For me very helpful to think about the “why.”  Why does Jesus offer these teachings?  Why might we be motivated to try to follow them?

First, what is Jesus not saying?  These are not entrance requirements to become a disciple.  These are not difficult tasks that must be fulfilled before someone can be admitted as a disciple.  This is not like rush week to become a disciple. 

Nor are these actions ways to receive a heavenly reward, to earn Jesus’ favor. 

It’s an invitation.  It may not sound like an invitation, but it is.  An invitation to join Jesus in doing God’s work.

For me, the most important word in this passage is “as.”  That little word “as.”  In comes in the last sentence:  Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.  On first hearing there is certainly the tendency to go right to that word “perfect.”  Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect.  Which just leads to further despair at the impossibility of accomplishing that.  But don’t focus on the word “perfect.”   In the parallel passage in Luke, Jesus says, “merciful” not “perfect. “  Furthermore, the Greek word Matthew uses doesn’t really mean perfect in the way we usually use the word.  It means more “attaining the goal which is your purpose.”  Accomplishing that for which God intended you.

So back to the word “as.”  The word “as” is the key to this for me.

“As” you may know, the usage of “as” is complicated in English, but here it simply means “a comparison in the way things are done…”  A comparison in the way things are done.

Do things as your heavenly Father does things.  Do things in the way God does things.  Disciples do things in the way God does things.  As best they can.  As best we can.

One commentator has said that this passage is not about following God’s will; it’s about imitating God’s nature.  It’s not a command or a requirement.  It’s a description of God’s way, God’s way of doing things, and an invitation to do things in the same way.

God certainly does things differently than the world does.  Jesus is making that very clear. 

God’s way is compassion, not retribution.  And God looks on everyone, even our enemies, with eyes of love.  We are invited to look at our enemies with God’s eyes.

It’s easier to imitate God’s way of doing things if we are close to God.  It’s more natural, even joyful, for us to act with compassion and love towards others if we have known and experienced God’s love and compassion ourselves.  So the place to start is for us to seek closeness with God through worship, personal prayer, and the reading of Scripture.  The closer we are to God, the more easily and joyfully we can share God’s nature with others.

We cannot be God.  We cannot always act as God would act.  We won’t always get it right, but we can try.  From time to time, here and there, we can be agents of God’s compassion and love.  We can share God’s nature with others and bring God’s blessing to them.

The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany - February 12

You Have Heard it Said, But...
Matthew 5:21-37

You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, BUT...

Jesus says this quite a few times in today’s Gospel. You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, BUT...

You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, BUT today I’m going to tell you something very new and different.

Jesus is talking about Scripture, about the Torah.  He’s talking about interpreting the meaning of the words of Scripture.  We are still in the Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus is teaching his followers the fundamentals of being his disciples.

And one of the practices that will characterize their life together is interpreting, re-imagining the meaning of Scripture.  One of the practices that Jesus will undertake with his disciples is seeking new meaning in old texts.

Jesus’ words are both groundbreaking and very, very traditional.  The particular interpretations of the Law of Moses, the Ten Commandments, that Jesus proposes are certainly new.  But in the process of reinterpreting the meaning of Scripture, he follows in a LONG tradition of rabbinic practice.

For us as Christians, Jesus’ particular interpretation is important, of course.  And this passage is difficult.  That’s important work, but it’s a sermon for another day.

Today I want to focus on the fact that Jesus is also saying to his disciples:  We are people who continue in this tradition of interpretation.  By his words and actions Jesus affirms the important practice of reinterpreting Scripture. 

As some of you know, this is midrash.  The rabbinic practice of midrash is the reinterpretation of the words of Scripture, particularly the Torah.  It has been a part of Jewish life for centuries and continues into modern times.  It’s a creative process, rich in embellishments of the words of Scripture.

It’s very important to remember that this process of creative interpretation begins from a point of deep, profound reverence for the Scriptures.  The rabbis who create the midrash are steeped in and love the ancient words of Scripture.

In last week’s Gospel reading Jesus said: For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished (Matthew 5:18).  Not one stroke of a letter of the Torah will pass away.

Writing about this verse, one scholar says:

[This verse] appears to many commentators as so conservative that they have difficulty attributing it to Jesus….  There is, however, little difficulty in ascribing the statement to Jesus once we recognize that it expresses the universal view of first-century Jews.  A “high” view of the inspiration of Scripture was held by all, since God was seen as the ultimate author.  The Sadducees, the Pharisees, the Essenes, and other sects, including the Jesus movement, disagreed vigorously about how various passages should be interpreted and applied, but there was no disagreement at the theoretical level.  The shared assumption of the rabbis and the authors of the New Testament is that “Scripture cannot be set aside” (John 10:36, NEB), because “all scripture is inspired by God” (II Timothy 3:16).  This theoretical “fundamentalism” did not inhibit innovations in interpretation that in fact departed radically from the strict letter of the law.  Many of the prescriptions of the Mosaic code had become dead letters by the first century, including the majority of death penalty rules (Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation Commentary).

A deep, fundamental reverence for God as the ultimate author of Scripture leading to radically innovative interpretations of Scripture’s meaning.  This is midrash.

A little more about midrash, for those of us less familiar with the tradition.  From an introduction to midrash:

In the Bible, [the Hebrew word that is the root of Midrash] is used to mean inquiring into any matter, including occasionally to seek out God’s word. Midrash responds to contemporary problems and crafts new stories, making connections between new Jewish realities and the unchanging biblical text.

The type of midrash most commonly referred to (as in, “There is a midrash which says…”) is from the collections of midrash aggadah….  Midrash aggadah may begin its exploration with any word or verse in the Bible. There are many different methods of interpretation and exposition.  Written by rabbis both steeped in Bible and absorbed by the Jewish questions of their time, works of midrash aggadah often occupy the meeting ground between reverence and love for the wording of the fixed text of the Torah, and theological creativity (From My Jewish Learning).

Some of the midrashim are very creative. 

Rabbi Iscah Waldman, teaching about midrash (HERE), uses the example of Cain and Abel.  Why did Cain kill his brother Abel?  Scripture doesn’t tell us.

Perhaps, one midrash says, they argued over clothing.  Cain wanted what Abel had.  The murder was motivated by greed.  Or perhaps, another midrash says, each brother was born with a female twin.  Women don’t get much press in the Bible, so we don’t know about these women.  But maybe covetousness or sexual rivalry led to fratricide.

But, which story is more correct?  Which of these midrashim is the right interpretation of what happened?

Both. Midrash is a literature that allows for multiple interpretations. It is a kind of poetry that demands that we explore every shade of God’s intended meaning. While one might argue, logically, that the first midrash did not agree with the second … that is the very point!

The goal of the rabbis was, precisely, in the exercise of “drashing”, seeking and finding meaning in, the text, to come up with their own interpretations. Each one adds something new to the mix, bringing out small details that [bring theological insight to] the basic questions of human nature.  

It seems to me that Jesus’ hyperbole in today’s Gospel…  Jesus’ highly exaggerated statements about the consequences for failing to follow even the smallest intent of the law…   or the instruction to pluck out an eye or cut off a hand if it causes you to sin…  Jesus’ hyperbolic language fits into this poetic, creative exploration of the meaning of Scripture that characterizes midrash.

Midrash is the meeting point of tradition and change.  It is the process of connecting the Scriptures to contemporary life and issues.

And Jesus teaches his disciples that midrash is good.

Today we might learn from the ancient rabbis both their deep reverence for Scripture and the free-wheeling eagerness and creativity with which they explore new meanings for these ancient texts.

In Jewish tradition, one depiction has particular verses of the Torah cry out, “darsheni” – “interpret me.” The ancient rabbis were only too happy to oblige (Rabbi Waldman).

We should be, too.

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany - February 5

Pay Attention to the Prophets

Isaiah 58:1-9a

Matthew 5:13-20

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill,” Jesus said.  Interpreting the meaning of the second part of today’s Gospel reading is tricky.  It’s hard to know what Jesus’ meaning and intent are.  These verses are a bridge to next week’s reading where Jesus will talk more about the law.  

Like last week’s reading, this is still the Sermon on the Mount.  These are Jesus’ first public words in Matthew.  Jesus is teaching the disciples and laying the groundwork for the whole of his ministry.  Even if interpretation is difficult it seems safe to say that Jesus is teaching his followers to pay serious attention to the prophets, the Old Testament prophets.

Today the Old Testament reading comes from the prophet Isaiah.  The book of Isaiah, as it comes to us in Scripture provides a sweeping, beautiful and prophetic witness.  But changes in vocabulary and perspective within the book as a whole indicate at least three different sections with different authors and origins.  Today’s reading comes from what is often called “Third Isaiah.”

Third Isaiah appears to have been written a little later.  It is a collection of prophetic sayings from the time of the return when God’s people are beginning to return to Israel after the exile in Babylon.  It was a time of uncertainty but also hope.  The people are returning home, but the temple and the monarchy are gone.  The sources of their identity and stability as a people are gone.  Without the temple and the monarchy:  Who are we?  How do we worship?

Today’s reading is a three-way conversation.

It starts with God speaking to the prophet:  You have a job to do!  My people are in rebellion; they are not practicing righteousness.  They need a prophet’s voice.

Shout out, do not hold back!
   Lift up your voice like a trumpet!
Announce to my people their rebellion,
   to the house of Jacob their sins.
Yet day after day they seek me
   and delight to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness
   and did not forsake the ordinance of their God…

Then the people speak, demanding, almost whining to God:

‘Why do we fast, but you do not see?
   Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?’

We are practicing religion.  We are fasting like we are supposed to.  Why do you, God, seem not to notice or care?

Then the prophet, speaking for God, replies:

Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,
   and oppress all your workers.
Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
   and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today
   will not make your voice heard on high.

Look.  Look.  The prophet says.  This is a “prophetic device” used by the prophet to say:  when God looks at your behavior, this is what God does not like.  You say you're fulfilling religious rituals, but you use the fast to promote your own interests and to create quarrels.

As contemporary Episcopalians, we don’t do a lot of fasting.  We are encouraged to keep some sort of fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, but fasting is not a regular part of our religious practice.  I wonder if more meaningful parallel for us might be the creed.  If Isaiah were to speak to us today, maybe he would focus on creed.  We say the creed as a central part of our worship every Sunday.  And we see it, I expect, as a very important part of our religious practice.  I think its perceived importance is evident in the depth of struggle it generates for many people.  They really worry if they have trouble with some particular piece of the creed.  Or some people abandon faith and religion altogether because they cannot fully accept the creed.

It is our affirmation of belief.  Surely it puts us right with God.  To recite the creed must be pleasing to God.  Putting ourselves in today’s reading, we might say:  I say the creed.  I affirm my belief.  (And, depending on how you were raised you may bow at the name of Jesus and cross yourself at the end.)  God, I’m doing everything right, but you don’t seem to respond.

Other Christian denominations might have variations on that complaint.  The creed is important, of course, in many traditions, but a Presbyterian might add:  I have studied and accept the right theology as it is contained in the Westminster catechism.  I’m not sure exactly what a Lutheran might say except maybe:  Whatever Luther taught, I know that’s correct and I affirm it.  An evangelical, of course, would say:  I have accepted Jesus as my own Savior.  I believe that Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior.

We are affirming our belief, our faith!  What more do you want, O God?

Isaiah the prophet might say to us:  Your creeds and your catechisms.  Your affirmations of belief that you have created.  You use them to make yourselves feel righteous.  You use them for division and judgment among yourselves.

But are these protestations, these particularities of belief making your life more righteous, more godly?  Do you think your personal belief is really the only important thing?  How do you live?

It’s probably important to pause and note that “It is unlikely that the author of Isaiah 58 wishes to discredit completely the function of ritual exercises and cultic practices. They are necessary and deeply meaningful practices. But they always have the potential to become selfish…”  (Tyler Mayfield, Working Preacher, HERE)

The prophet is not trying to discredit or eliminate the practice of fasting.  And, please, please understand that I am not wanting to diminish or chuck out the creeds. 

But if rituals and religious practice are not forming us for faithful living, we’re missing the point.  If our religious practices and words are not forming us to practice righteousness in our lives, then we are missing the point.

If salt has lost its taste, Jesus says…  If salt has lost its function in the world, it is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

God’s voice, through Isaiah, continues:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
   to loose the bonds of injustice,
   to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
   and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
   and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
   and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
   and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
   the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
   you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

This prophetic call to righteous living on behalf of the poor, the oppressed and the outcast is not unique to Isaiah.  This is God’s voice throughout the prophets of the Old Testament.  And Jesus instructs us to pay attention to the prophets.