Sunday, 28 November 2010

Parable of the Trees - Judges 9:8-15

We come to look at a parable, the parable of the trees. Most likely, when we talk about parables, our thoughts immediately go to the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the yeast, the pearl, the sower etc. etc. – all those stories that Jesus told that provide so much of how we understand our faith. And, of course, that’s what parables do – they enrich our understanding. They help ius to translate the great concepts of faith into practical action. One very brief definition that may help is to describe a parable as “an earthly story that speaks beyond itself.”

Many would say that Jesus’ parables are unique, and I am inclined to agree. There is certainly something very special about them. However, that does not mean that this particular mode of communication is not used elsewhere. There are a number of parables scattered through the Old Testament and, though Judges is perhaps not the first place we would look, here is one.
But let’s first, as we so often helpfully do with the parables of Jesus, set the context. The nation of Israel had spent forty years wandering through the wilderness, after fleeing from the oppressive Egyptian regime. Finally Joshua had led them into the promised land – and the book of Judges gives us some of the story of what happened in that early period in the land of Canaan before the establishment of the monarchy. The stories of this particular Old Testament book describe the exploits of a succession of national heroes who were called ‘judges’. The title does not really refer to a judge in the legal kind of context that we might expect and, actually and ironically, this was a fairly lawless period. In fact, to a large extent, these were military leaders. Interestingly, women could gain prominence at that time, as Deborah is one of these judges. She appears fairly early in the book – chapters 4 and 5. Another prominent – and colourful – character is Samson – in chapters 13, 14 and 15.

One of the most famous is Gideon – and his story is told in chapters 6, 7 and 8. On the whole Gideon has quite a good reputation for his faith in God, but what is less known and recognised is what happened at the end of his life. The people tried to make Gideon their king, but he refused. But what he did do was allow them to make a massive idol which became a focal point of worship and, after his death, the people further developed the worship of idols.

Gideon had seventy sons, one of whom was Abimelech. His mother was one of Gideon’s concubines, and she was from Shechem. After Gideon’s death Abimelech and his mother went to Shechem and conspired with the people there to have Abimelech declared as king. After all, he was one of them – and that was achieved by the killing of all his brothers – except that one, the youngest, managed to escape.

When Jotham heard what had happened as the follow-up to the mass murder, namely that Abimelech had been made king, he went to a prominent location, Mouth Gerizim, and told this parable. This is a significant location for this action. Deuteronomy 27 records the command of Moses that, when the people have entered the Promised Land, some are to climb Mount Gerizim from where blessings for obedience are to be pronounced. Others are to climb Mount Ebal – and from there curses on disobedience will be pronounced. In many ways Jotham’s story stands in the classic prophetic tradition of condemning the people’s unfaithfulness. But he chooses Gerizim, not Ebal.

Perhaps the location is designed to emphasise that Jotham is leaving the judgment of the people’s actions to God. That fits, I think, with the ethos of the book. E. John Hamlin, in the introduction to his commentary on Judges, suggests; “The Promised Land in Judges is neither heaven nor haven. It is the God-given arena where the gifts of freedom and security are constantly threatened both from without and from within and are preserved or lost by real people. God is seen to be present behind the scenes as Judge and Saviour.”

The parable, like all good parables, is a fairly simple story though is at variance from most parables in that it features talking trees. This, then, is not something that would actually have happened – but there is no great difficulty in exploring the lessons of the story. In short, the trees are looking for a king. They approach three fruit-bearing trees, the olive tree, the fig tree and the vine. They ask each of them, in turn, to become king. These are surely the trees with the best qualifications. They each make significant contribution to the enjoyment on life. Their credentials are thus impeccable. But they each feel that what they are doing at the moment is enough, and more than that even, it is the right thing. What leave my rich oil by which gods and men are honoured, to go and hold sway over the trees? .... What, leave my good fruit and all its sweetness, to go and hold sway over the trees? .... What, leave my new wine which gladdens gods and men, to go and hold sway over the trees?

And so the trees need to look elsewhere – and they do. They look to the thorn bush. It is clear that the thorn bush would not have been considered if the others had not refused first. The thorn bush is surprised at the approach. It surely knows both that it is unsuitable and that it is the last resort. But it also sees an opportunity. If you really mean to anoint me as your king, then come under the protection of my shadow; if not, fire will come out of the thorn and burn up the cedars of Lebanon. Here effectively the thorn bush boasts of what it cannot offer. It has no fruit to contribute to life – and getting in its shade is not likely to be a pleasant business. You really need to prostrate yourself on the ground to get low enough and shade comes at the price of getting scratched. There is also a threat. The thorn bush burns easily. If it needs to destroy to keep its place, then it will. The moral, as one commentary suggests, is that: “foolish and wicked people will boldly usurp positions of power and influence that wise and good people tend to avoid.”

There are perhaps three things to draw from the story.

Abimelech, the thorn bush in the parable, was the wrong person to be king. Corruption destroys what’s good. In choosing the thorn bush, the other trees were setting themselves up to be destroyed.

Secondly, the men of Shechem didn’t act in good faith and honour. Rather they were out for themselves. They acted out of clan pride, very much ignoring what God had done through Gideon.

The result of their desertion of the covenant was the initiating of a cycle of destruction.
But the more important question for us is what does this mean for us?

I am grateful to Stephen Cottrell for pointing me in the direction of this parable which he quotes at the beginning of his little book “Hit the ground kneeling”. At the end of the book he revisits the parable – and asks some questions.

What does it mean? What does it tell you about the vocation to lead and the inter-relatedness of different gifts and callings? What upside-down wisdom does it point to? How does it help shape your vocation to lead?

Friday, 6 August 2010

Needing Change - Isaiah 1:10-20

Jerusalem, your rulers and your people are like Sodom and Gomorrah. So reads Isaiah 1, verse 10. I can’t imagine you being too impressed or enthused if I were to begin this post in a similar vein – Readers, your rulers and your people are like Sodom and Gomorrah.

The problem, of course, is in what Sodom and Gomorrah stand for. To use the Biblical word, they stand for sin – for wrong, for bad, for evil. It is certainly an attention-grabbing headline. And I think that is why the prophet uses it. Of course, there are things wrong in what the people do, how they behave. That is true for all of us. But, of course, it is not the whole of the story that the prophet tells. He grabs the people’s attention in this way. But he then goes on to challenge them about how they are living. And, yes, he does say some more about what they are doing that they shouldn’t. But he also offers them some very positive encouragement.

Indeed, he immediately goes on to say: Listen to what the Lord is saying to you. Pay attention to what our God is teaching you. And whether we need the blunt challenge of the initial words of this passage or not, we certainly need the encouraging challenge that comes here. I fear that too often we are too noisy and too busy to hear what God is saying to us. And yet that we should listen to God is a recurrent Biblical theme.

The Bible is packed with stories of how people needed to listen to God and what happened when they did. If we just restrict ourselves to mentioning some of those where this is most explicitly stated, we might mention, for example, the story of Samuel’s call. Samuel, asleep at night, keeps hearing this voice and running off to the old priest, Eli, thinking he is the one who is calling him – until, eventually, Eli realises what is going on and tells Samuel that, if it happens again, he should answer: Speak, Lord, your servant is lisrening. Take another example. What is it that Jesus says at the end of the parable of the sower? Listen, then, if you have ears! And one more example. When John records the messages to the seven churches of the province of Asia in chapters 2 and 3 of Revelation, at the end of each of these individual messages comes the exhortation: If you have ears, then, listen to what the Spirit says to the churches!

Listening isn’t always easy. But how important it is that we listen for what God is saying to us. We need also to listen to each other, and we don’t always do that, but we certainly need to listen to God.

But let me link this in to our passage from Isaiah. We have considered how the passage exhorts us to listen for what God is saying. It goes on, in verses 11 to 15, to condemn what might be described as the sham worship of the people. This is very similar to some comments that Amos makes in a passage that, I think, is much better known. Amos 5, verses 21 to 23 – The Lord says, “I hate your religious festivals; I cannot stand them! When you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; I will not accept the animals you have fattened to bring me as offerings. Stop your noisy songs; I do not want to listen to your harps.

Now, at first sight, whether we take the Amos version or the Isaiah version, this all seems rather strange. Why is God offering this response? Surely God should love our religious festivals, not hate them. And, of course, God does – providing they are not hiding stuff. The problem that both these prophets were facing is that the people were coming along and, on the face of it, doing the right thing in church, or the temple, as it was in their case. But their worship was not reflective of the rest of their lives. As Isaisah puts it, in verse 15, God won’t listen to their prayers because their hands are covered with blood. That’s why he addresses them as Sodom and Gomorrah to begin with. It’s a strong condemnation. “It is difficult to imagine a more massive rejection of God’s people on God’s part than this.”[1] The prophet asserts that God is finished with the people and their activities in the temple.

Only that’s not the end of the story. And this is where Gospel comes in, and we are back to talking about something that is a recurrent theme in the Bible. There is always hope. God is God of hope. Noah faced utter devastation, but there was a way through. The accusers of the woman caught in adultery all gradually realised that they couldn’t be the ones to condemn – and Jesus didn’t condemn her either..

The possibility of transformation and how it might happen is outlined in verse 17 – Learn to do right. See that justice is done – help those who are oppressed, give orphans their rights and defend widows. Amos declares the same transforming possibility – Instead, let justice flow like a stream, and righteousness like a river that never goes dry. A restored relationship with God requires a change of action, but it is all very possible.

Isaiah uses a powerful colour contrast to emphasise this possibility – The Lord says, “Now let’s settle the matter. You are stained red with sin, but I will wash you as clean as snow. Although your stains are deep red, you will be as white as wool. In a sense, this is the summary. What is going to happen? Change is needed. Change is possible. But it doesn’t happen without some commitment and some effort. God has taken the initiative. We can’t work the transformation. We need God for thar. But it’s there for the taking. God invites us, as he has always invited his people, to receive the blessings of that new thing which the needed change will bring. But it’s not dumped on us. We need to be ready and willing to receive it.

[1] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 1 - 39, Westminster John Knox Press, 1998, p. 18.

Tuesday, 8 June 2010

Acts 6:1-7

Lesslie Newbigin once said: “The nature of the Church is never to be finally defined in static terms, but only in terms of that to which it is going.” In other words we, in the Church, should not be standing still. We need to be on the move. We need to be tackling the next thing. That may seem daunting and, actually, it is. But God is not in the business of putting obstacles in our way. And God doesn’t call us to do things that are too much for us. Well, actually, possibly he does but, if so, he gives us the resources we need to do that to which we are called. Let’s put it another way. We often talk of our faith as a journey – and that’s a good image. If we’re on a journey, we’re on the move. We might be going slowly. We might be going at high speed. There is a whole range of forms of transport that we might be using. There are lots of signposts and refreshment stops on the way. But the journey is constantly moving us on.

Let’s take a look at this from a New Testament perspective. I often think it would be fascinating to be part of the early church with all the excitement and enthusiasm of those days of launching the gospel mesage in so many places and so many ways – and I am sure it would. But it is also possible to have an idealised picture of the early church and to think that all was always well – when actually the New Testament evidence is that there were plenty of problems and disagreements even in those early days of the church. A good chunk of the New Testament’s letters is directed to addressing those situations where things were not quite as they ought to be.

At the beginning of Acts 6 we read of what was probably one of the first instances of church conflict. If we have been following the story of the early church as it appears in Acts everything, so far, has been going pretty well. There have been one or two problems, but they are not internal ones. After the event of Pentecost and the sermon preached by Peter in Acts 2, we have, in Acts 3, the story of the lame man being healed, and that’s followed by another sermon from Peter. In Acts 4 Peter and John are arrested and brought before the Council – but they seem to be quite able to defend themselves and are set free. In Acts 5 we have the Ananias and Sapphira story – not good news for this couple who misled the church, but something that is quickly moved on from. And all seems to be going very well. Acts 5:12 – Many miracles and wonders were being performed among the people by the apostles. In the latter part of Acts 5 they are arrested again, and set free again – and seem to be simply using these occasions as opportunities for proclaiming the gospel.

But then, at the beginning of chapter 6, we come to the moment when things start to go wrong. Well, actually, perhaps it is not entirely fair to put it like that. We come to the point where a particular issue comes to the fore that needs to be addressed.

One interesting thing is that we don’t know when this was. We don’t know how quickly the church got to this point because we are not given a timescale for these events in the early chapters of Acts. However, it seems reasonable to assume that this all happened quite quickly and that we are still in the first year of the church’s life post-Pentecost.

So what happened? Well, we are told that there was a quarrel, a dispute. We’re told that it was between the Greek-speakers, or Hellenists, and the Hebrew speakers. And we are told that it was about suppport for the widows which, given the structures and practices of society at that time, is something that would have a big impact on the lives of those involved.

Now I want to suggest that the key thing here is not that there was a dispute, though that does happen to be part of this story – but that there was a problem that needed to be addressed. That problem, like most problems, had a range of aspects – and there are two things, in particular, that we need to note about it. One is the presenting problem which is that some widows weren’t being properly looked after.

But the other aspect is the need to discover what lay behind the presenting problem. Presenting problems, the things on the surface, are always important and need to be addressed. However, we often do a much bigger and better thing if we look at what has caused them – because if we get to underlying roots we may well prevent other, and new, presenting problems from emerging. Whether that would have happened in this case we don’t know, because the story doesn’t go in that direction.

What we do know is that the apostles, the twelve, were very ready to listen to what the people had to say. They were ready to say that there was a problem, even though that meant accepting that they had got things wrong. And they looked for a remedy.

Now there are some intersting things about this remedy. The actual remedy, of course, was that they found seven people to be put in charge of this matter. One of the interesting things is that they looked for a different solution. They could see that they needed to do something new in order to address this situation. Another thing is that they were willing to share their power and responsibility. They didn’t just carve things up among themselves, so that one of them took this on. They recognised that they needed to do it a different way, and that they needed additional help. Another thing is that there is a clear recognition here that different types of service are needed and to be valued. And, of course, one of the fundamental things in this story is the readiness to give everyone a voice.

Just to dip deeper into the story, without looking so specifically at its lessons for a moment, it is fascinating to note what it suggests. There are clear indications in Acts of the rapid growth of the early church. Indeed, verse 7 says the number of disciples in Jerusalem grew larger and larger. It seems pretty clear that the church was already reaching out in a range of ways. The church had started within the Jewish context, but now it is beginning to reach different groups. These Greek-speakers were Jews, but why are they so identified? Why are they contrasted with the Hebrew-speaking Jews? Well, Greek was the international language of the day. If you had been, and lived, away from Jerusalem and Israel, you may well have Greek as your first language. Also, if that were so, you would probably be coming from a different cultural context. This little incident is an indication that Christianity was moving into different groups. At this point, too, the believers would be largely meeting in homes. No doubt there was a bit of mixing up in that, but one can imagine that a house church was largely composed of a group that came from one particular background. One suggestion is that there were seven Hellenist house churches in Jerusalem at this point and the seven chosen helpers were the leaders of these. If so, this was certainly a good way of engaging these key people in the overall leadership of the church in Jerusalem.

But here is a story in which the church leaders gathered the whole congregation together in order to explore a particular issue. It is a story in which the church leadership recognised that it is important to hear what everyone had to say. It is a story which looks for justice. Mission and justice are closely linked. It is a story in which it is recognised that different people make different contributions, and we need that and they are all valuable. It is a story in which they looked for a new and different solution.

But there is, at least, one more thing I want to say.

This is also a story which is just a step on the way. Moving on from here, things would change again, and again, and again. And, of course, that happens quite quickly. Look, one more time, at the story. If we look at what happened we can see that the twelve were quite clear that the responsibility of these seven was handling the finances. This was so they wouldn’t need to, but they, on the other hand, would devote themselves to prayer and preaching. But then, look at the list of seven names. First, on the list is Stephen and second on the list is Philip. And we have only got to move into chapter 7 to find Stephen, not handling finance, but preaching, and powerfully so. And later on, in chapter 8, who takes the gospel to Samaria? Philip. And who engages with the Ethiopian official? Philip.

Remember those words of Lesslie Newbigin – “The nature of the Church is never to be fully defined in static terms, but only in terms of that to which it is going.” Or, as one commentator on this passage puts it: “The story in Acts is that of a Spirit who is constantly calling the Church to a new obedience in such a way that, although we can learn from the obedience of times past, we cannot limit ourselves to it. What would have happened to the Church if Stephen and Philip had said, “No, our ministry has to do with (finances), and not with preaching.”