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.
Friday, 6 August 2010
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.”
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.”
Friday, 2 October 2009
Valuing Samaritans and Others - Luke 10:25-37
The Samaritan in Luke 10 is a man not valued or respected in his society. You will notice that the expert in the law couldn’t even bring himself to name the Samaritan as the one who had been a good neighbour. He takes the roundabout route of answering Jesus’ question on that matter by saying that it was the one who had mercy on him. The Samaritan was not valued – and yet he gave freely to a stranger.
It is actually interesting to note that this whole story was about people who would be looked down on by the man who asked the question. He was an expert in the law. That’s what we’re told about him. Now, I actually find it fascinating that Jesus, who usually tried to connect so well with people, answers this man’s question with a story about a bunch of characters who he would have had no time for. If we look carefully, there are six characters, or groups of characters, in the story. Three play active roles and three really are in the background. If ever we have acted this out in Junior Church, Sunday School or whatever, and probably many of us have, then we probably have started with the robbers attacking the man and have seen that as the most active bit. In terms of dramatic action that might be so. However, in terms of the story it’s not. That is just background, context. The three active characters are those who come across the wounded man, the priest, the Levite and the Samaritan. Now the point is that this man was an expert in the law. We’re not actually told that he was a Pharisee, though that was the role that the Pharisees usually adopted. Certainly, if he wasn’t, as an expert in the law, he would have been alongside them. The priest and the Levite were part of the religious set-up, and we might imagine that this expert in the law, Pharisee or not, would align himself with them also. The priest and the Levite were associated with the temple – and, in fact, the Pharisees were often in tension with the temple and its cult. They concentrated on a very careful interpretation of the law, the torah, and weren’t much interested in anything that wasn’t focussed there. They looked for such a high standard that no one else could really get alongside them.
And, of course, the Samaritan would be really beyond the pale. Apart from the problems caused by his ethnicity, he was, most likely, like the wounded man, a trader. After all, why else would either of them be travelling that road? And traders weren’t up to much either. They were notoriously dishonest – and their itinerant lifestyle made it virtually impossible for them to observe appropriate standards of purity and hygiene.
Innkeepers were another despised group. Their whole lives and livelihoods centred around places where transients could find accommodation. Remember that, in the context of the times, the only people who would stay at an inn would be those who had no family in the area and no social or economic claims on anyone’s hospitality. They were needed, but it was very much a last resort.
And that only leaves the robbers. Again it is interesting to dig just very slightly into the context. In first century Palestine these probably would not have been simple muggers or highwaymen, but rather some of the roving terrorists staging their own form of protest against various types of official and unofficial exploitation of the poor. Strangely, this may even have been the one group in the parable that some of Jesus’ audience might have had some sympathy with. Maybe some of them had even done this Robin Hood type thing – setting on wealthy travellers in order to do a bit of unofficial redistribution of wealth.
But, even if there were some sympathetic to the robbers, it certainly wouldn’t include the lawyer who, doubtless, was a potential victim of such himself. So, in a sense, the story is not just about an unexpected neighbour – though that is a big element in it – but it is also about saying that everyone has a story, and that everyone has value.
It is actually interesting to note that this whole story was about people who would be looked down on by the man who asked the question. He was an expert in the law. That’s what we’re told about him. Now, I actually find it fascinating that Jesus, who usually tried to connect so well with people, answers this man’s question with a story about a bunch of characters who he would have had no time for. If we look carefully, there are six characters, or groups of characters, in the story. Three play active roles and three really are in the background. If ever we have acted this out in Junior Church, Sunday School or whatever, and probably many of us have, then we probably have started with the robbers attacking the man and have seen that as the most active bit. In terms of dramatic action that might be so. However, in terms of the story it’s not. That is just background, context. The three active characters are those who come across the wounded man, the priest, the Levite and the Samaritan. Now the point is that this man was an expert in the law. We’re not actually told that he was a Pharisee, though that was the role that the Pharisees usually adopted. Certainly, if he wasn’t, as an expert in the law, he would have been alongside them. The priest and the Levite were part of the religious set-up, and we might imagine that this expert in the law, Pharisee or not, would align himself with them also. The priest and the Levite were associated with the temple – and, in fact, the Pharisees were often in tension with the temple and its cult. They concentrated on a very careful interpretation of the law, the torah, and weren’t much interested in anything that wasn’t focussed there. They looked for such a high standard that no one else could really get alongside them.
And, of course, the Samaritan would be really beyond the pale. Apart from the problems caused by his ethnicity, he was, most likely, like the wounded man, a trader. After all, why else would either of them be travelling that road? And traders weren’t up to much either. They were notoriously dishonest – and their itinerant lifestyle made it virtually impossible for them to observe appropriate standards of purity and hygiene.
Innkeepers were another despised group. Their whole lives and livelihoods centred around places where transients could find accommodation. Remember that, in the context of the times, the only people who would stay at an inn would be those who had no family in the area and no social or economic claims on anyone’s hospitality. They were needed, but it was very much a last resort.
And that only leaves the robbers. Again it is interesting to dig just very slightly into the context. In first century Palestine these probably would not have been simple muggers or highwaymen, but rather some of the roving terrorists staging their own form of protest against various types of official and unofficial exploitation of the poor. Strangely, this may even have been the one group in the parable that some of Jesus’ audience might have had some sympathy with. Maybe some of them had even done this Robin Hood type thing – setting on wealthy travellers in order to do a bit of unofficial redistribution of wealth.
But, even if there were some sympathetic to the robbers, it certainly wouldn’t include the lawyer who, doubtless, was a potential victim of such himself. So, in a sense, the story is not just about an unexpected neighbour – though that is a big element in it – but it is also about saying that everyone has a story, and that everyone has value.
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Learning from Nehemiah
Nehemiah plays a key role in the return of the Israelites to Jerusalem after the exile. His particular pioneer project is the rebuilding of the city walls. It seems an impossible project, but Nehemiah is convinced that it is the task to which he is called. He is fortunate enough to have friends in high places and so he goes and gains permission from the king. He then encourages and challenges others to get on with the job. It is a big task and there clearly is careful planning, and also hard work. He divides those who are working with him into teams giving them specific chunks – and so divides the task down into smaller achievable tasks. He is pretty single-minded. He endures ridicule. And he achieves what he sets out to do.
Nehemiah was an inspiring leader and he got those engaged in the wall rebuilding project to achieve what many would have long given up as impossible. Raymond Brown (in “The Message of Nehemiah” BST) suggests nine features of the task undertaken by these builders:
- Their priority – they worked out what they were going to do first, and so on.
- Their unity – people from a wide variety of backgrounds worked on the wall.
- Their individuality – they worked together, but brought their differences to the project.
- Their disappointment – it didn’t always go well.
- Their commitment – there was a lot of sacrificial giving.
- Their enthusiasm – they didn’t just start this project, they kept at it.
- Their privilege – they didn’t regard it as a gruelling chore, but as a priceless opportunity.
- Their reward – they got there.
What are the questions that arise from the story of Nehemiah? Perhaps some of them are these:
- What is the real aim, the mission statement?
- What’s going to happen if/when it doesn’t go well?
- How is the project an opportunity?
- What’s the end aim?
- How does it bring a range of people on board?
Nehemiah was an inspiring leader and he got those engaged in the wall rebuilding project to achieve what many would have long given up as impossible. Raymond Brown (in “The Message of Nehemiah” BST) suggests nine features of the task undertaken by these builders:
- Their priority – they worked out what they were going to do first, and so on.
- Their unity – people from a wide variety of backgrounds worked on the wall.
- Their individuality – they worked together, but brought their differences to the project.
- Their disappointment – it didn’t always go well.
- Their commitment – there was a lot of sacrificial giving.
- Their enthusiasm – they didn’t just start this project, they kept at it.
- Their privilege – they didn’t regard it as a gruelling chore, but as a priceless opportunity.
- Their reward – they got there.
What are the questions that arise from the story of Nehemiah? Perhaps some of them are these:
- What is the real aim, the mission statement?
- What’s going to happen if/when it doesn’t go well?
- How is the project an opportunity?
- What’s the end aim?
- How does it bring a range of people on board?
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
The Prodigal's Elder Brother - Luke 15:22-32
We all like celebrations except, of course, for those times when we don’t – those times when we’re not in the mood, those times when we feel left out, those times when we’d rather be doing something else. That’s how it was for the elder brother in Jesus’ famous parable of the prodigal son.
That is especially so in verse 25 and verse 28: "In the meantime the elder son was out in the field. On his way back, when he came close to the house, he heard the music and dancing. .... The elder brother was so angry that he would not go into the house; so his father came out and begged him to come in."
The story is well known. It is one of the all-time favourite parables. It’s a vivid account of a wayward son. But I’m not going to explore the whole story – because my interest at the moment is simply in the reaction of the elder son.
His father was quite clear. This was party-time. It didn’t matter what the younger son had done. I am sure that the father no more wanted to commend that than did his big brother. This isn’t about saying to him: what you’ve done doesn’t really matter. This about saying: you’re back. This is the joy of reunion. This is the joy of having the family complete again. For the time being, what has happened is irrelevant. What matters is to celebrate the moment. The party must have been thrown together pretty quickly, but then I suppose that’s what happens in such a situation. It is simply not relevant to plan and to wait.
And so, by the time big brother gets home from the day’s work, ready to watch the television, or whatever the first century equivalent was, the thing is in full swing. What’s happening? A natural question. But when he gets the answer it doesn’t provoke in him the remotest desire to join in. He is furious. He wants none of it. All his years of hard work have gone without any such reward. But now his waster of a young brother is back and the red carpet is rolled out. And the celebration is lavish. You don’t kill a calf unless you are throwing a big party!
This is the backdrop to a conversation between the father and his older son. The dilemma is that they are operating on different value systems. Of course, the father values all that the older son has contributed to the family business. Who wouldn’t? Of course, he recognises his commitment and loyalty. But he can’t help himself from jumping for joy because the younger son is back, This was a day that he had longed for, a day that he may well have thought would never come – we had to celebrate and be happy, because your brother was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.
In many ways I think that the challenge of this parable, and especially this last bit of it, is to recognise that God sees things differently from us.
I think there is an interesting parallel with another parable, that of the workers in the vineyard recorded in Matthew 20. That’s the one in which the vineyard owner progressively hired more and more workers through the day. Then, at the end of the day, he paid them all the same, giving rise to the inevitable view from those who had worked the longest that it wasn’t fair. They needed to learn: don’t I have the right to do as I wish with my own money? Or are you jealous because I am generous? Actually, it is pretty clear that they were jealous.
This story, like that one, almost invites our jealousy. Surely the father has been over-extravagant. Is it really necessary to offer such a lavish response to the younger son’s return? No wonder the older brother is angry.
I think, in the end, we are left with two key questions. The first question for me is about how the story ends. What happened? We’re not actually told whether the older son was persuaded by his father or not. Did he go in to the party or did he stick it out? We simply don’t know. We might like to think that the father’s happiness was made complete by some kind of reconciliation between the two brothers. That is certainly perfectly possible. There’s nothing that says it didn’t happen. But somehow, and in a sense I wish it were otherwise, that’s not the feeling comes over. The older son seems pretty dug in. As one of the commentators puts it: “The uncomfortable feeling lingers that perhaps there is still one lost son.”
The other question moves it on to the personal level. Where do we fit in to the story? What would we have done? It’s about our feelings now, our response. As one commentator puts it: “Well, where are you in the end? Inside, joining in the celebration, or stuck outside, hearing the music and dancing but too angry to go in?”
That is especially so in verse 25 and verse 28: "In the meantime the elder son was out in the field. On his way back, when he came close to the house, he heard the music and dancing. .... The elder brother was so angry that he would not go into the house; so his father came out and begged him to come in."
The story is well known. It is one of the all-time favourite parables. It’s a vivid account of a wayward son. But I’m not going to explore the whole story – because my interest at the moment is simply in the reaction of the elder son.
His father was quite clear. This was party-time. It didn’t matter what the younger son had done. I am sure that the father no more wanted to commend that than did his big brother. This isn’t about saying to him: what you’ve done doesn’t really matter. This about saying: you’re back. This is the joy of reunion. This is the joy of having the family complete again. For the time being, what has happened is irrelevant. What matters is to celebrate the moment. The party must have been thrown together pretty quickly, but then I suppose that’s what happens in such a situation. It is simply not relevant to plan and to wait.
And so, by the time big brother gets home from the day’s work, ready to watch the television, or whatever the first century equivalent was, the thing is in full swing. What’s happening? A natural question. But when he gets the answer it doesn’t provoke in him the remotest desire to join in. He is furious. He wants none of it. All his years of hard work have gone without any such reward. But now his waster of a young brother is back and the red carpet is rolled out. And the celebration is lavish. You don’t kill a calf unless you are throwing a big party!
This is the backdrop to a conversation between the father and his older son. The dilemma is that they are operating on different value systems. Of course, the father values all that the older son has contributed to the family business. Who wouldn’t? Of course, he recognises his commitment and loyalty. But he can’t help himself from jumping for joy because the younger son is back, This was a day that he had longed for, a day that he may well have thought would never come – we had to celebrate and be happy, because your brother was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.
In many ways I think that the challenge of this parable, and especially this last bit of it, is to recognise that God sees things differently from us.
I think there is an interesting parallel with another parable, that of the workers in the vineyard recorded in Matthew 20. That’s the one in which the vineyard owner progressively hired more and more workers through the day. Then, at the end of the day, he paid them all the same, giving rise to the inevitable view from those who had worked the longest that it wasn’t fair. They needed to learn: don’t I have the right to do as I wish with my own money? Or are you jealous because I am generous? Actually, it is pretty clear that they were jealous.
This story, like that one, almost invites our jealousy. Surely the father has been over-extravagant. Is it really necessary to offer such a lavish response to the younger son’s return? No wonder the older brother is angry.
I think, in the end, we are left with two key questions. The first question for me is about how the story ends. What happened? We’re not actually told whether the older son was persuaded by his father or not. Did he go in to the party or did he stick it out? We simply don’t know. We might like to think that the father’s happiness was made complete by some kind of reconciliation between the two brothers. That is certainly perfectly possible. There’s nothing that says it didn’t happen. But somehow, and in a sense I wish it were otherwise, that’s not the feeling comes over. The older son seems pretty dug in. As one of the commentators puts it: “The uncomfortable feeling lingers that perhaps there is still one lost son.”
The other question moves it on to the personal level. Where do we fit in to the story? What would we have done? It’s about our feelings now, our response. As one commentator puts it: “Well, where are you in the end? Inside, joining in the celebration, or stuck outside, hearing the music and dancing but too angry to go in?”
Monday, 20 July 2009
Doing Justice with Amos - Amos 5:21-24
Sentiments encouraging us to justice occur in many places in the Bible, but certainly not least in the prophets. I guess one of my favourite statements on this theme comes in the stirring words recorded by Amos in Amos 5:21-24 – "I spurn with loathing your pilgrim-feasts; I take no pleasure in your sacred ceremonies. When you bring me your whole-offerings and your grain-offerings I shall not accept them, nor pay heed to your shared-offerings of stall-fed beasts. Spare me the sound of your songs; I shall not listen to the strumming of your lutes. Instead, let justice flow on like a river and righteousness like a never-failing torrent."
Well, there’s not an awful lot held back here, is there? I spurn with loathing. I take no pleasure. I shall not accept. Spare me the sound of your songs. I shall not listen.
Amos is an interesting character. He began his prophetic task around the middle of the 8th century BC. He is the first of Israel’s prophets to have his words preserved in written form, though he was certainly not the first prophet. Elijah and Elisha were amongst those who had preceded him and, though there is some record of their activities, it is interesting that neither of them gets a book of their teaching preserved, while the likes of Amos does.
Though he is interesting, we actually know very little of Amos, only what we can glean from the nine chapters that make up his book. He is never mentioned in the historical books of Kings and Chronicles. His home was somewhere near Tekoa in the southern kingdom of Judah, though his prophetic ministry took place in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had something to do with sheep and fig trees. He apparently had visions and was involved in a confrontation with the priest at Bethel. He seems to have had a thing about the people going on pilgrimage to Bethel and their thinking that by engaging in a pilgrimage they could do just what they liked the rest of the time. Not so, says Amos, and he offers a clear call to a different way of living – in which the pilgrimage impacts on every other aspect of life. Amos has no time for what a friend of mine once called ‘Sunday Christians’.
He expects faith and worship to be lived out in everyday detail. Amos would have got on well with James. James 2:17 – "So with faith; if it does not lead to action, it is by itself a lifeless thing." Earlier in the chapter it is made clear that God’s concern is with what is going on inside the people, not with any external demonstrations of piety. That’s in Amos 5:4/5 – "These are the words of the Lord to the people of Israel: if you would live, make your way to me, not to Bethel; do not go to Gilgal or pass on to Beersheba; for Gilgal will surely go into exile and Bethel come to nothing."
Amos condemns the traditional holy places, clearly indicating that lifestyle is far more important than location. What matters is that the people behave themselves, not where they do it. There is a wealth of religion in verses 21 to 23. It’s what we might call Gilgal, or Bethel, religion. Festivals, sacrifices and music are all evident and abundant. There is no doubt that they went in for religion in a big way at Gilgal. They took it seriously. They gave full expression to their religious joys, singing songs to the accompaniment of harps. The vibrancy and excitement virtually communicates itself. One can almost hear them singing. Only God can’t. I doubt if there are any other Biblical passages that so vehemently and so lucidly express the divine distaste. I spurn. I shall not. Instead.
They went to Gilgal to be religious, but they left their religion behind when they went home. Pilgrims rolled in to the festivals, but justice and righteousness failed to roll out into everyday life and relationships. Therefore their religion stank so far as God was concerned. When, in verse 21, it says I take no pleasure in .. , that literally means ‘I will not breathe in the odour of’. God rejects the worship the people offer him, looking instead for justice and righteousness.
What are these? What is this about? In verse 7 there is a reference to you that turn justice to poison. This indicates justice as being something that involves the treatment of other people. Justice is right behaviour in relation to others. The good person wants what is good for others, what is good for the neighbours. That is what he works towards.
In the same verse 7 righteousness is depicted as something thrown to the ground –"you thrust righteousness to the ground." This suggests righteousness to be a standard or a norm that is rejected. This measure of how things are is not taken up.
Amos here offers a clear expression of what God will not countenance and what God demands. It is simply not possible to offer God worship while trampling justice underfoot. Amos rejects a cult that is too rich in ceremony. He is looking for something different. Amos’ remarks must have seemed monstrous to his contemporaries, as they called in question the whole religious life of the Israelities. Amos is wanting to press another way.
The trouble with the Gilgal theology is that it kept religion in a sealed compartment. It was an activity isolated from the rest of life. What we have here is a tick box kind of mentality. Do the religious bit. Do the worship bit, then tick it off and move on to something else. There is always a risk that chuch can be viewed like that. Fulfil your obligations, and then it doesn’t matter how you behave the rest of the time.
Amos is stunningly clear that that is not how things should be. That view, of course, puts him firmly in the prophetic tradition. He knows that such a stance was never God’s intention for his people. What is needed is joined-up thinking. Their faith and their lifestyle need to influence each other. Is Amos saying that worship is a waste of time? I don’t think so – not for one minute.
But he is saying that meaningless worhip is precisely that – meaningless. Their worship needs to be accompanied by justice and righteousness. Justice and righteousness must not be things of fits and starts. They must be a consistent feature of the nation’s life if its corporate and organised worship is to be pleasing to God, so maintaining a proper relationship with him.
The metaphor used for the impact of justice and righteousness is that of water. Justice is to flow like a river. Righteousness is to be like a never-failing torrent. This has been Amos’ complaint all along. The torrent is the stream that flows from the hills in flood when the rains come, but dries up in the hot, dry summer. Rather, it should be never-failing.
Well, there’s not an awful lot held back here, is there? I spurn with loathing. I take no pleasure. I shall not accept. Spare me the sound of your songs. I shall not listen.
Amos is an interesting character. He began his prophetic task around the middle of the 8th century BC. He is the first of Israel’s prophets to have his words preserved in written form, though he was certainly not the first prophet. Elijah and Elisha were amongst those who had preceded him and, though there is some record of their activities, it is interesting that neither of them gets a book of their teaching preserved, while the likes of Amos does.
Though he is interesting, we actually know very little of Amos, only what we can glean from the nine chapters that make up his book. He is never mentioned in the historical books of Kings and Chronicles. His home was somewhere near Tekoa in the southern kingdom of Judah, though his prophetic ministry took place in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had something to do with sheep and fig trees. He apparently had visions and was involved in a confrontation with the priest at Bethel. He seems to have had a thing about the people going on pilgrimage to Bethel and their thinking that by engaging in a pilgrimage they could do just what they liked the rest of the time. Not so, says Amos, and he offers a clear call to a different way of living – in which the pilgrimage impacts on every other aspect of life. Amos has no time for what a friend of mine once called ‘Sunday Christians’.
He expects faith and worship to be lived out in everyday detail. Amos would have got on well with James. James 2:17 – "So with faith; if it does not lead to action, it is by itself a lifeless thing." Earlier in the chapter it is made clear that God’s concern is with what is going on inside the people, not with any external demonstrations of piety. That’s in Amos 5:4/5 – "These are the words of the Lord to the people of Israel: if you would live, make your way to me, not to Bethel; do not go to Gilgal or pass on to Beersheba; for Gilgal will surely go into exile and Bethel come to nothing."
Amos condemns the traditional holy places, clearly indicating that lifestyle is far more important than location. What matters is that the people behave themselves, not where they do it. There is a wealth of religion in verses 21 to 23. It’s what we might call Gilgal, or Bethel, religion. Festivals, sacrifices and music are all evident and abundant. There is no doubt that they went in for religion in a big way at Gilgal. They took it seriously. They gave full expression to their religious joys, singing songs to the accompaniment of harps. The vibrancy and excitement virtually communicates itself. One can almost hear them singing. Only God can’t. I doubt if there are any other Biblical passages that so vehemently and so lucidly express the divine distaste. I spurn. I shall not. Instead.
They went to Gilgal to be religious, but they left their religion behind when they went home. Pilgrims rolled in to the festivals, but justice and righteousness failed to roll out into everyday life and relationships. Therefore their religion stank so far as God was concerned. When, in verse 21, it says I take no pleasure in .. , that literally means ‘I will not breathe in the odour of’. God rejects the worship the people offer him, looking instead for justice and righteousness.
What are these? What is this about? In verse 7 there is a reference to you that turn justice to poison. This indicates justice as being something that involves the treatment of other people. Justice is right behaviour in relation to others. The good person wants what is good for others, what is good for the neighbours. That is what he works towards.
In the same verse 7 righteousness is depicted as something thrown to the ground –"you thrust righteousness to the ground." This suggests righteousness to be a standard or a norm that is rejected. This measure of how things are is not taken up.
Amos here offers a clear expression of what God will not countenance and what God demands. It is simply not possible to offer God worship while trampling justice underfoot. Amos rejects a cult that is too rich in ceremony. He is looking for something different. Amos’ remarks must have seemed monstrous to his contemporaries, as they called in question the whole religious life of the Israelities. Amos is wanting to press another way.
The trouble with the Gilgal theology is that it kept religion in a sealed compartment. It was an activity isolated from the rest of life. What we have here is a tick box kind of mentality. Do the religious bit. Do the worship bit, then tick it off and move on to something else. There is always a risk that chuch can be viewed like that. Fulfil your obligations, and then it doesn’t matter how you behave the rest of the time.
Amos is stunningly clear that that is not how things should be. That view, of course, puts him firmly in the prophetic tradition. He knows that such a stance was never God’s intention for his people. What is needed is joined-up thinking. Their faith and their lifestyle need to influence each other. Is Amos saying that worship is a waste of time? I don’t think so – not for one minute.
But he is saying that meaningless worhip is precisely that – meaningless. Their worship needs to be accompanied by justice and righteousness. Justice and righteousness must not be things of fits and starts. They must be a consistent feature of the nation’s life if its corporate and organised worship is to be pleasing to God, so maintaining a proper relationship with him.
The metaphor used for the impact of justice and righteousness is that of water. Justice is to flow like a river. Righteousness is to be like a never-failing torrent. This has been Amos’ complaint all along. The torrent is the stream that flows from the hills in flood when the rains come, but dries up in the hot, dry summer. Rather, it should be never-failing.
Saturday, 18 July 2009
Building God's House: Or Not? - 2 Samuel 7
At the time of 2 Samuel 7 David is an important character. He has settled down. He has made it. He is, as the first verse of 2 Samuel 7 puts it, 'established in his palace'. This is a fascinating passage, this account in 2 Samuel 7 of what happens when David tells the prophet that he wants to build a place of worship.
David is now a formidable force on the world scene. He is an established figure politically. As the latter part of 2 Samuel 7:1 puts it, 'the Lord had given him security from his enemies on all sides'. Things have gone well for David and he’s enjoying the prosperity. He’s enjoying the power. He is very happy with what he has achieved. It’s a settled period and roots are being put down.
David is doing quite nicely, but a pang of guilt suggests to him that perhaps he has not done too well by God. David is feeling a bit guilty that he has invested so much in his own comfort, but done nothing about the provision of an appropriate worship space.
The people have moved on – so that they are not now moving on all the time, but God, as it were, has apparently been left behind still in their nomadic phase. 'Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the Ark of God is housed in a tent'. David wants to do something about the provision that has been made for God’s house, for the place of worship.
Nathan, like any good church minister, welcomes the prospect of this major donation –'Do whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is with you'. It sounds great. But has David got it right? David has got kingship right. He has taken the people to a good place. They are settled. They are prosperous. But we’re about to discover that he hasn’t got his theology right. Nor, of course, has the prophet.
But, before we go on to say just a little about that, let’s remind ourselves that we, too, sometimes need to be moved in an unexpected direction by God. There are times when we think we’ve got it all mapped out, but actually we’re working off the wrong map. It’s our one, not God’s.
But let’s get back to our story. Nathan has told David to get on with putting his plan into action – but now he has got to reverse his advice because God tells him that he needs to tell David something different. Indeed, he needs to tell him precisely the opposite. The donation is to be turned down. The point is, of course, a theological one, as well as a practical one. The tent, in which God has so far dwelled, is a symbol of mobility. It indicates that God is on the move. In essence, David wants to pin God down. David wants to make sure that God is always there for him.
Now I don’t actually think there is anything wrong with wanting to pin God down. It’s natural. We all want to do it. We want to know that God is there for us. We want to do that, just as much as David did. But we need to learn, just as David did, that you can’t. I am not, of course, saying that God isn’t there for us. Of course, God is. That is fundamental. But it is equally fundamental that God is not necessarily there for us in the way that we want.
David has settled down. Now he starts thinking about getting God settled down as well. Only God doesn’t do settling down. David wants to give God a permanent roof, to try and make sure God doesn’t wander any longer, to create a place for God that removes any need to be vagrant or itinerant. Only God is not – and never will be – ready to be domesticated. God has been free and God will continue to be free. Even a royal apparatus as great as that of David is not able to make God its patron. The proposed permanent residence for God is unacceptable because it violates God’s freedom. God cannot be pinned down. Most of us try to do that at some time or other – but it just doesn’t work.
Now, of course, all this doesn’t mean that God isn’t interested in David. It doesn’t mean that God isn’t there for David. But what it does mean is that it is God who is setting the agenda. It is not David who is doing that. We all quite like to think that we can set God’s agenda – but we can’t. But the great thing is that the very fact that we can’t opens up all sorts of possibilities. What’s going on here is not David being limited because he can’t get enough of God. Rather, David is to find himself fulfilling a potential beyond his dreams because of what God makes possible.
There’s an interesting little play on words in verse 11. David has wanted to build God a house, a temple. That’s not to be for David. The house-building is to be done by God. God will build for David a house, a dynasty. Up to this point David’s concern has simply been with gaining the support of God to enable him to engage in a successful reign of king. But now the promise is that that is only part of the story. His reign is the start of a dynasty. The promise of God, through the prophet, takes us on a great leap into the future.
In words from Ephesians, chapter 3, verse 20, 'God has done for David more than all we can ask or conceive'.
David is now a formidable force on the world scene. He is an established figure politically. As the latter part of 2 Samuel 7:1 puts it, 'the Lord had given him security from his enemies on all sides'. Things have gone well for David and he’s enjoying the prosperity. He’s enjoying the power. He is very happy with what he has achieved. It’s a settled period and roots are being put down.
David is doing quite nicely, but a pang of guilt suggests to him that perhaps he has not done too well by God. David is feeling a bit guilty that he has invested so much in his own comfort, but done nothing about the provision of an appropriate worship space.
The people have moved on – so that they are not now moving on all the time, but God, as it were, has apparently been left behind still in their nomadic phase. 'Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the Ark of God is housed in a tent'. David wants to do something about the provision that has been made for God’s house, for the place of worship.
Nathan, like any good church minister, welcomes the prospect of this major donation –'Do whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is with you'. It sounds great. But has David got it right? David has got kingship right. He has taken the people to a good place. They are settled. They are prosperous. But we’re about to discover that he hasn’t got his theology right. Nor, of course, has the prophet.
But, before we go on to say just a little about that, let’s remind ourselves that we, too, sometimes need to be moved in an unexpected direction by God. There are times when we think we’ve got it all mapped out, but actually we’re working off the wrong map. It’s our one, not God’s.
But let’s get back to our story. Nathan has told David to get on with putting his plan into action – but now he has got to reverse his advice because God tells him that he needs to tell David something different. Indeed, he needs to tell him precisely the opposite. The donation is to be turned down. The point is, of course, a theological one, as well as a practical one. The tent, in which God has so far dwelled, is a symbol of mobility. It indicates that God is on the move. In essence, David wants to pin God down. David wants to make sure that God is always there for him.
Now I don’t actually think there is anything wrong with wanting to pin God down. It’s natural. We all want to do it. We want to know that God is there for us. We want to do that, just as much as David did. But we need to learn, just as David did, that you can’t. I am not, of course, saying that God isn’t there for us. Of course, God is. That is fundamental. But it is equally fundamental that God is not necessarily there for us in the way that we want.
David has settled down. Now he starts thinking about getting God settled down as well. Only God doesn’t do settling down. David wants to give God a permanent roof, to try and make sure God doesn’t wander any longer, to create a place for God that removes any need to be vagrant or itinerant. Only God is not – and never will be – ready to be domesticated. God has been free and God will continue to be free. Even a royal apparatus as great as that of David is not able to make God its patron. The proposed permanent residence for God is unacceptable because it violates God’s freedom. God cannot be pinned down. Most of us try to do that at some time or other – but it just doesn’t work.
Now, of course, all this doesn’t mean that God isn’t interested in David. It doesn’t mean that God isn’t there for David. But what it does mean is that it is God who is setting the agenda. It is not David who is doing that. We all quite like to think that we can set God’s agenda – but we can’t. But the great thing is that the very fact that we can’t opens up all sorts of possibilities. What’s going on here is not David being limited because he can’t get enough of God. Rather, David is to find himself fulfilling a potential beyond his dreams because of what God makes possible.
There’s an interesting little play on words in verse 11. David has wanted to build God a house, a temple. That’s not to be for David. The house-building is to be done by God. God will build for David a house, a dynasty. Up to this point David’s concern has simply been with gaining the support of God to enable him to engage in a successful reign of king. But now the promise is that that is only part of the story. His reign is the start of a dynasty. The promise of God, through the prophet, takes us on a great leap into the future.
In words from Ephesians, chapter 3, verse 20, 'God has done for David more than all we can ask or conceive'.
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