One of the important elements of parables in the Gospels is that they serve to root concepts into something more concrete. In the Gospel narratives, we see how Jesus employs daily experiences from the common cultural milieu to weave in deep theological truths so that they might be made a bit more plain.
Today’s reading is no exception—in today’s reading we discuss how wonderful it is to have the wayward and lost returned. But we not only find the hope in return, but also the promise that those who are lost will be sought after diligently. What good news…and how easily we can accept it.
I mean, really who of us hasn’t had to leave all of our sheep to go and find that one who has wandered off?! After all of the time we have spent raising that little lamb and seeing that it is healthy…to just have it wander off? Certainly once we’ve brought it home, the first thing we would do is call all the neighbors and tell them the great news…
Then there’s the whole issue of losing your silver coins. Boy, if I had danarii for every time I lost my silver coins…jinkies. But after all of the sweeping and turning on of lights, well, it all turns out alright, and immediately I’m on the phone again to the neighbors…
Okay, so maybe all of that is a bit of a stretch. Granted, if I had 99 sheep living with me in Shaker Heights it is likely that my neighbors would be less than excited that I recovered one which was lost. Besides I’m sure there is some city ordinance about keeping sheep in Shaker, anyway.
It may also be the case that my neighbors are not all that concerned about me losing my silver coins. So, if they suddenly got a celebratory phone call from me telling them that I’d found them—well, I’m sure that they would be polite, but I imagine that the phone call would not be very long.
It’s all a bit hard to put into our own context … But it’s a stretch only because we have some cultural and temporal barriers to get past. Most of us don’t keep sheep and we certainly don’t use silver as a common currency.
But, then what we actually see in parables is a willing suspension of disbelief for everyone—even on the part of both Jesus and his listeners. The point of the parable is to go to such an extreme that those being taught cannot help but really “get” what is being explained.
So, while there may be some cultural relevance to lost sheep and coins in the 1st Century, it’s likely that celebration at their recovery might be a little over the top for them as well…
Luckily the meaning behind these stories is not so hard to get at…
What can we say for this particular lesson is that it promises something that anyone can understand—that Jesus is willing to go to great lengths to find the one who is lost and wandering. Whether we’re just random sheep who get found and picked-up, or we’re sheep who just got a little distracted, we can all probably agree that being recovered after being lost is a pretty good thing…
A particular memory from my childhood comes to mind in regard to this idea. I was probably only about 5 or 6, and my dad took me to some really big store. I don’t recall the name, but it was a store big enough to carry both home improvement supplies and toys—all of the essentials, really. It just happened that we passed the toy section on our way through and something inevitably caught my eye… A “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set.
Suddenly there was nothing else in the world that I could have wanted more—compared to this “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set, all else was dross…
Well, I knew I had to have this thing, and so I set about making my plans about how I would talk my dad into purchasing it. I knew I would need to begin by reasoning with him that this would be a toy that I would play with always, and there would be no need to ever buy another toy as long as I lived. My life would be complete.
The first step in my plan however would be to show him the wisdom of this investment, and so I needed only to find someone to tell me the price…
I wandered for a short time before I found two men working at a counter and I inquired about the “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set, (which more and more I knew I could not live without). To my surprise, these two men looked at one another and chuckled.
Apparently my request was not understood, because rather than responding with some figure, one of them asked “Where are your parents?” Suddenly I was all alone in the world—except for Bert and Ernie, of course. For the first time I realized that my dad had not followed me on my mission—how he had utterly vanished… Without hesitation I bravely began to cry.
The man asked me my name and who I was with, so he could make a call over the P.A. system. I proceeded to tell him my full name, my dad’s full name and our address and I may have even added my birth date. In the end, my dad found me, and I was far less interested in the “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set afterward… I was just glad to know that I was safe and wouldn’t have live in the store.
I admit the memories of the story aren’t so clear now, but I certainly know the feeling associated with it. I never did get the “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set, but I was surprised to find that my sisters and my mom and dad were not angry that I had gotten lost—only concerned that I knew I was safe again.
I suppose for any of us who have had one of these experiences—whether we’re the one who is lost, or the one searching—we know how frightening it is to have all feeling of security suddenly pulled from us. Obviously that’s the feeling that comes with being lost…
I often joke that because I have survived my son Tristan for 3 ½ years that my karma is paid up. But there is never a more frightening feeling than when he bolts at the play ground, or if he is out of my sightline for too long. As it turns out, it doesn’t matter how many times I tell him to stay close, he will inevitably find an opportunity to take off. When I think about all of the emotions and physical responses that I feel in those moments, I begin to understand a bit of why Jesus would pursue us in the moments when we have bolted.
I think to carry the image a bit further, I might even imagine Jesus saying “I need you to understand that I want you to stay close so that you won’t get hurt or lost. But right now, I’m just glad that you’re safe…”
Sometimes we can get so distracted by things that we find too late that we have wandered off. Maybe it’s not just that we have not attended to our spiritual lives, but also that we have begun to forget the connections and people who keep us safe. Those people who remind us that we are loved and accepted not only by them, but most of all by God. But sometimes we forget…then we’re like wandering sheep, or children too caught-up in getting a “Bert and Ernie Play Doh” set.
Thankfully, like the parent who loves us and cannot imagine being without us, Jesus searches us out desperately and spares no effort in reclaiming us. And that feeling of being found again and returned to a safe place is one that I hope all of us have had opportunity to experience.
It’s true that we might have a tough time connecting to certain parables, but what we know about this one, and what we should never fail to comprehend is that the love of Jesus Christ for us is so strong that we cannot help but be ‘found’ and returned home.
So to everyone here, welcome back to the program year. But more importantly, for all of us who have felt at some point lost and wandering: welcome home.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Proper 18, 2010
Paul’s letter to Philemon, Philemon or Philemon is one which doesn’t come up in the Lectionary very often. And due to its subject matter regarding slavery, perhaps the Church has been happy that it was rarely read in Sunday worship—especially in this past century. We know from even a brief survey of American history that Scripture was used to condone slavery, and this particular letter was likely part of that justification.
Thankfully, however, Paul’s reputation and that of Holy Scripture can be vindicated if we are simply willing to actually read what the letter is about—namely self-sacrifice and reconciliation.
Paul, as we know, is writing to a fellow Christian (Philemon) on behalf of the man’s escaped slave Onesimus. What we can gather from the context of the letter, Onesimus had somehow had a falling out with his master Philemon. We can guess that there may have even been some financial implications to this disagreement, and Onesimus had gone away and somehow came to know Paul. Onesimus is then converted and, perhaps at Paul’s urging, looks to be reconciled with his master, and now, brother in Christ…
Things between Philemon and Onesimus were at the very least touchy. In his letter, Paul recognizes that Philemon believed Onesimus to be useless—but Paul writes that the man had become invaluable to him in his time in prison. But what Paul asks of Philemon runs contrary not only to justifications for slavery, but even contrary to human nature. Paul asks Philemon not only to receive Onesimus back, but also to be reconciled with him and greet him as a brother…
We really do not know to what extent Onesimus had offended his master—again we get a few small hints, but nothing to really make a case. What we do know however is our own experience of being hurt or betrayed. In this case we have no problem putting ourselves into Philemon’s place—or maybe we feel more like Onesimus who continues as a fugitive soul waiting to be redeemed. Wherever we find ourselves, we know that the price of relationship is sacrifice to the end that we may be reconciled. To whatever degree we have been hurt or have hurt others, we know the burden most when forgiveness and reconciliation needs to happen.
There are a few organizations which specialize in what is known as “Restorative Justice.”Restorative justice is a process by which victims and offenders meet to the end that both may try to have some closure to whatever event they were involved in. This work is used from everything as small as verbal bullying in schools to murder.
It seems an odd thing because it’s not just counter-cultural, it’s counter-human-nature. But even for those who are most skeptical of the process they find in the end that the closure is worth all of it. There are even times when these interactions end in some forgiveness and reconciliation.
There was one story in particular in which a woman whose husband had been murdered wanted to see and meet her husband’s murderer. The police had agreed to this in hope for more evidence to surface against the man.
The woman’s husband had been brutally beaten by a group of young men when he had heard a loud party going on at his neighbor’s house who was supposed to be out of town. When he went to check things out, he was attacked and eventually died from the beating.
After something like 5 years, and an extensive investigation, this woman got her wish. As soon as this man, who had been 17 at the time of the murder, sat down, he began to weep. He began saying over and over again that he didn’t mean to do it. The woman said that she found herself telling him that everything was going to be alright in the end.
As she left the room, she could see that the man was still being filmed in the room and that he was still crying. She found out the day of the meeting that the man had written letters of apology to her and her children. As she watched him continue to weep, she became overcome with the feeling that she didn’t want him to have to be alone in that room.
In the end, he pled guilty and is serving his sentence. As for the woman, she is planning to start an education program to help adolescents avoid the same fate as her husband’s murderer by staying away from substance abuse—a key player in her husband’s murder. She even added that she hoped someday that this man would join her in her work.
When I read things like this story, I’m encouraged that there is still so much good in humanity. I get a charge out of the thought that there could be more than just reform in our justice system, but reform in our hearts that we could see justice done. But honestly, when it comes to forgiving or even being forgiven myself, I don’t know that I can always deliver with the kind of grace that we see in stories like this one.
Thankfully, learning how to be reconciled and how to forgive is exactly what Christian faith is about. Whether we are speaking of Jesus reconciling us to God, or the grace that we’re given to struggle to live in one Spirit—we never stop learning and practicing this spiritual gift.
There are times, of course, when our prayers for grace and acceptance seem to go unanswered. Sometimes our best attempts are shunned and our hand (olive branch and all) gets slapped away. But if we’re willing to practice the gift, and continue to strive for reconciliation, we may find that our own hearts are changed even if the other person seems unmoved. But then, I also believe that God is a God of hard cases and eventually even the tough ones come around. All the same it can be a tough road getting there…
Reconciliation is not easy work because it asks us to look within ourselves—it holds a mirror up to us and asks us to really see who we are that we can see how incomplete we are. At its core, the work of reconciliation is not the stuff of casual or trendy Christianity because it demands sacrifice. If there is any question of that cost we need only look to Good Friday as proof—there is always a cost. However, like Good Friday, that story doesn’t end until Easter morning with the glorious resurrection. If we can trust and try to be reconciled, we may find our relationships are resurrected as well.
We don’t know how the story ends, but Onesimus was willing to be reconciled to a master he had wronged, because he trusted in the grace of Jesus Christ. So perhaps for those of us who need to be forgiven and reconciled, or even those of us who need to forgive—perhaps we can trust that there’s some grace for us too.
Thankfully, however, Paul’s reputation and that of Holy Scripture can be vindicated if we are simply willing to actually read what the letter is about—namely self-sacrifice and reconciliation.
Paul, as we know, is writing to a fellow Christian (Philemon) on behalf of the man’s escaped slave Onesimus. What we can gather from the context of the letter, Onesimus had somehow had a falling out with his master Philemon. We can guess that there may have even been some financial implications to this disagreement, and Onesimus had gone away and somehow came to know Paul. Onesimus is then converted and, perhaps at Paul’s urging, looks to be reconciled with his master, and now, brother in Christ…
Things between Philemon and Onesimus were at the very least touchy. In his letter, Paul recognizes that Philemon believed Onesimus to be useless—but Paul writes that the man had become invaluable to him in his time in prison. But what Paul asks of Philemon runs contrary not only to justifications for slavery, but even contrary to human nature. Paul asks Philemon not only to receive Onesimus back, but also to be reconciled with him and greet him as a brother…
We really do not know to what extent Onesimus had offended his master—again we get a few small hints, but nothing to really make a case. What we do know however is our own experience of being hurt or betrayed. In this case we have no problem putting ourselves into Philemon’s place—or maybe we feel more like Onesimus who continues as a fugitive soul waiting to be redeemed. Wherever we find ourselves, we know that the price of relationship is sacrifice to the end that we may be reconciled. To whatever degree we have been hurt or have hurt others, we know the burden most when forgiveness and reconciliation needs to happen.
There are a few organizations which specialize in what is known as “Restorative Justice.”Restorative justice is a process by which victims and offenders meet to the end that both may try to have some closure to whatever event they were involved in. This work is used from everything as small as verbal bullying in schools to murder.
It seems an odd thing because it’s not just counter-cultural, it’s counter-human-nature. But even for those who are most skeptical of the process they find in the end that the closure is worth all of it. There are even times when these interactions end in some forgiveness and reconciliation.
There was one story in particular in which a woman whose husband had been murdered wanted to see and meet her husband’s murderer. The police had agreed to this in hope for more evidence to surface against the man.
The woman’s husband had been brutally beaten by a group of young men when he had heard a loud party going on at his neighbor’s house who was supposed to be out of town. When he went to check things out, he was attacked and eventually died from the beating.
After something like 5 years, and an extensive investigation, this woman got her wish. As soon as this man, who had been 17 at the time of the murder, sat down, he began to weep. He began saying over and over again that he didn’t mean to do it. The woman said that she found herself telling him that everything was going to be alright in the end.
As she left the room, she could see that the man was still being filmed in the room and that he was still crying. She found out the day of the meeting that the man had written letters of apology to her and her children. As she watched him continue to weep, she became overcome with the feeling that she didn’t want him to have to be alone in that room.
In the end, he pled guilty and is serving his sentence. As for the woman, she is planning to start an education program to help adolescents avoid the same fate as her husband’s murderer by staying away from substance abuse—a key player in her husband’s murder. She even added that she hoped someday that this man would join her in her work.
When I read things like this story, I’m encouraged that there is still so much good in humanity. I get a charge out of the thought that there could be more than just reform in our justice system, but reform in our hearts that we could see justice done. But honestly, when it comes to forgiving or even being forgiven myself, I don’t know that I can always deliver with the kind of grace that we see in stories like this one.
Thankfully, learning how to be reconciled and how to forgive is exactly what Christian faith is about. Whether we are speaking of Jesus reconciling us to God, or the grace that we’re given to struggle to live in one Spirit—we never stop learning and practicing this spiritual gift.
There are times, of course, when our prayers for grace and acceptance seem to go unanswered. Sometimes our best attempts are shunned and our hand (olive branch and all) gets slapped away. But if we’re willing to practice the gift, and continue to strive for reconciliation, we may find that our own hearts are changed even if the other person seems unmoved. But then, I also believe that God is a God of hard cases and eventually even the tough ones come around. All the same it can be a tough road getting there…
Reconciliation is not easy work because it asks us to look within ourselves—it holds a mirror up to us and asks us to really see who we are that we can see how incomplete we are. At its core, the work of reconciliation is not the stuff of casual or trendy Christianity because it demands sacrifice. If there is any question of that cost we need only look to Good Friday as proof—there is always a cost. However, like Good Friday, that story doesn’t end until Easter morning with the glorious resurrection. If we can trust and try to be reconciled, we may find our relationships are resurrected as well.
We don’t know how the story ends, but Onesimus was willing to be reconciled to a master he had wronged, because he trusted in the grace of Jesus Christ. So perhaps for those of us who need to be forgiven and reconciled, or even those of us who need to forgive—perhaps we can trust that there’s some grace for us too.
Proper 16, 2010
What are the things that get in our way? Not just the stumbling blocks that make life a little rough, but the things that are actual obstacles to our lives of faith. It’s a question worth pondering, because I think that for many of us those obstructions are things we couldn’t have imagined.
Our Gospel reading today begins by telling us of a woman who had spent much of her life crippled. Jesus who happened to be teaching in the synagogue when she walked in immediately called her over and identified her condition as a spiritual affliction. Luke also tells us that she had been living this way for eighteen years before Jesus healed her. So it’s no mystery why everyone was so excited about this, especially the woman. However, not everyone is quite so happy.
This is of course the kind of response we’ve come to expect in the Gospels—namely that Jesus’ opponents are interested in discrediting him at every turn. Once again, Jesus’ opponent is absolutely right according to the Law—the Sabbath laws are very clear about how one should take rest. But, as we can once again plainly see the opponent misses the bigger picture—Jesus has performed another miracle, and one more person is made whole and restored to the community.
For this man who challenged Jesus, perhaps his opposition was related to his strict adherence to the Law. However, whether or not it was because of a sort of pettiness as the Gospel writer seems to suggest, the point is that the man seems to be so detained by his views that he cannot even see divine action right in front of him. His own short-sightedness literally makes him miss the power of this moment.
But if we were to consider a best intentions scenario in this reading, we realize that this man simply could not get past his own ‘stuff’ (to use the theological term). And if we’re willing to be honest, we could probably think of times in our own lives when we’ve missed God. Times when we couldn’t get beyond some thing that had us hung up, and we just missed the boat. Perhaps if we just could have identified those things sooner, things might have been different.
So, what are the things that get in our way? It’s actually a pretty difficult question to answer, like I said, it’s not always the most obvious things that are our stumbling blocks. In fact, when I asked myself the question, I was a little surprised at what I discovered.
First off, let me say that it is a strange thing being a clergy person. Even if I’m not wearing my clericals, inevitably I will happen into a conversation with someone who will ask me my profession, and I tell them. What happens next is a series of awkward retractions and apologies for certain kinds of language, behavior, et cetera, ad absurdum. As you can imagine, that’s the part I hate. It’s as if suddenly I’m no longer the person they struck-up conversation with, and suddenly I am a sacrosanct prude who just got let out of my prayer cell.
This isn’t the worst part of it, though. Instead, what I find is that in those moments, I tend to understate what my vocation really means to me. It’s as if I’m somehow worried that by me being honest about how much I love this work and all of this Church stuff that I will somehow offend someone, or turn them off to Christianity forever. After all there are a lot of people with baggage when it comes to religious and spiritual life.
But what I realized is that I may also be missing an opportunity to show how deeply my faith affects everything that I do. I miss the chance to show that there are genuinely devout, young clergy people in the Church, and that we’re not all crazy. And if someone does have baggage, couldn’t it be helpful to see and hear positives about the whole thing?
Certainly I want to react against the old clergy-centric models. I do believe in being approachable. But while I want to respect the comfort level of another person, I also don’t want to miss an opportunity to be honest about what God has done in me and might be trying to do through me in the moment.
We find a similar issue in the church, where it feels as though we may be encroaching on someone if we’re honest about the depth of our faith, or our personal piety. And while I do believe there is a time and place for such conversations, it does seem ironic that such conversations never seem to surface—not even at church. Perhaps in this case what we have come to believe to be congeniality may be disingenuous, and as such an impediment to our faith.
But this is just one kind of issue, for each of us our obstacles may be quite different. For the young would-be prophet Jeremiah, he couldn’t get beyond himself enough to realize that God was calling him to be a prophet. It’s true that he would have his work cut out for him, but what Jeremiah missed was that God was calling him in spite of his shortcomings. If God hadn’t set him straight, Jeremiah could have gotten in his own way and maybe even missed God’s call.
Jeremiah’s obstacles may not be the most common, but just like in his case, we find that God is the one who reveals such obstacles to us. And inevitably, God puts them all into perspective and helps us get past them.
So what are the things that get in your way? What’s more, how do we identify them? First, we have to seriously ask ourselves the question, and then be brave enough to hold it up in prayer. And I believe that the God who leads us into all truth will never lead us astray. But, because of the deep love that God has for us, he will make clear those things that make our way difficult—whether we recognized them or not. Because as St. Paul said, “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom 8:38-39).” If that’s the case, we can be certain that God won’t leave us in the dark about the things we allow to get in our own way. But it all starts with our willingness to allow God to help us realize them. In the end, all the work will be worth it if it makes our journey with God that much easier.
Our Gospel reading today begins by telling us of a woman who had spent much of her life crippled. Jesus who happened to be teaching in the synagogue when she walked in immediately called her over and identified her condition as a spiritual affliction. Luke also tells us that she had been living this way for eighteen years before Jesus healed her. So it’s no mystery why everyone was so excited about this, especially the woman. However, not everyone is quite so happy.
This is of course the kind of response we’ve come to expect in the Gospels—namely that Jesus’ opponents are interested in discrediting him at every turn. Once again, Jesus’ opponent is absolutely right according to the Law—the Sabbath laws are very clear about how one should take rest. But, as we can once again plainly see the opponent misses the bigger picture—Jesus has performed another miracle, and one more person is made whole and restored to the community.
For this man who challenged Jesus, perhaps his opposition was related to his strict adherence to the Law. However, whether or not it was because of a sort of pettiness as the Gospel writer seems to suggest, the point is that the man seems to be so detained by his views that he cannot even see divine action right in front of him. His own short-sightedness literally makes him miss the power of this moment.
But if we were to consider a best intentions scenario in this reading, we realize that this man simply could not get past his own ‘stuff’ (to use the theological term). And if we’re willing to be honest, we could probably think of times in our own lives when we’ve missed God. Times when we couldn’t get beyond some thing that had us hung up, and we just missed the boat. Perhaps if we just could have identified those things sooner, things might have been different.
So, what are the things that get in our way? It’s actually a pretty difficult question to answer, like I said, it’s not always the most obvious things that are our stumbling blocks. In fact, when I asked myself the question, I was a little surprised at what I discovered.
First off, let me say that it is a strange thing being a clergy person. Even if I’m not wearing my clericals, inevitably I will happen into a conversation with someone who will ask me my profession, and I tell them. What happens next is a series of awkward retractions and apologies for certain kinds of language, behavior, et cetera, ad absurdum. As you can imagine, that’s the part I hate. It’s as if suddenly I’m no longer the person they struck-up conversation with, and suddenly I am a sacrosanct prude who just got let out of my prayer cell.
This isn’t the worst part of it, though. Instead, what I find is that in those moments, I tend to understate what my vocation really means to me. It’s as if I’m somehow worried that by me being honest about how much I love this work and all of this Church stuff that I will somehow offend someone, or turn them off to Christianity forever. After all there are a lot of people with baggage when it comes to religious and spiritual life.
But what I realized is that I may also be missing an opportunity to show how deeply my faith affects everything that I do. I miss the chance to show that there are genuinely devout, young clergy people in the Church, and that we’re not all crazy. And if someone does have baggage, couldn’t it be helpful to see and hear positives about the whole thing?
Certainly I want to react against the old clergy-centric models. I do believe in being approachable. But while I want to respect the comfort level of another person, I also don’t want to miss an opportunity to be honest about what God has done in me and might be trying to do through me in the moment.
We find a similar issue in the church, where it feels as though we may be encroaching on someone if we’re honest about the depth of our faith, or our personal piety. And while I do believe there is a time and place for such conversations, it does seem ironic that such conversations never seem to surface—not even at church. Perhaps in this case what we have come to believe to be congeniality may be disingenuous, and as such an impediment to our faith.
But this is just one kind of issue, for each of us our obstacles may be quite different. For the young would-be prophet Jeremiah, he couldn’t get beyond himself enough to realize that God was calling him to be a prophet. It’s true that he would have his work cut out for him, but what Jeremiah missed was that God was calling him in spite of his shortcomings. If God hadn’t set him straight, Jeremiah could have gotten in his own way and maybe even missed God’s call.
Jeremiah’s obstacles may not be the most common, but just like in his case, we find that God is the one who reveals such obstacles to us. And inevitably, God puts them all into perspective and helps us get past them.
So what are the things that get in your way? What’s more, how do we identify them? First, we have to seriously ask ourselves the question, and then be brave enough to hold it up in prayer. And I believe that the God who leads us into all truth will never lead us astray. But, because of the deep love that God has for us, he will make clear those things that make our way difficult—whether we recognized them or not. Because as St. Paul said, “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom 8:38-39).” If that’s the case, we can be certain that God won’t leave us in the dark about the things we allow to get in our own way. But it all starts with our willingness to allow God to help us realize them. In the end, all the work will be worth it if it makes our journey with God that much easier.
Proper 6, 2010
The story in today’s Gospel reading is one with which we’re somewhat familiar. It shows up in other Gospel narratives, even if the characters are slightly different. All the same we are presented with much the same result: a woman with a less than savory reputation comes to Jesus while he is at table with important people. The woman throws herself on the mercy of Jesus, and even though the people around him are offended by the woman’s presence, Jesus receives her humility as a sign of her penitence, and accepts her fully.
There are a couple of ways we might approach this reading. One, of course, is from the point of this woman who comes to Jesus risking quite a lot. Not only does she bring expensive oil to anoint Jesus’ feet, but in doing so she crosses social and religious boundaries. So it’s no surprise when Simon the Pharisee says what he does about her reputation. All the same, this woman knew that Jesus could be found in that house, and she risked everything to be near him. Not even the religious authority, or social conventions could keep her away.
It’s really quite a lovely thing. For this woman, we can only guess at how she came to know Jesus’ reputation. Perhaps she heard something of what he taught in his travels—or maybe she witnessed one of his miracles—but for whatever the reason, she seeks Jesus. This woman’s longing is what Jesus then points out when he rebukes the Pharisees, and is exactly the reason he receives her gift of tears and oil as penance and satisfaction for her transgression. In the end, it was her response to God’s grace in Jesus which brought her.
As people who have responded to grace at some point in our own lives, it’s not hard to understand the woman’s reasoning for wanting to see Jesus. While none of us have had an experience quite like this, we nevertheless have had conversions in our hearts in response to God’s call to us.
But then we might ask ourselves where that zeal is today. What has happened to the person who could imagine nothing less than a full prayer life, and opportunity to discuss faith? It is true that we grow in spiritual maturity, but is there a chance that what we have settled into as spiritual maturity or religious modesty something more like complacency and safety? Could we ever imagine risking everything just to offer ourselves to Jesus Christ, now?
Then there is the other side of this story, which deals with Simon the Pharisee and his friends. It’s not surprising that they would recognize a woman with a bad reputation; they were the religious authority—they kept track of these things. However, in Simon’s judgment, he not only shows contempt for the woman, but Jesus as well—almost satirizing the prophetic ministry of Jesus. “Were this man truly a prophet, he would know that the woman touching him is a sinner—rabbis aren’t touched by sinners.”
While Simon is mostly right, what he misses in this moment is that this woman has offers is not only what Jesus would accept, but also what God requires—a contrite heart. But for Simon the Pharisee, and like anyone who is righteous in the sight of their religious observance, it is just too hard to see—to know whether or not this woman is for real. And more than social conventions, Simon knows the score—he’s been around long enough to know the people who will ask him for change to get food, and then buy a 40oz. Simon is probably well acquainted with every hard luck story and every down-and-outter in town. So, maybe it’s more than just the prickly hedge of social status and religious purity which gets him in trouble.
I know that this sounds familiar, because we see it here all the time. There’s no end to the phone calls and pleas for financial help without strings attached. People who would never darken the door of a church know that if they just go to the “C’s” in the yellow pages that they can find relief for their financial woes. And this is because the Church is a great target: people who say they believe in charity and good will and above all unconditional love.
But it’s not just the people who come looking for money. Maybe there are people who, while they might not have a reputation which precedes them, look different, dress different—perhaps they do not fit our framework for the “good Episcopalian type”.
My own experience in one particular Episcopal Church was like this. I know it’s a stretch of the imagination, but when I started attending the Episcopal Church I had long hair, wore sandals and jeans and t-shirts on Sunday mornings. In college, this was the norm—and there were a lot of us who were quite active in the nearby Episcopal parish. So when Charity and I moved back to Ohio after college, our first priority was to find a parish. After some searching, we found one that we felt had really good liturgy, and had a priest who seemed to have a real spiritual depth. He took to us, we took to him—but the parish had no idea what to do with me. Suddenly there was this new couple, and while the wife seemed nice, the husband really needed some work. No one but the priest spoke to us for a month or so—it was lucky that we liked the place, I guess, otherwise we would have been long gone.
Nevertheless, for all of my ‘not fitting their mold’, they later sponsored me for ordination, and here I am. How could they have known that I would discern my call to the priesthood with them? How could they have ever imagined that I would be their first ordinand put forward? Sure, there are still stories about how they “polished me up”, but the truth is that it was God who called us to be there, whether they trusted that or not.
What I think that all of us miss at some point is that God is always the one who calls us to be in community. Even more, sometimes we forget that Jesus really does have the power to forgive all of our debts, no matter how big, or how bad we think they are…
What is so powerful about the Church, as the family which Jesus has redeemed, we are a place where people only have to look in the “C’s” in the yellow pages to find relief for their financial woes. As debtors who know the score, we are a place for people who would never darken our door, but know that they can find help, no strings attached. And while we do need to be careful and discerning, we really must be a people who believe in charity, good will and unconditional love.
It’s a little easier to try and see ourselves as this woman who stops at nothing to come to Jesus—defying odds just to offer her gift. But if we understand Jesus as something of a mirror which shows us our true selves: is our reflection more like Simon the Pharisee? This isn’t judgment—after all, both debtors in the parable had been forgiven their debts. It’s just up to us to truly believe that Jesus is able and willing to truly forgive all our debts—no matter who we are…
There are a couple of ways we might approach this reading. One, of course, is from the point of this woman who comes to Jesus risking quite a lot. Not only does she bring expensive oil to anoint Jesus’ feet, but in doing so she crosses social and religious boundaries. So it’s no surprise when Simon the Pharisee says what he does about her reputation. All the same, this woman knew that Jesus could be found in that house, and she risked everything to be near him. Not even the religious authority, or social conventions could keep her away.
It’s really quite a lovely thing. For this woman, we can only guess at how she came to know Jesus’ reputation. Perhaps she heard something of what he taught in his travels—or maybe she witnessed one of his miracles—but for whatever the reason, she seeks Jesus. This woman’s longing is what Jesus then points out when he rebukes the Pharisees, and is exactly the reason he receives her gift of tears and oil as penance and satisfaction for her transgression. In the end, it was her response to God’s grace in Jesus which brought her.
As people who have responded to grace at some point in our own lives, it’s not hard to understand the woman’s reasoning for wanting to see Jesus. While none of us have had an experience quite like this, we nevertheless have had conversions in our hearts in response to God’s call to us.
But then we might ask ourselves where that zeal is today. What has happened to the person who could imagine nothing less than a full prayer life, and opportunity to discuss faith? It is true that we grow in spiritual maturity, but is there a chance that what we have settled into as spiritual maturity or religious modesty something more like complacency and safety? Could we ever imagine risking everything just to offer ourselves to Jesus Christ, now?
Then there is the other side of this story, which deals with Simon the Pharisee and his friends. It’s not surprising that they would recognize a woman with a bad reputation; they were the religious authority—they kept track of these things. However, in Simon’s judgment, he not only shows contempt for the woman, but Jesus as well—almost satirizing the prophetic ministry of Jesus. “Were this man truly a prophet, he would know that the woman touching him is a sinner—rabbis aren’t touched by sinners.”
While Simon is mostly right, what he misses in this moment is that this woman has offers is not only what Jesus would accept, but also what God requires—a contrite heart. But for Simon the Pharisee, and like anyone who is righteous in the sight of their religious observance, it is just too hard to see—to know whether or not this woman is for real. And more than social conventions, Simon knows the score—he’s been around long enough to know the people who will ask him for change to get food, and then buy a 40oz. Simon is probably well acquainted with every hard luck story and every down-and-outter in town. So, maybe it’s more than just the prickly hedge of social status and religious purity which gets him in trouble.
I know that this sounds familiar, because we see it here all the time. There’s no end to the phone calls and pleas for financial help without strings attached. People who would never darken the door of a church know that if they just go to the “C’s” in the yellow pages that they can find relief for their financial woes. And this is because the Church is a great target: people who say they believe in charity and good will and above all unconditional love.
But it’s not just the people who come looking for money. Maybe there are people who, while they might not have a reputation which precedes them, look different, dress different—perhaps they do not fit our framework for the “good Episcopalian type”.
My own experience in one particular Episcopal Church was like this. I know it’s a stretch of the imagination, but when I started attending the Episcopal Church I had long hair, wore sandals and jeans and t-shirts on Sunday mornings. In college, this was the norm—and there were a lot of us who were quite active in the nearby Episcopal parish. So when Charity and I moved back to Ohio after college, our first priority was to find a parish. After some searching, we found one that we felt had really good liturgy, and had a priest who seemed to have a real spiritual depth. He took to us, we took to him—but the parish had no idea what to do with me. Suddenly there was this new couple, and while the wife seemed nice, the husband really needed some work. No one but the priest spoke to us for a month or so—it was lucky that we liked the place, I guess, otherwise we would have been long gone.
Nevertheless, for all of my ‘not fitting their mold’, they later sponsored me for ordination, and here I am. How could they have known that I would discern my call to the priesthood with them? How could they have ever imagined that I would be their first ordinand put forward? Sure, there are still stories about how they “polished me up”, but the truth is that it was God who called us to be there, whether they trusted that or not.
What I think that all of us miss at some point is that God is always the one who calls us to be in community. Even more, sometimes we forget that Jesus really does have the power to forgive all of our debts, no matter how big, or how bad we think they are…
What is so powerful about the Church, as the family which Jesus has redeemed, we are a place where people only have to look in the “C’s” in the yellow pages to find relief for their financial woes. As debtors who know the score, we are a place for people who would never darken our door, but know that they can find help, no strings attached. And while we do need to be careful and discerning, we really must be a people who believe in charity, good will and unconditional love.
It’s a little easier to try and see ourselves as this woman who stops at nothing to come to Jesus—defying odds just to offer her gift. But if we understand Jesus as something of a mirror which shows us our true selves: is our reflection more like Simon the Pharisee? This isn’t judgment—after all, both debtors in the parable had been forgiven their debts. It’s just up to us to truly believe that Jesus is able and willing to truly forgive all our debts—no matter who we are…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)