The Banquet in Ashes, A Terrible Parable

 

                 My dad is from International Fall Minnesota, the real-world analog to Frostbite Falls—the fictional town where the Rocky and Bulwinkle Show cartoon took place…

Which means, among other things, my family has a particular fondness for that old show.

There is a regular segment in it, “Fractured Fairytales” where classic fairytales are retold in bizarre ways:
-princes marrying dragons,
-big bad wolves with anxiety,
-Sleeping Beauties commodifying their condition
—in some ways it was the precursor to the Shrek movies.

                And Jesus’ parables in the Temple, as recorded in Matthew, might fit well in the Rocky and Bulwinkle Show
—perhaps they would call the segment “Preposterous Parables”,
or when considering today’s parable in particular
—Terrible Parables.

                Listen to the way these stories escalate,
as Jesus tries to open the imaginations of the Temple Authorities
by telling more and more funny, fractured, frightening stories:

                -Let me tell you the one about the sons
who say one thing and do another.

                -Let me tell you the one about the tenants
who kill their landlord’s son,
because they think that’ll make them heirs.

                -Let me tell you the one about an awful wedding feast
that ends in a banquet of ash,
an abundant invitation
that ends up with outer darkness and teeth grinding.

                Preposterous Parables…
terrible parables.

 

Prayer

                A Terrible Parable, this banquet in ashes…

                When we experience God’s reign,
it can be like being invited to the feast for a Prince
—the sort of thing that lasts multiple days—perhaps even multiple weeks
—it’s like 2 weeks off, not just paid vacation, but paid time and a half.
The sort of soiree that might be the highlight of your life,
a chance of a lifetime.

                And instead, you refuse.
In the world of the parable, this is an act of disloyalty to the King,
a dismissal of the Prince as rightful heir.
Further more, there is the mocking, mistreating, and murder of the King’s men.
An open rebellion, put down with siege and destruction.
Then a new set of RSVPs sent out after the war
—invite everyone to a banquet in the ashes.

 

                (It feels like Matthew’s community holds this parable so tightly, that it gets a little squished in the re-telling—Read Luke 14:15-24 sometime, if you want to read the gentler version.)

                Matthew’s folk hold this story so tightly, because they are ministering and telling people about Jesus after the war,
after a rebellion against Rome,
after the siege and destruction of Jerusalem—the temple turned to ash.

Their own story, after the war,
is about the ending of the Temple, and everyone, be they:
Elite Sadducees or People of the Land,
A Particular Pharisee from Tarsus or a Persian Gentile,
Essene from the Dead Sea or Greek Cynics
—all of them, called into a generous and once in a lifetime banquet,
the Church, the Body of the Risen Christ
—their reality as a community is a blessed banquet in the midst of the ashes of what once was.

                Their community a mixed body—containing all sorts of different people,
sifting through the words of Jesus wondering:

“What do we do now?
Things can’t be the same…
we must not repeat the mistakes of the Temple Authorities and the Religious Elite
—no weird nationalisms that end in burning capitals,
no self-satisfied temple appreciation clubs
—how do we wear our wedding robes?
How do we make sure not to repeat the foolish mistakes of our fore parents of the faith?

                How do we live a life worthy of the high calling as Children of God?
How do we be good guests?
What horrible thing would make us refuse to enter into the joy of the banquet?
What a sin, if we enter in and then sit on the far side of the feast,
arms crossed, pouting, and oblivious to the good things God is doing.”

 

                Certainly Matthew and his flock were asking hard questions in the ashes,
this terrible parable brought out some prickly question marks for them.

                And so, it is worth asking Isaiah to speak to them as well–to give us some good news…
Because Isaiah also tells of a Banquet of the King
—one that is transformative,
one that speaks of God’s loyalty, fidelity, and faithfulness.

                When we experience God’s reign, it is like refuge and salve
—When Luther reads Isaiah 25 he is forced to exclaim, “Christ is our Asylum!”

                When we experience God’s reign—the Banquet is one where Death
—seen so often as the ultimate consumer of all things
—in Canaanite mythology Death is a cosmic crocodile consuming universe after universe
—Death is swallowed up, the Eater eaten,
the End of All Things, becoming a mere highlight of a meal.

When we experience God’s reign,
we can embrace a trusting sort of patience, assured of our salvation
—there is shelter in the storm, there is relief from hurt,
there is a new trajectory, because when Death is not the end,
our whole timeline is transformed.

 

For us, we need to pack all that Gospel that Isaiah gives us, into the Terrible Parable of Matthew.
So that when life feels like a fractured fairytale,
filled with cartoonish absurdities…
when even cold comforts and small hopes turn into ash…
we aren’t overwhelmed or undone.

In the midst of the ashes
(and I know there are plenty us here who are in the ashes today)
we can be assured that:
-through Jesus Christ God gives us life out of death,
-God’s reign is the kind of meal that is grace all the way down…
-we get to enter into that joy,
-we get to live a life worthy of our Baptismal calling,
-we get to taste and see that the Lord is good. Amen.

Jesus’ Unfinished Parable

 

            I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again
—Parable are stories told about one thing, to make a point about another…
stories that aren’t easily digestible,
instead parables are stories that sit with you for a while
—you need to chew on them, until they start to chew on you.

            Now today’s parable is a curious one
—the only story Jesus doesn’t finish…
it is Jesus’ unfinished parable.

Let us pray

 

            My sacred imagination (or perhaps my sense of humor) always hears parables as a comedian setting up a joke:
“Have you heard the one about the landowner who planted a vineyard, put up a fence, dug a wine press, built a watch-tower…”

            “Why yes, yes we have, Jesus,” I imagine Peter saying,
“It’s Isaiah’s parable about the vineyard that produces rotten fruit…
It is Isaiah’s creative way of looking at his society and saying,
‘All is not well here.’”

God lovingly cultivated a relationship with his people,
gave the Laws of Moses,
reluctantly agreed to anoint David and his line as king,
accompanied his people through thick and thin
—Idolatries, Invasions, Injustice…
as things got worse God sent the prophets, who would again and again call the people back to faithfulness…
and yet, somehow, for all the pleasant planting,
justice was jilted and produced bloodshed,
seeds of righteousness yielded horrific fruit.

I’d imagine most nations could fit our own life together into such a story.
Here in the US our laws were planted to bring forth the fruits of
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness…
yet there have certainly been times when:
-our strange fruit has been death dealing,
-we’ve grown weeds that are constraining, confining, and repressive,
-we’ve accidentally (or God help us intentionally) planted gardens of sorrow and sadness.

Yes, Isaiah speaks of bad seed.

 

And Jesus tells a similar parable
—or at least starts to…
it’s like Isaiah’s story, but with one key difference
—instead of focusing on the vineyard,
he focuses on the tenants,
the renters tasked with caring for the land…
people who are supposed to be good stewards of the land.
People who, unfortunately, confused stewardship with ownership.

They see themselves as owning the vineyard
—leaders who see themselves as owning the people of God.
Folks who confuse people with things
—who turn their neighbors into objects,
who don’t recognize that God’s image is firmly pressed on all of our siblings
—your neighbor belongs to God!
In fact, all of this belongs to God!

Imagine how we’d treat each other,
if we knew that the other person belongs to God!
Imagine how grateful we would be if we understood ourselves as stewards not owners
—Perhaps we would be caught up in gratitude
—wow, it is all a gift!

 

            Jesus tells of the landlord
sending servants to collect what is owed him,
and these tenants,
who are owners in their own mind
—these bad stewards
—proceed to do violence to the servants,
beating, killing, stoning them…
their bodies, one imagines,
become compost and fertilizer for the garden…

            So, the Landowner sends his son,
who the tenants plot against
—they seize him, throw him outside the vineyard walls, and execute him there…
and Jesus then asks, “What will the landowner do to these tenants?”

 

            And here’s the thing we easily get wrong about this parable…
if we don’t read carefully,
we imagine the response by the religious leaders is Jesus’ response,
Jesus’ ending to the story…
but in point of fact, the next words are those of the religious leaders.
Their response is:
“Kill ‘em and take their stuff.”
“Retaliation!”
“Respond to hate with hate.”

            These are not Jesus’ words, to be clear.
Not his ending,
but the ending written by the Religious Authorities.
This is not the Kingdom of God.
An eye for an eye is not Jesus’ way.
Replacing “Turn the other cheek” with a slap fight, is not of God…

It is also not the proper response of wider Judaism either
—as Rabbi Hillel taught around the same time as Jesus was teaching:
“What is hateful to you,
do not do to your neighbor.”

            Yes, the golden rule that is common across cultures and religions
is ignored by these religious leaders who respond to Jesus,
and by their own words they condemn themselves,
as they have sewn, so shall they reap.

Their judgement, “put those wretches to a miserable death and find other tenants.” It is like the Prophet Nathan’s condemnation of King David for the Rape of Bathsheba… Nathan describes for David a despicable man who steals sheep,
and David goes berserk with condemnation,
and Nathan drops the truth bomb saying, “You are that man.”

And so, Jesus’ story about the vineyard ends,
turning down the Religious Leaders’ dead end…
The parable is left unfinished…

 

Unfinished at least in words
—but the story is finished in Jesus’ own body.
After this extended back and forth with the religious authorities in Jerusalem,
Jesus embodies this story…
instead of simply a parable,
a story pointing to a reality
—he lives the story into reality,
so that the story of Stewardship and Grace
might be told to the whole wide world!

               Have you heard the one about the landowner,
who deeply loved his vineyard,
poured himself into it,
leased it to tenants,
sent servants to collect the fruits of his labor:
Jeremiah was thrown down a well,
Isaiah ridiculed,
John beheaded
—then God sent his son, Jesus.

              The Son was seized,
taken outside the walls of Jerusalem—that vineyard,
and executed there.

            But that’s not the end of the story
—the rejected stone, becomes the cornerstone.
Nothing, not even Sin, Death, and the Devil, can overcome it.

            The Son did not stay dead.

            He interceded with the Landowner.
He uproots the Religious Authority’s recommended “miserable death”
and plants life.
He renews every garden and vineyard,
transforming hate into peace,
pride into love,
loss into hope,
sorrow into salvation…

His Spirit tirelessly gathers and produces good fruit.

Amen.

Christian Authority is Humility

 

                After Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey,
and symbolically cleanses the temple by chasing out the money changers and declaring, “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you make it a robbers’ den!”
They come to him, faction after faction of the Jerusalem Elite, asking:
“By what authority? Who gave you this authority?”
Why do you do this? Who told you to do it? How did you decide to do what you’ve done?
By what authority?

                These sorts of questions are not reserved for that heightened moment in Jesus’ life,
they are questions Matthew’s community is clearly asking itself,
and a question for us today as well.

                A question, Jesus cleverly does not answer…
at least not directly.

A question answered by the earliest church in the form of a song
—a song Paul quotes as pertinent to the Christian community in Phillipi,
A song the Church saw fit to save and savor as Scripture.

                The answer to that Authority question is that,
for both Jesus Christ and we Christians,
our authority is found in humility.

                Christian authority is found in humility.

Let us pray

 

                “By what authority?”

                Does it come from heaven?
—if so, that’s certainly a hard claim to verify,
and certainly doesn’t hold up to the acid wash of modernity,
or the unraveling of post-modernity.

                Does it come from humanity?
—human reason, or holding a vote…
if so, that’s a meandering sort of authority,
one so very quickly caught up in personality and will to power.

                Like the first brother in Jesus’ parable, Does it come from the words of our lips?
—do our words have a sort of innate authority to them?
down that road lies:
the quicksand of hypocrisy,
the sharp stubby branches of shibboleths,
and the shadow valleys of magic words and magical thinking.

                Or perhaps Christian authority is the authority of the second brother,
Does it come from our deeds, the works of our hands?
—if so, we better have strong hands to the end,
and beyond the end, no weakness there
—we better hope that people interpret our actions correctly,
or they won’t know the source of the good that we do.

 

                No—none of these things are where either Christ or Christians derive our authority. No, Christian authority is found in humility.
As Paul quotes:

“He did not grasp.
He emptied himself.
Became human-shaped,
slave formed,
reduced to death,
executed on a criminal’s cross.”

Humility—a sign of Christ,
and Paul insists, a sign of the Church as well.

                I was reading a Greek-geek describing the word Paul uses for humility,
and the scholar said something to the effect of:
“If only there was a word in English for humility that expressed
being on the underside, pushed down, down and out.”

Humiliated.
That’s the word he was looking for.

No one likes to be humiliated
—just saying the word conjures up:
images of childhood traumas and mistakes,
instances of exclusion,
being called out, or left behind.

But, one of my all-time favorite quotes, from Theologian Howard Thurman is, “Humility can never be humiliated.”

Paul knew something about that
—After all, he imprisoned when he wrote this letter about Christ’s humility
—he writes what many people call “Paul’s letter of Joy.”
His authority, derived from a humility that transcended humiliation.

 

While Jesus is indirect when answering the Elders and Chief Priests—humility is his answer.
He rides on a donkey not a war horse,
turns over tables instead of taking a cut.
Along with John, Jesus ministers to and uplifts Prostitutes and Tax Collectors
—outsiders of all sorts,
those humiliated and captured by the structures of both Rome and Jerusalem
—they are given relief
and their humiliation is transformed into humility.

Outsiders, the ones who can, with a stark realism, recognize and testify to what Christ has given to them.
A lighthouse is most needed by the ship in a storm,
a true friend most appreciated by the friendless and distressed.
Fear and trembling most keenly felt when none but God gets you through.

 

Humility allows us to name our faults and failings,
name our needs and weaknesses
—and witness,
point to,
tell other people about
—the ways Christ has brought us through and gives us hope!
It is the catalyst to authenticity—which alone makes our witness believable.
We can’t pass on a faith that never changed us.

And also, humility is, as Paul writes, the stuff of community,
it is only when selfishness is slayed and self-interest is put away
—that we can care for each other.

Think of the allegory of the long spoon
—a story told in multiple cultures and faiths (everyone from Rabbis and Church Fathers to Charles Dickens to Tzuang-tsa?):

A man reaches a turning point in his life,
he can choose to serve his community or make a quick buck.
He goes to sleep, and an angel takes him first to hell and then to heaven.

In hell
there are groups of people chained around pots of delightful chili,
but all they have to eat with are spoons with handles too long to reach their own lips
—so they spend eternity around a sumptuous meal none can eat,
growing so frustrated that they regularly poke at each other with their long spoons.

Then he is taken to heaven,
where he finds groups of people chained around pots of delightful chili,
and all they have to eat with are spoons with handles too long to reach their own lips
—and they spend eternity feeding each other the best of food.

 

Humility
—it is the stuff of authentic witness
and a building block of community.

A vaccine for humiliation
and a permission slip for clarifying honesty.

Humility
—the way of our Lord,
and the source of authority for we Christians.
Sung by imprisoned apostles,
and our marching orders
as we leave this church building today. Amen.

Passover: Passing on the Faith

 

 

                There have been some fairly major deaths in the last week or so
—voice actor Peter Cullen, Singer Dolly Parton, Actor Tim Curry, Norway’s King Harald V, Writer & Farmer Wendell Berry, and Feminist Icon Gloria Steinem.
Inevitably when you read their obituaries there is a consideration of their legacy
—What did they leave behind?
What did they pass on?

                And, in our first lesson today
—the giving of Passover as a Perpetual Ordinance
—we find one of the most famous examples of something being passed on. The Story of God’s salvation… Faith being passed on… ultimately, it becomes about something more than remembering the past.
Instead re-membering God’s acts,
putting the faith together again, so that it can be passed on
—passed forward.

                Revealing his innate conservativism, Wendell Berry once wrote: “The past is our definition. We may strive with good reason to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it. But we will escape it only by adding something better to it.”

                That’s what a living tradition is, that’s the goal of passing on the faith; to make of it something better, to hand off something that is intelligible to the present and serviceable to faithful folk in the future.

                Yes, Passover is about passing on faith.

Let us pray

 

                Any millennial will tell you that there are many reason to PASS, on faith—as in to skip it all together.
Everything from hypocrisies and abuses,
churches identifying with partisan causes, vibes being off, and so many choices each moment of our life that religion seems far too limiting and corrosive…

                But my generation is surely not the first one to struggle with such things…
for example, if you read between the lines, Matthew’s Gospel is written to a community struggling with abuses and factionalism
—these rules we read about today: widening, with an intentional gentleness, the conversation, when someone is hurt
—they are rules so that the powerless may receive recompense
—that the little ones (Jesus likely still has that child on his lap from earlier in the gospel) can find an advocate for them if someone in power is hurting them.

                For that matter, wrestling with legacy is embedded in the Exodus story
—Pharoah after all is using and abusing the Hebrews to build monuments to himself and to Egypt’s Royal past. Carved in stone and never to change…

 

                But Pharoah is confronted with an interesting alternative,
a more meaning laden way to build a legacy.
“Share a meal in community and tell the story of your salvation!
That’ll last for thousands of years!
That’ll transform lives generation to generation!”

                This story leads to both our Holy Communion (an innovation unimaginable to Aaron and Moses),
and also the Seder meal
—a much more elaborate festival than the literal words of Exodus 12
—a ritual still changing, still innovating,
from generation to generation,
continent to continent,
culture to culture.

                In addition to (and perhaps because) Matthew’s telling of the Jesus story is sanded against the grain of conflict and abuse, it also has an
innovative, changeable, contextual edge to it. For example:
-he records Jesus saying to the disciples, “Because you understand my parables, they now belong to you to use and interpret as you see fit.”
-Likewise—in today’s Gospel lesson—he records Jesus empowering and passing on both prayer and the ministry of binding and loosing to the disciples and those who will hear the Good News.

Matthew’s Gospel is written to be passed on, shared, let go of, and given to someone new
—given to those little ones who will find hope and relevance in them,
able to face unimaginable changes in an ongoing faithful way.
Not “The Church of What’s Happening Now” but a Church who can stay faithful, come what may.

 

                “So spill it, Pastor. How do we pass on the faith?”
Community and practice.

Community—gather together in families and household and with your neighbors… so that there are models of the faith…

If you look at all the large interview laden studies of the faith life of young people,
you find very quickly that religious young people stayed or became religious,
because they had examples of “Religion done right.”
People (and not just parents) who they could look up to and say:
“Yeah… I could do something like that.”
“Yeah, grandma is real about her faith.”
“Yeah, Uncle Pete isn’t blowing smoke.”
“Yeah, so and so sure loves Jesus—and I do to!”

Practice—faith is both caught and taught.
Do the thing, then reflect on it,
experience, then explain.

Have a habit of faith, religious rituals
—and also play the faith,
be so comfortable with it that you can bubble up with laughter about it…
as Chesterton once quipped, “It is the test of a good religion whether you can joke about it.”

Be curious and creative, encourage the asking of questions
—even impertinent ones!
Be soaked in scripture and sacraments
—so that when you are wrung out like a sponge, you’re still swimming in the sea of faith.

Think of how Luther hoped the Small Catechism was to be taught
—the whole household together at supper memorizing and discussing the 10 Commandments, the Creed, and Lord’s Prayer.
Whole congregations gathered 4 times a year to do the same.
Community and practice.

 

                Faith is not Pharoah’s pristine monuments,
unchanging save decay and damage
—"a colossal wreck boundless and bare.”

No, it is a legacy like a donated organ,
or Wisdom dispensed as a story told over a family meal,
or a song sung in church and hummed at home and at work,
doors opened and opportunities preserved,
the ground of grace to stand on as everything else is shifting sand.

“Dear friend, wow, I know of a God who saves!
Fellow sinners, there is so much forgiveness here!
Starving masses—there is bread aplenty!
Lost strangers poorly wandering, there is a Way!

All you disconsolate, there is hope; there is a future.”

Amen.

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy

 

          There is a shift in Paul’s letter to the Romans that occurs here, in chapter 12 that we just read.
Some people describe it as a move from the Theological to the Ethical,
some go so far as to say today’s reading begins a commentary on Jesus’ sermon on the Mount
—this begins a section describing how those blessings are now found wherever Christians gather…

          Paul starts off this section by telling us that:

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy

Prayer

 

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy

A Transformed Life

          “Presenting your bodies as a living sacrifice is a reasonable act of worship.”

          Reasonable.
Some translators try to soften this,
putting the emphasis on the rightness of the worship…
but sometimes…
often even…
Paul says jarring things!

          The Greek word Paul is using is about reason
—A Living Sacrifice is logical…
and it is not…
A living sacrifice is illogical
—the point of sacrifice is the destruction of a thing,
killing of the victim,
to fulfill an obligation,
or cause something to happen.

          There is an If/Then logic to sacrifice
—if I burn some grain,
then I’ve discharged my duty.
If I slaughter an animal,
then the Heavens will look with favor upon me,
we even do that in society today;
if I demonize the scapegoat to the point of destruction,
then we don’t have to look our problems in the face…
at least for a while.

          A living sacrifice is illogical
—or rather there is a different sort of logic to such a sacrifice
—a foolish sort of logic to the eyes of the world…
but to we who find our very lives to be in Christ…
surely, we can be holy fools,
compellingly strange to the eyes of the world.
If Christ is both Crucified and Lord—and he is
—then the logic of the forces that crucified him,
the logic of piety and the logic of power
—they don’t amount to a hill of beans.

          Because the logic of the resurrection is a sort of reversal of sacrifice
—an obligation already fulfilled brings life—new life!
An act done in advance creates… it is a new creation!

Therefore, reasonable worship is transformation!
Reasonable worship is discerning what God is up to and how you can be involved! Reasonable worship is participation in a new creation, it is new life!

 

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy

Together

Reasonable worship isn’t a solo endeavor. Paul’s letters, and ancient letters in general, aren’t written to individuals, but communities
—most of those times Paul writes, “You” it’s actually plural:
“Y’all, or You’se guys, or in certain parts of Pennsylvania, Yins.”

Discernment—ought to be done in community.
I think of my wife’s tradition
—the Society of Friends (Quakers)
—they create “clearness committees”
when someone thinks God is calling them to certain tasks…
such discernment is a group effort!

So too us Lutherans, with our “mutual conversation and consolation of brothers”
yes, when our conscience hurts or is in pain, we can turn to wise siblings of the faith to move us from death to life
—external voices are often the ones who can rightfully see the gifts God has given us to meet the greatest needs of our time…

God’s callings upon our life are not only, or even primarily, internal,
but also external…
not just a vaguely warm feeling in our hearts (after all that might be the venison curry and coffee talking), but someone saying, “you know what you’d be good at!”

An external voice can make all the difference…
I think about my own calling to the ministry of Word and Sacrament…
I was struggling, wrestling, with the strange idea that God might be calling me to be a Pastor…
and I turned to my pastor, Pastor Sarah.

I did so incredulous and embarrassed by my own sense of call
—my plan at the time was to do AmeriCorps and become a teacher,
and her response was a holy, “Well duh! What other teenager organized a weekly theological discussion group at a local fast-food joint?”

          Yes, we can name one another’s gifts and be transformed together,
-some gifted with cheerfulness are called to acts of compassion,
-others graced with a teacher’s spirit teach,
and so on…
See how the great variety of vocations we’ve been given collectively as a church, add up to something more!
Joined to Christ in Baptism,
discovering the gifts God has already given us…
we, though many, are one body in Christ.

 

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy

Flows from God’s Mercy

          All faithful acts proceed from God’s mercy!
It is mercy first, last, and always!
None of this our doing
—all of it flowing from God’s myriad of good acts for all those He loves!
Creation, Redemption, Holy Sustenance
—saved from and saved for
—saved from captivity, saved for a free faithful life in Jesus Christ.

          Lest we start to get ideas of us making the world right on our own,
without the Spirit’s calling
—we need to turn back to the first 11 chapters of Romans.
In a sense, this section of Romans is, the “So What” of God’s grace
—the Therefore
of chapter 1-11s Because.

          Because God acts first,
because God is generous,
because Jesus is Lord,
because the Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words…
therefore together we are living, in starts and stops surely, living this transformed life.

          Because of God’s triumphant victory over the Devil and all his empty promises,
therefore we can be confident that Jesus Christ is trustworthy!
Because Death could not hold Christ and we are jointed to his resurrected life,
therefore we live life anew.
Because we are saved from Sin by God’s radical ongoing forgiveness,
therefore we can be a forgiving people.

A Transformed Life Together Flows from God’s Mercy.      

Dear friends, may these words be more than the hinge between sections of an ancient letter,
may they be written by God in us.
Amen.

Sermon: The Mythopoetics of Peter & Elijah

            I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Hollywood is ecstatic,
for the first time since Covid, people are REALLY going back to the movies…
and not just any movie…
Christopher Nolan’s adaption of Homer’s Odyssey
—a tale nearly 3,000 years old…

            And people want more! They’re turning back to the Original Ancient Greek Poem;
there is even something of a pop-culture fight over which English translation of the Odyssey is the best…
Classists and English Teachers
are being thrust into Tik-Tock battles and culture wars…

In this moment, the culture has a taste for the mythopoetic
—a concept popularized by J.R.R. Tolkien author of Lord of the Rings…
Mythopoetics
—art that expresses a heightened reality, tells primordial stories, speaks to order and meaning…
we’re hungry for it…

 

And today, both Elijah and Peter are found in a similar place to King Odysseus
—caught in mythopoetic storms and Theophanic assaults…

faced with a reality so much bigger than themselves,
they are transformed,
so they can be who they need to be
in their life made new.

Prayer

 

            At first blush, Peter meeting Jesus in the storm can seem, merely, like choppy water and superstition.
But Matthew wants us to hear ancient biblical echoes (that in turn echo even earlier stories) in his Gospel.
The boat Peter is on is being battered—tormented
—by Sea—by chaos itself, primeval chaos
—Tohu vaBohu in Genesis
—Formless & Void,
Disordered & Uncreated…
that which defies Creation and Creator.

And not only that, “It’s a ghost!”
A Phantom, a Shade stalking the space between death & life
—a thing that goes bump in the night and raise the hairs on the back of your neck
—this is intense!

Death and Chaos meet Peter, at least that’s his initial experience of it.

To this Jesus responds, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
“It is I”, a phrase harkening back to the Hebrew Bible
—I AM
—the name God offers Moses from the burning bush.

“In so far as you are I AM, command me to step onto Chaotic Waters” Peter asks of Jesus, stepping out into the mythopoetic storm.

 

Likewise, Elijah,
having defeated the Prophets of Ba’al and escaped with his life,
hears a voice of God, and lists off his extreme zeal:
-he alone is faithful Israel,
-upholding their end of the covenant,
-still worshipping after everyone else has left the building,
-and is the last prophet.

In essence he’s saying: “O’ Lord! I’m holding the whole of your people on my back.”

And he is sent to see God as God passes by.

There is dreadful wind, just like in Genesis
—“God’s wind swept over the waters.”

Then there is earthquake
—just like in Psalm 29, where God makes things quake so much that the mountain ranges of Lebanon and Sirion skip
like shaky knob kneed infant animals.

            Finally, there is fire
—like Moses’ bush or like the fire that fell and defeated the Prophets of Ba’al…

            These intense images of God showing up
—Theophanies—profoundly frightening encounters with a God who is
truly other, strangely holy… awesome and awful.

            But God is in none of those things
—God meets him in sheer silence, A Still Small Voice. Thin Quiet.

            (Pause)

 

            This silence subverts expectations
—God is strange in a different way than we thought…
God in a small silent moment…
a clarifying silence where there is nothing
—Rock Bottom perhaps
—a time where hope is all you got.

 

            Probably the most famous scene in the Odyssey is the one with the cyclopes.
Poly-phemus, the cyclopes, askes Odysseus his name,
and he replies, “Odyss”—No One.
And after their confrontation the Cyclopes shouts, “No one has blinded me,”
and his brethren do not come to his aid…
because “Odyss” blinded him…

So too God’s name: “I AM.”
In the ancient world, names had a power to them, like magic,
know the name, know the person or thing
—know the name, it owes you something,
the deity is within your grasp…

But the one who is and was and is to come
—the one who exists and is existence…
that’s a GOD—not an idol…

 

-Elijah overselling his righteousness
only to find that God is there in the lonely silence…
-Peter… afraid and courageous, doubtful and called…
there on the water with nothing holding him up except a little buoyancy and trust in the one who walks upon chaotic waters and catches those afraid of death—Jesus, savior of those who doubt…

 

Both are changed
changed to return to everyday life,
but it is no longer ordinary.

Out of the silence, Elijah goes back home,
where 7,000 faithful people await his return
—New allies, new kings, new prophets—out of nothing,
that clarifying silence opens up trust and hope and a way forward.

Grasped and pulled up out of the water,
Peter’s little faith
—a starter kit faith
—a beginner’s faith
—is enough—like a mustard seed it grows.
“Save me!” is enough of a cry of faith!
His little faith culminates in a big confession,
“Truly you are the Son of God.”

 

In both The Odyssey and Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings
—these Mythopoetic works
—there is the end that is beyond the end
—The Hobbits go home and scourge the Shire,
Odysseus’ journey isn’t done when he arrives home, he still needs to reclaim his family and his life.
They return, but changed, and that change
—after encountering deeper reality, disorder and order on a cosmic scale
—transforms their return into a homecoming
—a reintegration,
a meaningful ending,
grounded and grateful.

 

So too, I pray,
when God draws us into the mystery of faith
may Christ refresh us and comfort us,
may we understand our day to day as extraordinary,
the very territory of God.
May we be transformed to be who we need to be in a life made new.
Amen.

Tasting the Feast

                 The Danish short story and movie Babette’s Feast…

is a story replete with themes and undercurrents that I have neither the cultural or historical knowledge to unpack…
but at base, it is a story of generosity and transformation.

It is the story of a quarrelsome pietist sect of Lutherans in the Juttlands,
a barren deserted strip of land
—who are transformed when a French cook, Babette, who has been living with them as a servant for 14 years, performs an act of profound generosity
—she spends a fortune, all she has, to cook the community a proper French meal,
the most sumptuous of feasts.

                Transformed too, Babette,
receiving from this community refuge and stability as her country is engulfed by chaos, revolutions and counter revolutions.

                Both Babette and the Pietist Community taste what it means that, “Mercy and truth have met together.”
Feast and community come together as something magical, holy, simply put, good.

               

The film makes me wonder about the sorts of feasts we partake in,
the meals we meet in life,
the sorts of communities we are formed by.  
I wonder about the feasts we have tasted.

 

Let us pray

 

                There are certainly feasts of Death and Dissatisfaction.
Before Jesus feeds the 5,000+, Herod holds his own banquet.
A tense meal, of that I’m sure.
Everyone walks on eggshells—even Herod…

Brittle bristling Herod, criticized by Jesus’ cousin John,
has thrown him in jail, and then,
at this party, to prove that he’s still in control, not some prophet,

Herod gets pushed into saving face by John losing his head…
holding onto power, even if it means beheading a prophet of God.

Not satisfied with doing the deed, Herod shows off, he brings the Baptist’s head to the buffet; the Prophet’s head is placed among the Hors d’oeuvres.

Yes, a grewsome feast, the sort of meal that runs counter to all those parables Jesus preaches about the Kingdom of God and its gentle fruitfulness.

 

And we’ve tasted such feasts, have we not?

I know there have been times when I’ve pour myself into blackholes,
all for nothing,
or for some sideways reason I could barely fathom even at the time…

Times when it almost seems like we want to reverse the proclamation of Isaiah so that it reads:
“Pay heavy price for frustration, spend like a drunken sailor to hollow out your stomach with hunger. Starve for evil and be disappointed in poor emptiness.”

Yes, there is always a tendency to try and shoehorn this world into “If/Then” paradigms
—If I do X, then you’ll do Y…
it’s simpler, easier to control…
at least until you get entangled in the inevitable tit-for-tat failures
that comes with the mindset of gnawing scarcity
and favors placed like traps.

 

                A bitter taste, all that…
but friends, there is also a “because/therefore” paradigm,
“Because I am a prophet of the God who offers water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, therefore eat what is good, delight in rich mercy.”
A faith founded on God acting first, last, and always.

                There is another feast
—Jesus, upon hearing of his cousin’s death, goes to a deserted place,
perhaps not unlike the Juttlands where Babette’s Feast took place.
He is fleeing, and he is mourning.
He goes there to be alone (at least that’s my Introvert reading of Jesus’ actions)
and is met with 5,000 men
—and probably four times that many people, when you count women and children—20,000,
each in their own deserted places,
their own sufferings and their own sicknesses…

                And Jesus Christ is moved in his flesh
—literally in his guts.

Isn’t that the ministry of God incarnate
—his whole life and ministry is God being moved in the flesh,
a God with guts!

The place where Jesus takes his sorrow, is transformed…
he transforms mourning into compassion.

Christ, moved in the flesh—offers that which is needed—the needful things of humanity
—healing sickness, hunger ending fish and bread.
Provision, a feast, even in awful times!

“We should send them away, right?”

“No, trust that God is a because/therefore God—give them something to eat!”

 

Hear me well, abundant, compassionate, grace filled feasts are not only possible, but the will of God!
Jesus does not flee in his mourning, but, like Moses or Elijah,
provides a meal, like Manna in the desert.

In that deserted, and then filled place,
Jesus prompts the Disciples to be good stewards
—coaxing a generosity that has an astonishing multiplying effect
—We have nothing…
yet somehow we have everything.
God is glorified when his bounty is received!

 

                The Kingdom of God, if you didn’t get it with his many stories
—Parables of:
-Sowers and wheat,
-mustard seeds and great hauls of fish,
-both buried treasure & pearls found in deserted fields
—is now described not with words, but with deeds.

The Kingdom is one man’s heavy heart, becoming healing for the many.

The Kingdom is Christ’s mourning, turning into recovery for the crowd.

The Kingdom is disciples claiming they have nothing, and Jesus showing them what they have.

The Kingdom is 5 loaves and 2 fishes, blessed, broken, shared with 20,000,
and so much abundance that there are leftovers!

 

                Blessed, broken, shared
—pointing to what is to come
—a feast of remembrance and renewal
—the making of an agreement between God and a people,
creating a community.
Remembering Passover,
re-membering, putting together again, a people
—a last meal that created a lasting community,
one that we belong to even today!

 

                A feast that points to the Eschatological Banquet
—the Great Feast at God’s Table at the Culmination of All Things;
where cups overflow and we dwell forever.
A feast we eat in anticipation of, every Sunday, when we gather and say, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

 

                There is a taste of it…
like Babette’s feast, when mercy and truth kiss, it is holy and good.

Friends, profound generosity and gathering community, blessed by God,
they become a transformative meal,
a Feast like no other.

Amen.

Four Titles for a Parable

            The other day I went to the door to get a package from the UPS guy, and he asked, “Are those Pawpaws?”

I proceeded to describe how I’d hoped they would bear fruit,
but, as of yet, they had not…
and immediately I noticed that
—somewhere between the last rain and the heatwave
—two of the three trees had borne fruit!

            And Jesus, faced with rejection and opposition of all sorts
—responds with a story about bearing fruit
—a story for the crowds and an explanation for his disciples.
A parable describing the great mystery of the Kingdom
—the reign of God…
Jesus tells the story in a way that we can come at God’s work sideways,
so that we can be
surprised, and challenged, and inspired by it!

            And, like all good stories,
how it is told, even the title
—sheds light on different aspects of what God is up to…
so today, I’ll be offering you four different titles, that will draw us into Jesus’ story in 4 different ways.

The parable of…
Four Soils,
Resplendent Seeds,
Sowing as we were sown,
and the Parable of the Extravagant Sower.

Let us pray.

 

            If this is a Parable of Four Soils, then it is about us,
us humans on the receiving end of the Good News.

            Sometimes we’re like the Religious Leaders of Jesus’ day
—the announcement of God’s acts in Jesus are snatched away.

            Sometimes we’re like The Crowds that regularly listen to Jesus
—fickle, fleeing at the first sign of trouble,
weighed down by worldly cares and greed
and going along to get along.

            Sometimes, however, we’re like the Disciples and other followers of Jesus,
we experience Jesus
—we catch his vision,
even if only partially,
even if our faith is o’ so weak
—we understand
—stand under, trust
—what God is doing, and wow! It bears so much fruit!

            Yes, we understand threats to the Gospel persist,
many fall away,
only a remanent remain
—and yet, God continues to act!

 

            If this is a Parable of Resplendent Seeds,
then we’re focused on the Gospel.

We’re focused on those seeds
—the announcement of God’s reign…
every time: the sick are saved, the imprisoned liberated, the meek and miserable ministered to, when preaching is genuinely good news
—that’s what God’s Rule is like!
And it packs a wallop!
Freedom, salve, salvation.

Yes, it may land on shallow soil or thorny ground, or a stony path—but that’s okay
—it also finds good soil, that’s the only thing that matters!
To quote Biblical Scholar Mark Allan Powell, “God takes opposition and apostasy into account, only a remnant is needed to constitute the Kingdom of God.”

            Pay no heed to all the times the gospel is wasted
—rejoice in the bountiful harvest,
trust that Isaiah’s words are true,
God’s Word “never returns empty.”

 

If, however, we title Jesus’ story The Parable of Sowing as we were Sown
then we’re describing evangelism.

            These seeds are sown by Christ,
which are then sown by the Disciples and the Earliest Church,
and sown again and again up to this present moment
—our sharing of Good News in deed and in word.

            When we evangelize it is darn important that we witness to Jesus, and witness like Jesus
—that is the mission and calling of the Church.
Mind your business!
The reproduction of what has been sown
—the effects of Jesus’ mission of compassion,
produces compassionate mission… or to quote Emil Brunner:
“The Church exists by mission, just as a fire exists by burning.”

            We must not be held captive by a scarcity mentality,
worried about wasting Good News,
seed landing where only the birds will benefit…
Not every seed needs to bear fruit, but every seed needs to be sown!
We can get so very choosy about where the seed lands,
or attempting to prepare the soil, that we forget to plant.

            Not every seed needs to bear fruit.
Try again! It isn’t futile!
Keep on keeping on!
Thow it against the wall and see what sticks!
There is much goodness is telling folk about Jesus, trying things, proclaiming in a plethora of ways!

 

            Finally, if this is The Parable of the Extravagant Sower
then it is about Jesus!

About the sort of savior we serve, the kind of friend we have in Jesus.
This parable is like the one in Luke’s Gospel about the Prodigal Son
—the Father who throws a party even after his son squanders half his belongings in a faraway land.

The Extravagant Sower is wasteful with his goodness
—absurdly un-strategic in his sewing—a 3/4^ths failure rate. Because! Because! The Method is the Message
—the All of it,
that the seed goes out to every type of soil
—it is an embodiment of God’s mercy!

            The explosive goodness of God goes to all…
as a side benefit it sometimes bears fruit,
that then sets off secondary chain reactions of Gospel,
that in turn keep that goodness flowing in endless fruitfulness…
but, at least in this telling of the parable, the sewing in all soil would be enough…
enough that God acts in ways that are mysteriously generous, intentionally over the top
—“My cup overflows” sort of gifts, feasts, a field of plenty,
enough and more than enough, from the Generous Sower.

 

            Sudden surprising fruitfulness,
like the fruit of the Parsonage Pawpaws popping up out of nowhere.
Images that overcome tough times with hope
—different ways to:
-dig into the Soil that is we humans,
-consider the seed that is the Good News announced and experienced,
-sowing itself akin to evangelism,
-that Sower—Lord Jesus,
O’ Sower of our souls.

Amen.