It seems simple enough. Begin with a prayer that others will join you in your ministry. Work in teams. Don’t get bogged down by stuff. You need to be free to move around. Offer God’s blessing. Offer God’s healing. Preach the Kingdom. Accept the material assistance that you need, but demand nothing more. Don’t bully anyone and don’t go where you aren’t welcome. Do not succumb to the belief that any of this is your doing. This is how, little by little, town by town, evil will be conquered and the Kingdom of God will be established. It seems that Jesus’ little seminary formation program laid out in Luke 10 ought to be easy enough to follow and yet failures abound.
Every day the news is filled with reports about the abuse of power and authority. Christian ministers have never been immune to this temptation. Money, fame, power, even on a small scale, work their woe among church leaders. And without wanting to suggest a great left wing conspiracy against religion in the media, there is certainly some gloating going on when religious leaders, particularly those on the right, are caught doing something wrong. As for most Christians, we feel some anger but mostly sadness when those religious leaders in whom we have put our trust, disappoint us. We are all too aware of the power of sin in the lives of our ministers and leaders and yet, except for the most cynical among us, we expect something better. For better or worse, we hold them to a higher standard.
Suppose though, that Jesus’ teaching on ministry isn’t just for ordained or professional ministers. What if what Jesus is talking about is really about discipleship and is addressed to all the baptized? Perhaps that higher standard to which we hold religious professionals was really a standard by which we should measure ourselves. I believe that in Jesus’ address to the seventy we find a key to living the Christian life that is available to everyone and which has the potential to change not only individual lives, but the whole world. Pray, work together, live simply, preach the Kingdom in word and deed and recognize that all you do and achieve is ultimately God’s grace at work in and through you.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 9:51-62)
In saying that Jesus had set his face to go to Jerusalem, the evangelist isn’t talking about just any trip to the holy city. Jesus has set his face on the cross. Many saints and theologians have suggested that the Gospels should be read through the lens of the cross. How much more so, then, these few passages on evangelism and discipleship which have been placed by the Gospel writer within the context of this journey?
At the risk of skating on some very thin ice, I would like to suggest some parallels between verses in this Gospel lesson and verses in Luke’s passion narrative. First there is Jesus’ unwillingness to deal harshly with the Samaritans who reject him. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Then there is Jesus’ response, first concerning the lack of a place for him to lay his head, and, secondly, his reference to the burial of the dead. “Then he (Joseph of Arimathea) took it (the body of Jesus) down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” And finally there are Jesus’ words to the would-be disciple who wants to say goodbye to his family. ” Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
The purpose of this little exercise is neither to be clever nor play fast and loose with the text. It is, rather, to make an important point. The way of Christian discipleship and evangelization is the way of the cross. The disciple/evangelist must expect rejection, poverty, alienation from family and friends, and, yes, perhaps even death. And in spite of this, he or she must embrace the call with determination and faithfulness. This is indeed a far cry from the so-called “prosperity gospel”.
At the risk of skating on some very thin ice, I would like to suggest some parallels between verses in this Gospel lesson and verses in Luke’s passion narrative. First there is Jesus’ unwillingness to deal harshly with the Samaritans who reject him. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Then there is Jesus’ response, first concerning the lack of a place for him to lay his head, and, secondly, his reference to the burial of the dead. “Then he (Joseph of Arimathea) took it (the body of Jesus) down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” And finally there are Jesus’ words to the would-be disciple who wants to say goodbye to his family. ” Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
The purpose of this little exercise is neither to be clever nor play fast and loose with the text. It is, rather, to make an important point. The way of Christian discipleship and evangelization is the way of the cross. The disciple/evangelist must expect rejection, poverty, alienation from family and friends, and, yes, perhaps even death. And in spite of this, he or she must embrace the call with determination and faithfulness. This is indeed a far cry from the so-called “prosperity gospel”.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 8:26-39)
So what it is that these folks were so afraid of? You might think that having someone around who could cure demonic possession would be thought of as a good think. But for the Gerasenes, not so much.
Tallahassee, like most cities in the U. S., has its share of homeless folks. Many of these people are possessed by the “demons” of mental illness and addiction. If someone could come along and “cure” this problem, wouldn’t we all be happy about that? I would have thought the answer would be an automatic “yes” but, after paying closer attention to the Gerasenes in this reading, I am not so sure anymore.
The real “demon” in the country of the Gerasenes was a fear of change. If Jesus could, in fact, heal people like this demoniac, then the world as they understood it was being turned on its side. If Jesus were to stick around town, what other changes might he make? More importantly, what demands would these changes make on the Gerasenes understandings of themselves as individuals and as a community? What demands would these changes make on their understanding of God?
Every Sunday, we (us) gather and, among other things, pray for the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill and all in any need (them). What if God were to suddenly answer our prayer in some dramatic way and a profound and permanent change was to happen in the lives of all the “them” we pray for? If they were to become healthy, self-sufficient, contributing members of a society, is it possible that we might lose our sense of privilege and blessedness? “There but for the grace of God go I” we say to ourselves as we hand over the spare change in our pockets. “God has really blessed me” we say as we deposit our pay check in the bank. Though we intend them as expressions of gratitude, they assume that the addict is not graced and that the panhandler is not blessed. Who are we to make such an assumption, particularly in the light of the Beatitudes?
Having people like the Gerasene demoniac around keeps us comfortable in our own sense of blessedness and, dare I say it, sense of entitlement. There might even be a secret little pleasure we feel in the guilt we experience when we think we have not done enough for the “them”. Most importantly, we cherish the safety we feel in the assurance that while our lives are not perfect, we’re better off than a lot of people. Maybe those Gerasene folks were right and it is better if Jesus stays away after all.
There is security for the “us” in having a “them”. This security is made manifest in our stubborn insistence that we are in charge of our life and that our health and prosperity are the result of something that we have done or, even better, something we deserve. We are also free to ignore the demons that haunt our lives. The Geresene demoniac was utterly dependent on the mercy of God given to him through Jesus. He had no resources of his own. He was, as the evangelist tells us, naked.
The truth is, we all stand naked before God in utter dependence. We desperately need Jesus to stand in our midst and tell us the truth about ourselves. It is only when we have known at the core of our being how much God has done for us in Jesus Christ that we can become the evangelists that we are called to be in baptism. We can join this healed man in proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus has done for us.
Tallahassee, like most cities in the U. S., has its share of homeless folks. Many of these people are possessed by the “demons” of mental illness and addiction. If someone could come along and “cure” this problem, wouldn’t we all be happy about that? I would have thought the answer would be an automatic “yes” but, after paying closer attention to the Gerasenes in this reading, I am not so sure anymore.
The real “demon” in the country of the Gerasenes was a fear of change. If Jesus could, in fact, heal people like this demoniac, then the world as they understood it was being turned on its side. If Jesus were to stick around town, what other changes might he make? More importantly, what demands would these changes make on the Gerasenes understandings of themselves as individuals and as a community? What demands would these changes make on their understanding of God?
Every Sunday, we (us) gather and, among other things, pray for the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill and all in any need (them). What if God were to suddenly answer our prayer in some dramatic way and a profound and permanent change was to happen in the lives of all the “them” we pray for? If they were to become healthy, self-sufficient, contributing members of a society, is it possible that we might lose our sense of privilege and blessedness? “There but for the grace of God go I” we say to ourselves as we hand over the spare change in our pockets. “God has really blessed me” we say as we deposit our pay check in the bank. Though we intend them as expressions of gratitude, they assume that the addict is not graced and that the panhandler is not blessed. Who are we to make such an assumption, particularly in the light of the Beatitudes?
Having people like the Gerasene demoniac around keeps us comfortable in our own sense of blessedness and, dare I say it, sense of entitlement. There might even be a secret little pleasure we feel in the guilt we experience when we think we have not done enough for the “them”. Most importantly, we cherish the safety we feel in the assurance that while our lives are not perfect, we’re better off than a lot of people. Maybe those Gerasene folks were right and it is better if Jesus stays away after all.
There is security for the “us” in having a “them”. This security is made manifest in our stubborn insistence that we are in charge of our life and that our health and prosperity are the result of something that we have done or, even better, something we deserve. We are also free to ignore the demons that haunt our lives. The Geresene demoniac was utterly dependent on the mercy of God given to him through Jesus. He had no resources of his own. He was, as the evangelist tells us, naked.
The truth is, we all stand naked before God in utter dependence. We desperately need Jesus to stand in our midst and tell us the truth about ourselves. It is only when we have known at the core of our being how much God has done for us in Jesus Christ that we can become the evangelists that we are called to be in baptism. We can join this healed man in proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus has done for us.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
3rd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 7:36 - 8:3)
This Gospel story is one of the most “sensual” passages in the New Testament. As such, it is an important reminder of the embodied nature of our Christian faith. It is all too easy and, for many, even desirable, to spiritualize this story. The physical contact between the woman and Jesus can be as scandalous for the modern preacher as it was for Jesus’ host in the story. This woman’s relationship with Jesus involves not only soul and spirit but the body as well.
This embodiment is at the heart of our experience of sacraments. The intimate physical acts of bathing and eating become the primary ways in which the Church encounters the Christ. And yet, as this story so powerfully reminds us, it is not these acts themselves that save us. It is faith in Jesus Christ which provides the context for the Church’s sacramental life and it is this same faith that brings us salvation.
There is so much more to say about this pericope. I am particularly interested in the feminist reading of text. That, unfortunately, will have to wait till another day due to a relentless work travel schedule this week.
This embodiment is at the heart of our experience of sacraments. The intimate physical acts of bathing and eating become the primary ways in which the Church encounters the Christ. And yet, as this story so powerfully reminds us, it is not these acts themselves that save us. It is faith in Jesus Christ which provides the context for the Church’s sacramental life and it is this same faith that brings us salvation.
There is so much more to say about this pericope. I am particularly interested in the feminist reading of text. That, unfortunately, will have to wait till another day due to a relentless work travel schedule this week.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
2nd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 7: 11-17)
In the Gospel of Luke, women and the poor play a prominent role. In this particular passage, it is interesting to note that Jesus raises the man from the dead because of his compassion, not for the man himself, but for the man’s mother. A woman without a man (father, husband, son) was in that culture a nobody, a non-person. By restoring the woman’s son to her, he rescued her from poverty and oblivion. Here lies what is, for me, the bigger issue. Jesus solves the immediate problem but does not seem to do anything about the larger social structures that created the problem to begin with.
It seems to me that one could argue that the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise at the beginning of Luke, should be the filter through which the entire Gospel is read. Through this filter, one sees the signs and wonders of Jesus less as isolated acts and more as signs of a future that is already breaking in on the world. The “lifting up of the lowly” and the “bringing down of the powerful” is a radical overthrow of the societal norms that left women like the widow in this story, without a voice and, frequently, destitute. The incarnation was the beginning of a new world order and the ministry of Jesus gave substance to the promise. God has indeed looked favorably on us, but the work of justice, the expansion of God’s reign on earth, is far from complete. To the extent possible, and always under the power of grace, Christians have a responsibility to cooperate in the continued building of this new world “according to the promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham, Sarah, and their descendants forever.”
It seems to me that one could argue that the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise at the beginning of Luke, should be the filter through which the entire Gospel is read. Through this filter, one sees the signs and wonders of Jesus less as isolated acts and more as signs of a future that is already breaking in on the world. The “lifting up of the lowly” and the “bringing down of the powerful” is a radical overthrow of the societal norms that left women like the widow in this story, without a voice and, frequently, destitute. The incarnation was the beginning of a new world order and the ministry of Jesus gave substance to the promise. God has indeed looked favorably on us, but the work of justice, the expansion of God’s reign on earth, is far from complete. To the extent possible, and always under the power of grace, Christians have a responsibility to cooperate in the continued building of this new world “according to the promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham, Sarah, and their descendants forever.”
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