Beyond Things

Hosea 11:1-11; Psalm 107:1-9; Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

What This Message Is Not About

It would be so easy to preach this week’s Scriptures as a pointed stewardship lesson, that God blesses us with so many things that we should be ready to give everything to God, and by the way, we have a mortgage on the building, so, you know, be generous....right.  Give as you feel led, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today.

Instead, let me talk a bit about parenting.  After all, the Gospel story starts off with a sibling dispute over the inheritance--something that causes a great deal of pain in families.  And you can definitely hear the parent in God’s voice speaking throughout the passage in Isaiah.

Let’s Talk About The Kids

My family and I went back to our old neighborhood this week, and pretty soon all the parents were hanging out talking about our kids--sharing both the joys and the frustrations.  Many of you know that banter.  And I wonder, what if God talked about us the way we talked about our kids?  How would that sound?  “Oh, you know, Adam and Eve, they were so cute and agreeable at first, but then they made a total mess out of my garden--so I put up a gate to keep them out of there--but then they just went out and made even bigger messes, I can barely keep up with it all!”

Well, God does often talk about us as though we were God’s children, because we are.  And we really hear that today in the reading from Hosea.  We hear how God raised us up like a child, and such vivid imagery:  I taught them to walk, I held them in my arms, I healed their injuries, I lifted them like infants to my cheek, I fed them.  Can’t you just see that?

And yet, that relationship was mired in pain.  For as much as God tended and nurtured the children, they ran away from God, and found themselves increasingly mired in trouble, and wouldn’t turn back and seek help, they put their trust in powers, like powerful political alliances (aka “friends”) that would ultimately betray and destroy them.

Hosea:  The Perfectly Dysfunctional Family

I noticed that several folks commented (but nobody complained!) that some of the usual Bible readings were absent last week while I was away.  Part of the reason for that was they were kind of doozies.  The upshot of the story was that God commanded the prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute, and then have a couple of kids which he was supposed to name, “Not My People” and “No Pity.”  Well, ouch.  God’s point in this was to create a totally dysfunctional family, where there is no love, no mercy, and no fidelity, to serve as a metaphor for what had gone wrong in the relationship between God and God’s people.  Granted, this didn’t go over well: mostly because it was weird, and also, as far as God’s people knew, it was a time of relative prosperity.  Everything was going great, so, what’s the big deal?  In reality, things were about to go horribly wrong in ways even they could see: As the scripture reads, the sword rages in their cities and they are in danger of returning to captivity and repression.

When Things Go Horribly Wrong

I think most of us have known situations where a child has been raised lovingly, and still somehow ends up down a wrong path that leads to their destruction.  Perhaps the most frequent metaphor today would be drug addiction [CBS This Morning 8/5/13 reported on the new heroin epidemic].  But there’s any number of things that could happen, that are truly frightening.  And for those of us who are parents, we may wonder if there is any reason we would ever abandon one of our children, or even kick them out of the house.  Perhaps ultimately, and realistically speaking, if the child was endangering the others who lived there, to protect the rest of the family, we might have to say, “you can’t come home right now.”  Now, I don’t want to ever think about any of that happening to my kids--who are rascals, but they’re also so young and innocent right now--but it might.  I can parent to the best of my ability, but I realize that even as a pastor, my family and my children are not immune to the ills of this world.

And that’s where we hear and understand God speaking through the prophet Hosea in today’s reading.  [Insert your own children’s names here] and you begin to get the picture of God, this brokenhearted parent, worried sick:

“How can I give you up, ____________?  How can I hand you over, ________?  

[Insert your own name here] and you begin to get the picture of God, this brokenhearted parent, worried sick.

Insert the name of anyone whom you love deeply, and you begin to get the picture....yes, I think we can begin to tap into those feelings and relate.

The good news is, even when we have done things to break God’s heart, God doesn’t write us off.  God instead chooses compassion and continues to invite the rebellious child home.

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It’s Not About the Little Things

Sometimes, our relationships are painful, but nothing huge and tragic has caused it.  Sometimes, things just ‘get in the way’ of our relationships.  Not just material things, like the inheritance dispute between the brothers in the Gospel story, but things, you know, stuff that happens, and builds up, and forms into walls and barriers between us that are so hard to tear down, without tearing each other down in the process.

Granted, it’s easiest not to let those walls get built up in the first place--to handle the issues while they’re small, and not let them blow up into big things.  When those little things get blown up, then we know the relationship is in trouble.  After all, even churches die, not because they ran out of people to invite, but because they got caught up fighting over little things like the carpet and blew all their energy, and pffft, there they went.

Who among us doesn’t have a relationship we wish could be better?  Who among us doesn’t have words or mistakes we wish we could take back?  

All these human divisions, God seeks to break down, bridge, or transform.  We’ve talked in the past few weeks about those walls of animosity between Jews and Samaritans--folks who were really two sides of the same coin; and today Paul speaks to us of Greek and Jew, slave and free, barbarian and Scythian (and who are those guys anyway--we’ve forgotten, because the division didn’t really matter)!  God is inviting us to not let those little things--and they are really little things, that we make into big things--stand in the way of love.

Beyond Things

So let’s talk about that Gospel verse again, but in a non-traditional way.  Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to build bigger barns--or churches, for that matter.  Really it’s hoarding, or at least not sharing, that is the problem.  We have a beautiful new facility, and God does call us to share it--to share our sanctuary, share our classroom space, even our lawn, and not keep it to ourselves.  Things will probably get dinged up a bit in the process, and we’re going to need two things:  a good-sized can of touch-up paint, and a load of graciousness.  After all, it isn’t really our building, but God’s.  When we can overlook the little things, and use wisely the big things we have been given, all of our relationships, and all of us individually, are deeply blessed.  God wants for us far more than we can imagine.  Thanks be to God!

Prayers this Week:

For all who struggle with addictions; mental health concerns; and for all who are facing abuse of any kind.

For those who come to harm when working in far-off places.

For our Sikh brothers and sisters as they remember the shootings in their sacred space one year ago.

For our PCUSA friends who are gathered at the Big Tent conference in Louisville, KY this weekend.

For all who are traveling

For all who are ill or injured

For those who are dying, and for those who are grieving

For peace in our world

Lyrics for the Lectionary:

When reading the Scriptures this week, consider the following:

A Thousand Years, Christina Perri (Hosea)

Somebody That I Used to Know, Gotiye (Hosea)

Paradise, Coldplay (Hosea, Luke)

How To Save A Life, Fray (Hosea)

Feel the Tide, Mumford and Sons (Psalm)

Mary, Martha, and Malala

Mary, Martha, and Malala

Luke 10:38-42

Usually when I read the Gospel story about Mary and Martha, I think about the ‘Mommy Wars,’ you know, stay at home mother vs. career woman, and the animosity between women in the two roles over the past several decades.  Or I think of slightly burnt-out volunteers in churches, wondering why nobody will help them.  Or I think about a devaluing of women’s work in general, perhaps even by Jesus, if you read the story that way.  After all, Jesus, supper isn’t going to fix itself.

Ah, but a series of events this past week changed how I see this scripture verse.

First, I happened upon an article talking about AIDS education in Africa.  The missionary health worker arranged a training and invited the community.  The chiefs and important men of the area sat on the benches to one side, in places in honor.  Most of the women opted to stay towards the back and chat during the presentation.  The missionary concluded that the women had not heard much of presentation and commented, “perhaps this is what Paul meant by saying women should be silent in churches.”  They needed to be able to hear the literally life-giving words being shared at the front of the room.  [I’ll link it here when I find the article again].

Well, perhaps.  I wasn’t in the room, so I don’t know how much the women heard.  Or maybe they’d heard it all before. Who knows.  But it reminded me of my time working throughout the Middle East and Central Asia, and particularly of public space and private space, and especially women’s space, and men’s space, and the roles and actions that each one plays.

Much like in Bible times, when guests come, a feast is prepared out of anything the family has on hand.  The table is set and the men of the family and the guests are seated.  Once the guests have had their fill, the women and children of the family are fed, always in a space separate from where the guests are.

My years of human rights work took me to many family homes in those regions, and after a while, I realized, we rarely saw the women of the family when we were visiting, especially if we brought male colleagues along with us.  The men of the family hosted us in the front room or parlor.  This was partly a protective measure, in cases where the guests were not well-known to the family.  There was also the practical measure that someone needed to get dinner on the table.  However, as a foreigner, even though I was a woman, I was granted space to be in the room, and at the table, and participate in the conversation.

At first, it was exciting to be at the table, because the conversations were always political and often radical--I always learned something I didn’t know before.  But after a while, I tired of the conversation and wondered what the other women were doing.

Eventually I’d excuse myself to go in the back with the women.  In doing so I learned how to cook some amazing food, and I made several friends.  I also got to see real life in so many homes, since the best was put into the room where guests would be received.  I also got to see women truly ‘at home,’ with their heads uncovered and their hair down, and able to relax in private family space.

In Bible times, most women didn’t get to go to school.  Granted, many families couldn’t afford to send any children to school; and many boys apprenticed with their fathers to learn the family trade.  Wealthy families may have privately instructed their daughters, but most education for girls was in-home domestic and religious education. Boys who went to yeshiva, or religious school, would have become literate in Biblical languages in order to read Torah, and would have been encouraged to debate religious ideas with the rabbis.  Girls would not have this opportunity.

Yet even today, in many places around the world, women face major obstacles in getting a complete education, especially outside the home. In places where families don’t have enough money to pay for the books, clothes, and supplies needed to send kids to school, the boys are usually sent and the girls kept at home.  Sometimes the obstacle is not just economic, but political: the recent story of Malala, the girl who was shot for being a vocal activist for girls’ education--who not only survived her injuries but also gave a speech at the UN for her 16th birthday, reminds us painfully of this today.  

Speaking of pain, let’s go back to Martha, in her kitchen, apparently fuming. It’s not that Martha’s wrong.  She may be bitter, but that’s understandable.  It’s that Martha is doing exactly what the world expects of her, which is good in its own right, but she’s also feeling left out, and perhaps nervous at what’s happening in the next room.

After all, Jesus breaks barriers by talking to Mary in the front room.  Mary breaks barriers by participating in the discussion. And Jesus gets that someone has to put dinner on the table, because elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus is out there washing his disciples’ feet and breaking bread and pouring cups and then even after the crucifixion and resurrection, he’s out on the beach grilling up fish for breakfast.  

I think, more often than not, Jesus got it, and still gets it.  Jesus gets that women and men need to have equal access to the table, to the conversation, and equal responsibility to the chores at hand.  

So let’s not pit one sister against the other.  I believe Jesus is saying both sisters have a place at the table.  Sure, we all have our responsibilities, but in our life of faith, we look for ways that all may share the responsibilities--men and women, young and old, everyone together--so that we all may not only have but enjoy a place at the table, together with the Teacher.

May it indeed be so.

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Two recent pop songs for Mary and Martha:

“What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJO3ROT-A4E

“She Will Be Loved” by Maroon5 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIjVuRTm-dc

(disclaimer--these are songs that come to mind and seem to resonate when studying passages for the week.  Not all parts of all songs fit; I try to preview and prevent explicit content, but there may be in the lyrics or videos content which may be either graphic or triggering for some viewers.  I’m always willing to discuss these further, either online, or in person at church).

Forward Motion

Isaiah 43:16-21; Psalm 126; Philippians 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8

In this season of Lent we’ve been talking about companionship along life’s journeys:  about sibling relationships, and friends, and family and finding spiritual community as well.....

And speaking of families, I wonder, how many of you have either heard your parents say, or maybe you said it to your kids, “and this is why we can’t have nice things?”

You usually hear it when something of value gets wasted, broken, or misused in some way.  (I heard it endlessly in our home with my four brothers; I’ve invoked in my home at least once with my toddlers already)! Families, and college roommates, and governments, and even church congregations, can have arguments about how to use our resources best--with differing and sometimes competing values attached to each purpose.

So, going back to Bethany in the Gospel story today:  This is a group of friends at dinner having, at first glance, this kind of argument.  They all know each other well; they have goals of fulfilling a mission; Mary uses the expensive perfume to wash Jesus’ feet.  Judas says, we could’ve probably invested that in better ways, what a waste.  The story is emotionally loaded. Motives are assigned to each of the players in the story, and some harsh words are said, and also, perhaps you noticed, Jesus takes sides.

So let’s try to untangle what happened...

Extravagant Things

First of all, there’s the extravagance of using a perfume which cost a year’s wages.  At today’s rates, maybe $20,000 or more for a manual laborer?  That's a lot of money, I don’t even know if there’s a perfume that expensive in existence today.  And we don’t hear how Mary even got it--is this something you just keep around the house?  We may never know.

However, listen to where they are--in John’s telling of the story, they’re at the house of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead.  And while his sister Martha served Jesus and the disciples, Mary made this gesture of affection.  And it’s important to note that in John’s telling of the story, Mary is not some awful sinner, not a prostitute as we sometimes infer (it’s not actually in the Bible); but Mary, sister of Martha, sister of Lazarus, and friend of Jesus.

Now, if someone brought my family member back from the dead, I could see that kind of extravagance.  It’s not sustainable for your bank account, maybe it’s foolish in a hundred ways, but it’s pure gratitude.  If someone did that for me, for my family, I think I’d be saying, you know, take whatever you want, it’s yours--the car, the house, whatever, I don’t care! After all, my family member is worth more to me than anything I might own.

And Paul has similar things to say about his own life in today’s reading--that his love of Christ and his compulsion to spread the Gospel have really cost him everything he had--his status, his employment, his freedom (since he’s often in jail)--and he considers it all worth it, because he knows that what he has found in Christ is worth far more than any of that.  Especially the hope Paul has of resurrection from the dead.

It’s funny, because we often today hear about extravagance trying to avoid death, or even old age, which if we live that long we know is in itself inevitable.  We joke about guys who get fancy cars as part of a midlife crisis; we talk about women who “have a little work done.”  We hear of people wanting to be cryogenically frozen in hopes of being brought back to life at some point in the future.  Sometimes people who are desperately ill try this in hopes of later finding a cure.  (Although, I admit I’m not sure I’d want to be brought back a hundred years in the future, if all my friends and family were gone).  

Over and over in the Scriptures today we hear about God doing new and surprising things that sometimes seem foolish, or at least contrary to conventional wisdom.  God tells us that for those of us who weep, we will end up rejoicing, that our fortunes will be restored despite our suffering, that what has happened in the past is the past, because God is about to do something new--and we simply need to be ready for it.

So, I tried to think of where foolish extravagance might be fruitful.  Well, how many of us made complete fools of ourselves while pursuing our spouses?  How many of us don’t care what we look like when we’re lavishing affection on our children or grandchildren, when we’re rolling around on the ground playing with them?  I think we also know at moments like those, that this is what really matters.  Moments like these, maybe we begin to understand what Mary is doing.

And we know, (right?) that this kind of time is all too important with those we love:  we know for young parents not to stress too much about the state of the housekeeping when the kids are young, and  to just love them while they are there.  They will be gone before we know it.  The same is true of working long hours and neglecting our families whenever we don’t have to do so for survival--too quickly, our loved ones are gone.

And speaking of gone:  remember also that disciples, Mary, Martha--everyone in that room--saw Lazarus resurrected, but there is no promise at that moment, on that day, in that place, that Jesus is only going to be dead for three days.  Maybe for them at best, there’s a faction of Judaism that teaches resurrection on the last day, but not in three days.  If they had any inkling of what was coming, that Jesus would be condemned and executed, we can really understand such extravagance.

Footwashing: Would You Really?

I’m going to throw another idea out on the table now:  washing someone else’s feet with your hair.  Let’s be honest, this is kind of gross.  And maybe not many of us have hair that long. Yet footwashing was part of the hospitality rite, and with good reason: people wore sandals without socks, it was hot and dusty, so their feet were probably reeking.  Servants and slaves did this in good households, but they brought out water and towels.  But really, how many of us would do that for someone else, even a friend?  How many of us would do that for our spouses?  The closest many of us have gotten is cleaning a child who stepped in dog doo, am I right?  And how many of us would let someone else wash our feet?  Do we worry about what people would think of our feet?  Are they ugly? hairy?  smelly?  I really enjoy doing a foot-washing service on Maundy Thursday, but I know a lot of people are afraid to do it, because it’s pretty humbling and well, intimate, to touch somebody else’s feet, or have somebody else handle your own.

Remember the story of Lazarus though?  When Jesus entered that tomb, on the fourth day, the day that was considered proof beyond a doubt that they guy was dead and had even started to stink--that’s the day Jesus went into the tomb.  All those burial spices and perfumes used to anoint the dead--they weren’t about to help now.

Feet don’t seem maybe so bad in comparison.

And now Mary is here, and according to Jesus, is anointing him for the day of his own burial.  Jesus knows the time and is counting the cost.  He is perhaps frustrated with friends who don’t see the big picture.  And yet, he embraces the friend who is willing to be ridiculed by extravagance.

So why is Judas upset?  Maybe he was stealing--although, if you remember John’s gospel is being written down decades later, after lots of fighting between Christians and Jews, maybe there’s a little gossip happening there.  In the meantime, sometimes we stay with what we find comfortable and conventional because we simply fear the unknown.

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Paul writes about loss and gain, and pressing onward toward the goal--the goal of resurrection. Meanwhile, Jesus too, realizes he’s in forward motion: heading toward the cross.  If people around him realized even that; still only God could have known about the resurrection and promise of Easter, the surprise that lay in store.  God has, and God will continue, to turn sensible world order on its head.  God continues to do a new thing.  When we are beyond hope, like Lazarus, God lavishes extravagant love on us.  And that is our way forward, in all times, and in all places, with abundant hope. Amen.