Sunday, October 27, 2013

Is This a Joke?

Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 25 – Year C
October 27, 2013
Luke 18:9-14

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.' But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

When it comes to jokes, I really have a thing for jokes that are punny.  I love word play, jokes that involve double meaning are a favorite of mine.  Even though most people don’t find it all that funny, my favorite joke of all time is: two guys were walking down the street, one of them walked into a bar, the other one ducked.  There is something simple about that joke that attracts me, the double meaning, the whole visual part of it.  Of course part of it is that it sounds a lot like lots of other jokes.  I think we can all think of joke that begin in a similar way.  Two or more people walk into an establishment, something happens, and then the punch line.  Normally, the people are far from being similar to one another.  A nun, a prostitute, a penguin and a cowboy walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Is this some kinda joke?"

So, when I read this morning’s gospel lesson, I am waiting for the punch line; or at least a better punch line.  Because, let’s be honest, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted,” really isn’t that funny.  It might be challenging, it might be uncomfortable, but it’s not really all that funny.

However, I’m sure that when Jesus told it the people listening were also waiting for a one heck of a zinger at the end.  They all knew the Pharisees.  They were the perfect people, or at least the people that liked to present themselves as being perfect.   The Pharisees were the folks that knew the Jewish law best, they were the ones who made the rules, followed the rules they made, and criticized everyone else about how well or poorly they followed the rules.  And tax collectors, well they were just above green slime.  They were representatives of Rome, most people viewed them as being little more than thieves with a license from Rome to steal.  To say they were despised is a huge understatement.  So when, you put the two of them together at the beginning of the story it would be setting people up for one heck of an ending.  As biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan rephrases it, "A pope and a pimp went into St. Peter's to pray."  You just know whatever is coming next is going to be awesome.

And it was, and is.  Just not the way those listening to Jesus were probably expecting it to be, nor perhaps in the way we expect either.  It’s not the Pharisee who was the good one, the perfect one, the one who did what God wanted that is praised and justified.  It’s that other guy.  The one who cheated and stole from people for a living, the one who was probably spat on when he walked down the street, the one who people avoided at all costs – he was the one who was lifted up, the one who was justified at the end of the day.  Maybe this is a joke after all, it sure sounds like it.  The good guy loses and the bad guy wins; I’m sure some of those in the audience when Jesus told this parable looked at each other and muttered, “Is this a joke?”

Nearly 500 years ago, there was a monk in Germany that felt that some of what the Catholic Church was doing was wrong, so he wrote out his complaints and put them up on the doors of the church in Wittenburg.  These were Martin Luther’s 95 theses, and I’m sure the Vatican responded to them in a similar way that the hearers of Jesus’ parable did: “Is this a joke?”  Yet, it was far from a joke, and the movement that Luther gave words to has continued to have ripple effects through this time.  So too, with the ripple effects of this passage.

At the heart of the Protestant Reformation was the idea of grace, of God’s grace.  The thing that really set Luther off was the idea that the Catholic Church, especially the pope, had some extra special power that could be bought for a price.  The church at the time was needing to build St. Peter’s in Rome, and it was costing a ton of money.  So, someone had the great idea of selling these coupons called indulgences.  Basically, they were get out of purgatory early cards.  There was the understanding that after you died, most people were in a status where they weren’t really clean enough to enter heaven, and not bad enough to go to hell, so you hung out in purgatory for as long as it took to get you clean enough that you could enter heaven.   The indulgence was a coupon that you could buy for yourself, or another person, so you could get out of purgatory and into heaven a little quicker.  No, seriously, this isn’t a joke.

Luther didn’t think it was either.  He basically said, if the pope had that kind of power he should forgive everyone’s time in purgatory and let everyone into heaven ASAP.  What happened to grace if you can buy some level of forgiveness?  Was it even grace then?  If entry, or speed of entry, into heaven could be controlled by money or some aspect of our behavior, what then?  How could the church continue if God’s grace was being bought and sold?

It may not seem like it at first, but the question of grace is sitting right alongside that of humility in our parable.  In fact, grace and humility go hand in hand with one another.  Grace is that free gift from God that is done without our having done anything.  It’s God’s act of reaching out to and for us for no reason other than love – nothing we have done or do, made or will make God reach out in love.  That’s grace.  Humility is the recognition that we are not the best, that there are others out there who are far better, far more important than ourselves.  It’s the recognition in religious terms that we are fully dependent on God for all things.  It’s not about us.

In our text the Pharisee may be praising God, but he is doing so because he is not like those other people.  Other people that the Pharisee assumes are not as good as he is, because he is so good.  He might be good, but he is far from humble in his goodness.  Then we have the tax collector, who simply recognizes his sinfulness and cries out for mercy.

When looking at the way these two individuals approach God, something jumps out.  The Pharisee was all about ‘I’.  “I am so thankful I am not like other people…I fast twice a week… I faithfully tithe…I, I, I.”  Whereas, the tax collector is not about ‘I’ at all, he’s about God.  “God have mercy on me, a sinner.”  There is no claim of action, there is no individuality.  He is simply a sinner, like all of us; not the sinner, not the greatest of sinners, the worst of sinners, the least worthy of sinners; just a sinner.  His prayer, his plea, is all about God.  The one who walked away justified was the one who forgot about himself, and threw himself upon God’s mercy and grace.  The Pharisee, though, still had his eyes turned upon his own actions, his own sense of value and validity.  Of course God would hear his prayers, he was worthy because he did what was right and pleasing to God.

The punch line, the point, is that if it’s about grace, if it’s about God’s grace given to us, it’s never about ‘I’.  Yet, even as we accept the reality that it’s never about ‘I’ when it comes to God’s grace, we have to be careful.  This parable has a hidden danger, hidden traps waiting for us to stumble into: the first being that the moment you make the move to be humble, and throw yourself on God’s mercy, it’s hard not to be grateful that you are not like the Pharisee – “at least I know that I have to let God do it all for me.”  And second, becoming aware (like the tax collector) of our sinfulness, and in so doing make it about you in some way; in other words that our being aware of how bad we are is something to be proud about – “at least I know how much of a sinner I am.”  Either way, the trap is easily sprung – it’s not about you, it’s about God.  Anything you do, any way in which you suddenly become a player in it – it becomes about you, and not God.  Notice the ‘I’s.  I’m just glad we have this parable to teach us, to warn us of the dangers.

This past week I ran across an online video clip of Pat Robertson on the 700 Club responding to a question from a mother of a deaf child, who was praying that her child be cured of deafness.  Pat Robertson, responded that she must be doing something wrong, after all he had prayed for people that were deaf and they had been healed.  Why is it that we keep on having to deal with stuff like that?   Why is it that the image of Christianity that is so often seen and heard by the people is about pointing fingers at the sinners and lifting up the saints, all about us’s and thems?   Like “those crazy Christians that seem to be always showing up on television advocating their twisted version of the gospel with words like Jesus hates, condemns! Why is it that they are always the one’s who the press go to when asked about the Christian perspective? Or, how about all those Jesus malls, excuse me mega-churches, popping up all over the country selling Jesus like a consumer commodity and entertaining all those who attend!  Or, how about those prosperity preachers offering a message of hope and healing for a price —preying on the poor, oppressed and hopeless, all yours for just $9.95 plus shipping and handling.
Thank God I’m not like those people."[1]
......Amen??

Monday, October 7, 2013

Getting Even

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 22 – Year C
October 6, 2013
Psalm 137

By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down
   and we wept when we remembered Zion.

And so we hung up our harps,
   there upon the willows.

For there our captors asked us for songs,
   and our tormentors asked for mirth,
saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"

How could we sing God's song in a foreign land?
   If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!

Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, 
   if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

Remember, O God, against the Edomites 
   the day of Jerusalem's fall,
how they said, "Tear it down!
   Tear it down, down to its foundations!"

O city of Babylon, you devastator!
Happy shall they be who pay you back 
   what you have done to us!

Happy shall they be who take your little ones
   and dash them against the rock!


One of the realities of living in the time and place in which we are living is the central cultural importance of competition.  It seems like no matter the career path, the job, the calling, the activity there is competition.  On the playground, we see children competing against one another: who can run faster, who can swing higher, who can throw the ball farther.  In the classroom we see it too: who got all the answers right on the spelling test, who was still in the teachers good book at the end of the day.  In social media we see competition about who has the most Facebook friends, who has the most blog hits, who gets the most comments and responses from what they post.  In work we compete with our competitors for jobs, we compete with our coworkers so we might be noticed by our bosses and managers.  We see it in the home too, with children competing with one another to be noticed by mom and dad.  Whether we like it or not (and even though I am very competitive I hate it) competition is a part of most of our daily lives.

If it just ended there, that would be great.  If we could just compete with one another in order to show our abilities, and just let it end there, it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be better.  Better than what?  Better than it is now.  Because, we don’t just compete, we make use of any and all options as we compete to show we are the best or the most worthy of being noticed.  We cheat, we lie, we do all sorts of really not very nice things – all to win.  And when someone does those things to us, we get mad, we get angry, we want to make things right.

Last week I was watching the kids playing on the playground before school.  Kids were running everywhere, screaming and laughing.  It was actually a very beautiful thing to watch. Then I noticed a few boys who were going to have a race across the playground.  Now, as someone who has run a few races my eyes were drawn to that activity.  I watched as one who was obviously not as fast as the others intentionally tripped another.  It was blatant.  Up jumped the boy who had been tripped and he flew into the back of the boy who had tripped him; they went down in a tumble of legs and arms.  Luckily, one of the playground supervisors also saw it and stepped in quickly.  The boy who had been tripped was screaming about how the other boy had cheated, how it hadn’t been fair.  It was all about revenge.

Let’s be honest.  All of us have been there.  We have all wanted revenge; we have all wanted to act in vengeance on another person to make it fair.  Over and over again we have seen the human tendency to react violently when another person has wronged us.  It’s the law of an eye for an eye: you wronged me so I’m going to wrong you in the same measure (if not more).  In the wild west, it was vigilante justice; even today that desire for revenge is clear.  We hear it in the voices of those who have been, or whose families have been the victims of violent crimes.  I’m often shocked and saddened when I hear the satisfaction in the voices of those who watched their assailant executed.  Revenge brought peace, or something resembling peace.  Yet, that revenge didn’t really do anything other than calm our own needs.  Think about the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and so many other situations – has acting in revenge ever done anything to really stop the cycle, has seeking to make it fair (on our terms) ever really solved anything in those types of situations?

We know it doesn’t, really; yet it seems we can’t break the habit.  Today we encounter revenge and vengeance in our Psalm.  In my opinion, it’s one of the most disturbing passages in the Bible.  That’s obviously also the opinion of many people.  In many hymnals that print the Psalms, this Psalm is excluded.  When it comes up in the lectionary cycle, we hope that they leave off that last verse.  Or at the very least give us a different reading as an option.  Who wants to think about, much less talk about or reflect on smashing little ones heads against the rocks?  But, if we could pick and choose the parts of scripture that we want to read or meditate on, we would be creating a book in our image.  Scripture isn’t meant to just be warm and fuzzy and make us feel good; scripture is at its best when it challenges us, when it forces us to squirm, when we cannot escape its call to look deeply at ourselves in its mirror.

This Psalm is a cry to God that reflects the situation of the Israelites in captivity in Babylon.  They were essentially slaves, unable to live their lives as they desired.  They had been taken from the Promised Land, they had been marched for days and weeks in chains to a foreign land, where they had been forced to work for the Babylonians.  They missed their Land, they missed the temple where they could worship God.  The Babylonians were cruel taskmasters, making their position as slaves clear to the Israelites.  The Psalm presents the idea that the Israelites were mocked with requests that they sing their songs from home, so they could be the butt of jokes regarding their “music.”  The Israelites refused, or at the very least, the Psalmist refused as the voice of the Israelite people.

The cries of the Israelites were clear, they had been abused, they had been imprisoned, they had been tortured.  They wanted to get even, they wanted vengeance, they wanted revenge.  But the Psalmist recognizes something lse.  Vengeance, revenge was not theirs to give.  The Psalmist recognizes the truth found in Deuteronomy 32, that vengeance belongs to the Lord.  It’s not that the Psalmist, that the Israelites don’t want revenge; they do.  Just look at the words, they are full of the desire for revenge.  Yet, those same words make it clear that they were leaving vengeance to God.

Seeking fairness is part of being human.  It’s the reason why we have an innate sense of justice; give two small children different size treats and see how they react.  We know in our hearts what is fair.  We know what is right, we know when we have been wronged.  Working toward justice and fairness is part of God’s desires for us.  Remember Micah 6:8; what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?  God desires us to seek ways of equality and justice.  And when we see injustice, when we see the mistreatment of people we are to speak out, we are to work to do something about it.  Yet, as we work to follow God’s desires for us, we must be careful.  Our actions must be guided by seeking for justice, not by a desire for seeking revenge.

The cry of the Psalmist, the cry of the Israelites is for justice, for revenge.  But, as they cry they do not themselves declare they will act to bring about that revenge.  Their cry is a prayer to God that God will act, that God will correct the injustice that has occurred.  They will work for justice, yet God will be the active one to bring vengeance upon the workers of injustice.

It is not about not punishing someone for their wrongdoing.  It’s not about just allowing people to act whatever way they want.  This is about ensuring that when we seek to discipline someone for their behaviors we do so without allowing our desire for revenge to control us.  Jesus told his disciples to turn the other cheek.  When we turn the other cheek, it’s not about not being angry, it’s not about saying the other person will never be disciplined.  It’s about stopping ourselves in that moment, removing the emotion of revenge from the moment, and accepting that the one who has done us wrong will have to face God and God’s vengeance because of their actions – and one day, so will we.  Allowing God to be the active one does not take away the pain and hurt, but it can free us to focus on healing rather than on our response, moving forward rather than focusing on the past and how we can make someone “pay” for what they have done.


The words of the Psalm make us uncomfortable, they can make us squirm; because they are so human, and we can relate to them so well.  The reality of our own cries for revenge and vengeance echo alongside the cries of the Psalmist and the Israelites.  May we too learn the lesson of the Psalmist and not focus on how we could respond in vengeance, but on letting go of our need for revenge and allow God to be the active one.  Active both in response and in our healing.  May we find peace in God’s ever comforting presence.  Amen.