Sixth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 9 Yr B July 4 2021

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 9 Yr B July 4 2021

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10, Psalm 48, 2 Corinthians 12:2-10, Mark 6:1-13

 

It seems like a rather harsh reaction. Jesus has gone home to preach, and first the people are somewhat surprised, and then they quickly turn to “who is this guy, isn’t he just Mary and Joseph’s son?” “Hasn’t he gotten a bit full of himself, too big for his britches?” Could this be a story about the hometown boy making good, and I wonder if they aren’t just a little bit jealous. And then Jesus’ friends and neighbors turn away and resist Jesus’ invitation into the grace and mercy that is offered, and Jesus just can’t believe it. 

 

But Mark’s reason for telling us this story isn’t just about that, I think it’s about something much deeper. Jesus invites those who were listening in the synagogue, and us who are hearing this 2000 years later, to partner in this ministry of love. Which means that each and every day we have before us the opportunity to be channels of grace and mercy to people and a world desperately in need of grace and mercy.

 

Mark continues to tell this tale of rejection. The people who are in the synagogue, Jesus’ hometown church, Jesus’ friends and neighbors, take offense and reject him. But in the quiet, the back rooms, the barns, Jesus and those who followed, continue to heal. But Jesus tells the followers, “If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them”. It makes me wonder what’s going on that makes Jesus and the disciples so unwelcome. 

 

Jesus instructs the disciples to go out into the villages and teach, taking nothing with them and accepting hospitality as it is offered, and if it is not offered, Jesus tells them to move on. But so many of their neighbors are trapped in their comparisons and complaints, they are not remotely interested in receiving Jesus’ blessing. Even Jesus cannot believe it.

 

In a world so desperate for grace and mercy, why does Mark tell this story, why will the people not accept Jesus’ offer. Why would people kick them all out?

 

What about now? Can we imagine ourselves as the ones in the pews when Jesus comes, are we the people who kick Jesus out of there? We would know Jesus, we would welcome Jesus, we would offer coffee and donuts and a bed to sleep on. And we would welcome Jesus’ disciples, wouldn’t we?

 

What’s going on here? Jesus offers grace and mercy, and that comes as a threat to the principalities and powers. Jesus’ message of love is a message that includes everyone. Jesus’ disciples are not the ones in power, Jesus’ disciples are not the well to do, Jesus’ disciples are fishermen. They stink like fish.

 

In our communities and our neighborhoods, we have a lot of trouble welcoming the ones that stink. We want them to be like us, well groomed, well fed, well moneyed. We want them to look like us and talk like us. We want to be able to know that their God is our God. And we really don’t want to be upset by any difference in belief, or culture.

 

In this world where there is so much fear, it’s really hard to offer hospitality to those who we don’t know, or those who don’t come with a good recommendation, or those who have nowhere else to go. We are the ones, you see, who close our doors to stinking fishermen.

 

The good news in this story is that Jesus invites the disciples to partner in the ministry of love. Jesus tells them to travel light and accept the hospitality that is offered. Jesus equips and commissions the disciples to carry on the ministry. They are now partners in ministry in a way they have not been up to this point in the story. And the instructions Jesus offers demonstrate the mutuality, even interdependence, of the disciples on those to and with whom they minister. They go out in pairs, because this work can’t be done alone. And they do not take their own provisions but rather depend on the hospitality of those they meet. And while some will receive them and be blessed, others will refuse their ministry and blessing.

 

And the good news in this story is that even in the face of rejection, even when the principalities and powers refuse the invitation to love, the invitation to grace and mercy that Jesus and the disciples offer, the offer continues to be made. Jesus does not recant, Jesus continues to bring love even when that love, and grace, and mercy, is rejected.

 

The good news for us is that Jesus invites us to partner in this ministry of love. Jesus invites us. And really, we are the stinky fishermen, and we are the well-groomed. We are the very imperfect humans that are created in God’s image. We are the ones who are really good at loving one another, and we are the ones who miss the mark mightily on many days. We are the ones who are broken, and we are the ones who are healed in the bread that is the body broken for us.

 

And the good news for us is that our actions matter. Not as works that earn God’s favor but as a response to God’s holy invitation. God has chosen us in Baptism, not only for salvation but also for purposeful, consequential lives here and now, and each day we have a choice between resisting God’s activity or partnering with God’s intent and action to bless and care for God’s world.

 

We are the ones who bear love, mercy, and grace into all the places we find ourselves: our homes, our work, our schools. We are the ones who break down the barriers between us and them. We are the ones who meet people in their places of brokenness or joy. We are the ones who seek out those who will listen to the words of God’s love for everyone, we are the ones who love compassionately and fail miserably in the short sightedness of our compassion.

 

Our love, mercy, and compassion matters. Even when it seems like no one listens. What we do matters. Every time you choose to love and not hate, every time you choose to cross the barriers to offer love, we come closer to the dream God dreams for us. Jesus invites us to partner in the ministry of love, and this beloved community equips us to be agents of love, of grace, and of mercy. Love does indeed, win. Amen.

 

Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 8 2020

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Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost Yr A Proper 27 Nov 8 2020

Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25, Psalm 78:1-7,1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, Matthew 25:1-13

 

Last Sunday, the Feast of All Saints, we recommitted ourselves to following Jesus, we reaffirmed our baptismal promises. In these days it feels to me like not only do those promises call me into ministry, but they are also like armor donned not for battle, but for life, life that just keeps throwing down the crap.

 

And I think Matthew keeps throwing it down, one parable after another, one parable more difficult than the last one. This parable in front of us today is one of those watchful parables that we heard in the preceding chapter of Matthew's Gospel. And it challenges our quickly made assumptions about judgment, grace and the end times. The characters in this story are not simply good or simply bad. The definitions we give good and bad have always reflected our own prejudices more than they have faithfully represented Gospel truth. And another thing this story is not about is getting into heaven by what we do or don’t do.

 

In these Covid days, I’ve been watching The Good Place on Netflix. On first blush The Good Place is a story about getting into heaven or going to hell. The basic premise is that you need to earn enough points to get into the Good Place. However, as the story unfolds, we learn that something has gone wrong, and the Good Place might not actually be the Good Place. Discussion ensues about how you earn points, and what you do to earn points, and what you do to earn points and why you would even want to earn those points. Michael, the demon turned friend, calls those points moral dessert. Isn’t that great? Moral dessert. The result of earning your way into the Good Place is moral dessert. However, the story deepens to acknowledge that humans are much more complex than originally thought and that what humans do is not always easily categorized into right and wrong. And the question is raised about who does the judging and accounting of the points anyway.

 

That is partly what this parable in Matthew is about, it shows us the complexity of our moral decision making, but this parable leaves us uncertain. There is no right and wrong, there is no satisfying ending, and there is no moral dessert. Because this parable may very well be about how to live ready and awake even in the complexity of life.

 

Let’s take a look. What Matthew presents to us today, as he has throughout his gospel, is terribly troubling. These ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. How were five foolish and five wise? Because five of them took their lamps, but no extra oil. So when the bridegroom was delayed and they all fell asleep, and they were running out of oil and the other five wouldn’t share with them, they were denied entry to the marriage feast. How could that possibly be? You’ve got five who won’t share with the other five, and five denied entry, it just doesn’t seem fair. So one explanation for this rejection is that the five foolish maidens had already somehow been determined to be evil. It brings me right back to the Good Place, in spite of a list of good deeds these maidens may have had, they are rejected at the door to what seems to be the good place.

 

What do we do with this? How are the maidens being judged? Why are they being judged? That’s what brings me to what I really think this parable is about. I think it is about living ready and awake in the midst of this complexity of life. And, this is a story about the end of all things, and the beginning of the new, and the coming of Christ. But I think it’s mostly about how we live in the world, the place God has given for human habitation.

 

First we look to being ready and awake in the midst of the complexity of life.

 

Secondly, it is not the maidens who are doing the judging of one another, it is the one who is called Lord.

 

In Matthew’s gospel we can go right to the Sermon on the Mount, and the beatitudes for direction. We can go right to the answer to the lawyer’s question, which is the most important commandment? We all know the answer, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ We go to these passages in Matthew not because these are easy answers, but because they show forth the complexity in which we are asked to live our lives. The complexity in which we are to be ready, to be awake. What is the measure by which humanity is judged? That measure is our willingness to wrestling with the complexity of these blessings. Blessings that don’t show specifically what is right or wrong, good or bad, and don’t earn us moral dessert. If we are honest with ourselves, we wrestle with these beatitudes all the time, we ask what it means to be poor in spirit, or meek, or merciful, or pure in heart, or a peacemaker, or even what is persecution. Because the reality is that you and I rarely are poor in anything, or meek, or persecuted.

 

Even loving our neighbor seems hard and complex in these days. In these times of division, how do we love our neighbor when we know we cannot agree to disagree about really important things; like the evil nature of racism, or the devaluing of women’s bodies, or the wonder of how love chooses a partner in life?

 

You and I must grapple with the complexity of this life. This is what kingdom readiness is about. We must wrestle with blessing and beatitude. We must love our neighbor even when we don’t like our neighbor. Not because we hope to rack up points and get the moral dessert, but because this is our ministry, this is our call, this is what it means to follow Jesus. We must love, because we are loved first, and because if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.

 

And more good news in this terribly troubling story in Matthew is that you and I are not the judge. It is not up to us who gets into the Good Place, thank God, because I for one would really botch that one. No, it is not up to us. That work is not ours. That work has already been done on the cross. The cross disrupts all of our categories of good or bad, and lays them at the foot of that cross with Jesus’ words, forgive them, forgive them. It is finished. We are called to lay down our pride and arrogance and love every neighbor. This life may not be comfortable when we do that, and it is indeed complex. And we may be called to stand in places that are difficult or dangerous, but this is the readiness for God’s kingdom as it will be, there is no other. Loving one another, standing with one another, is what following Jesus looks like. Being ready is not about you and me deciding who is foolish or who is wise, that’s God’s job. Being ready is to watch, and wait, and in the midst of that complexity, to love one another with abandon. 

Thanks be to God.