Reflection on Matthew 19:16-30

Tonight, I want to reflect a bit on how we read the sacred testimony in our scripture. Where we stand shapes how we see things. Because we're so diverse, we each read scripture with different eyes. But in order to understand Jesus, we also need to put on the eyes of the people Jesus was speaking to: the common people, the poor, the outcasts, the marginalized.

I have a bad habit, and many churches in America have this same habit, of reading scripture from the only the perspective of the powerful. Our church is pretty good—maybe you don't have this problem— but I've been various communities where discussions have assumed that "we" are all on the powerful side—the story of the rich young man is a judgment on "us"; how do we respond, goes the discussion, given that we are relatively wealthy or powerful.

Putting on multiple sets of eyes is a both necessary and a hard thing to do. It is true, that living in a place where there might be violence, but not war; hunger but not starvation, makes us all relatively privileged. We need to remember that, because there's a whole world out that that says "we need more". But it is also true that many of us, in important spheres of our lives, don't have privilege: some of us have been without homes, been discriminated against at work, had the government not recognize a marriage, been chronically ill with difficulty getting health care, been afraid to come out to parents, been victims of domestic violence, been a target of racism or harassment. This is not "them", this is us, this is the church, this is who Jesus was speaking to.

So let's take the exercise of reading this story from a different perspective. From the rich and powerful, it's a story of judgment: You read the story, and you hear it's easier for a camel to go through an eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God--this is horrible news.

But put on another set of eyes: you live in a world that tells you the rich have it made, that they deserve to be rich, and that because they are rich, they can do all sorts of good deeds that make them have favor with God. But then in this story, you hear that a rich young guy wants to know what he really needs to do to find favor with God—and it turns out that this guy can't do it, he's too sad. But you, you're following Jesus already, and you are doing what this guy and all his wealth can't do: picking up, following Jesus, a piece of the kingdom of God being revealed on earth.

If you didn't get it the first time, the disciples are there to ask the "dumb" question: "Look, we've left everything to follow you: what do we get?". Jesus says, "what you've left behind, you'll get back a hundredfold." This is a story of good news. Astonishing news, but good news.

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that this story wasn't primarily designed to tell people with money what to do with it, thought it certainly is suggestive. Rather, I think this story is telling us that the kingdom of God is so important, that it brings such reward, that we should push aside anything that gets in our way, and if there's less in our way, we should be thankful.

My invitation to you is that to consciously recognize the places in which you stand, to read scripture with multiple sets of eyes, and hardest of all, to try to read it with the eyes of the people Jesus was speaking to.

Reading for Citizens with the Saints

From Ephesians 2, adapted NRSV and the Inclusive Bible.

Remember that you were at one time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For Christ is our peace; in his flesh Christ has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, in order to make the two into one new person, thus establishing peace and reconciling us all to God in one body through the cross, which put to death the enmity between us. Christ came and announced the Good News of peace to you who were far away, and to those who were near; for through Christ we all have access in one Spirit to our God.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, which is built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In Christ the whole structure is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. In Christ, you are being built into this temple, to become a dwelling place of God and the Spirit.

Citizens with the Saints (Ephesians 2)

One of the most momentous and contentious issues in the early church was how non-Jewish followers of Jesus should be incorporated into the church. The writer of Ephesians—either Paul or one of Paul's followers—is addressing this division between Jews & Gentiles, and one of the biggest themes of Paul is the unity of the church, the importance that there be no division in the church, that Christ's life and message made us one.

And so, we "are no longer strangers and aliens, but citizens with the saints and members of the household of God." This line captures one of the most radical things we do as church: the church proclaims that our status or rank does not come not from being a citizen of Rome, a citizen of the United States, a "citizen" of a corporation or profession. It is easy to forget when our entertainment is nationally based, when our news is nationally focused, when we vote in national elections and pay taxes to support the government of this nation—it is easy to forget that our primary affiliation as followers of Jesus is with the universal church, the other followers of Jesus building an alternative society in which the old divisions are healed.

I love our denomination, the UCC, but we are very much an American denomination, organized in the United States even though we have many international partners—and so it makes it hard to see our Christian unity across national boundaries.; international denominations, like the Catholic church, maybe make it a bit easier to see. The church at its best can give the world a sign that unity is possible.

As our church reflects on Race, Immigration and Justice these few weeks, these thoughts have been hanging heavy in my heart: How do we live as church, citizens with the saints, when our lives are organized by division, when being born on one side or another of a border means a drastically different life? Our faith teaches that the goods of the earth are gifts from God and belong to all people, but have you seen that in practice? And most of all, what if what God asks of me is too hard or too much?

Recognizing a problem is easier than solving it. But this passage from Ephesians can give us hope. One way to begin to heal is to recall the ways in which we have been strangers: Paul reminds the Ephesians that they were once strangers to God's revelation, Exodus that reminds Israel that they were strangers in the land of Egypt. It is easier to love, to feel compassion, when you recognize that you once needed love and compassion.

Another way to heal is to remember the immensity of gifts we've received: Christ's teaching and sacrifice, our ancestor's work for justice. We would be far off, or even farther, from God were it not for these gifts. And if we've received such gifts, then we sure should pass along more to others.

The good news is that we are being built into a holy temple in the Lord. We're not there yet by any means, but the building is in process. It will take work to make these words true, for too many of us are strangers and aliens from each other in practice: but the truth and promise is that, in Christ, we will be joined together and rise as one from the ruins.

The Conversion of Paul/ Acts 9

This week in the Christian calendar was the feast of the Conversion of Paul/Saul. The story of Paul should spark a bit of fear in all of us, but also hope. It shows how easy it is for us to have things backwards, despite our best intentions—but it also the possibility of dramatic change, the possibility of redemption.

Saul was, to all outward appearances, a good religious man, concerned with upholding tradition and stopping the blasphemous Christian sect from leading people astray. He persecuted the early Christian movement, acting— he thought – on the side of justice…. until he had the original "Road to Damascus" experience: God speaks to Paul, asks: "Paul, why are you persecuting me?"

Paul was knocked off his horse, was struck blind, and then he waited for three days with his thoughts.

Paul's conversion required the Christian movement to stretch as well. Paul was not the only one who was shocked, because God tells Ananias, a follower of Jesus, to go visit Paul: it's almost as if George Bush were told to go unarmed and visit a repentant Osama Bin Laden. But Ananias does go, and Paul becomes a great leader of the church.

Reading this story of Paul on the Way to Damascus reminds me that we need all need humility: no matter how sure we are that we are right, we might be wrong, and so humility demands that we speak and listen to each other, that we grow.

Humility is relatively uncontroversial. But the story also reminds me that we need to question, to actively question our assumptions. Paul persecuted the church because the bundle of assumptions he had about goodness and right living seemed incompatible with this movement. And so, as pray together, I wonder what assumptions I might be holding that are hurting others, that someday God might call me to drop.

A Retelling of Matthew 15:21-28

I am going to tell you a story, in which great faith was able to change a heart, and overcome the walls that divide us, one from another.

Jesus was teaching in Galilee to the people, and he was arguing with the Teachers of the Law who came to him from Jerusalem. People from all over the region came to him, bringing the sick and begging for healing, even to grab his cloak. And so, after some time of this, Jesus left Galilee and traveled to the area of Tyre and Sidon, a foreign area, a Gentile area.

Jesus wanted to remain unrecognized—perhaps to spend some time alone with his followers, so much to say to them; perhaps to have some time to himself, to think and to pray. So Tyre and Sidon would be natural places to lay low, away from the conflict and troubles in Galilee. The people there wouldn’t know much about his work, the crowds, or disputes he had.

Yet there was a woman from Tyre, a Canaanite, a Gentile—she might have been rich, and she might have been poor, we don’t know. This woman’s daughter was ill, seemed tormented by a demon. Somehow, this woman recognized something about Jesus—maybe she’d seen him before, maybe she’d heard Jesus talking with his disciples about what had happened in Galilee. And so, for her daughter’s sake, she took the chance— she a Gentile and he a Jew— and she shouted at Jesus: “Have mercy on me, Son of David! My daughter is horribly tormented by a demon!”

But Jesus ignored her, didn’t answer her at all. But she persisted, again and again: “Have mercy; take pity on me; heal my daughter!” And finally, the disciples said to Jesus: “You’ve got to send her away. She’s shouting at us, she’s drawing a crowd.”

So finally, Jesus turned to the woman and said: “My mission is only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel. Go from me.”

The woman threw herself at his feet and pleaded: “Help me, Rabbi. Heal my daughter.”

And Jesus answered her: “It’s not right. It’s not right to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

“True, Rabbi,” she replied. “But even the dogs get to eat the scraps that fall from the table.”

There was a pause. By now a few people had gathered, and looked to Jesus for an answer.

And Jesus said: “Yes, woman, you are right. You have great faith, and your wish will be fulfilled.”

And at that very moment, the Canaanite woman’s daughter was healed.

Something changed after Jesus’ encounter with this woman. He healed again in the area, and eventually great crowds came, largely Gentile crowds. And as he had done, back in the land of Galilee, he fed these thousands, with bread in the desert, not scraps from a table, but abundant loaves and fishes.