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.

Sacred Text for Reflection on Joseph of Arimathea

From John 19

After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there

Joseph of Arimathea

It’s evening, the day before the Sabbath, and Jesus has been murdered by the Roman authorities with perhaps the complicity of the Jewish leader, and Jesus’ body hangs on the cross. Before Jesus was crucified, his friends deserted him in fear, saw the crowd that had come & denied even knowing him. Even the closest of Jesus’ followers were scared.

Enter Joseph of Arimathea, who is mentioned by all four gospels. Mark says that Joseph of Arimathea was a respected member of the council, who was “waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God” and emphasizes that Joseph went boldly to Pilate to ask for the body of Jesus.

The gospel of John, which was the sacred text for today, tells us that Joseph was a secret disciple of Jesus, because he was afraid of the temple authorities, who John--a Jew himself—refers to as “The Jews”. And, John alone mentions Nicodemus, also a member of the ruling council, who had come to Jesus by night, in secret. And they go, boldly, risking their position—perhaps their lives—to ask for the body of Jesus so that it could be buried.

We reflected here together on the story of Esther two weeks ago, and I am surprised at the parallels between the stories. Both Joseph and Esther have a secret identity—Esther as a Jew, Joseph as a Jew following Jesus. All this secrecy—perhaps a necessary part of being faithful in a dangerous world? Or is it just fear of being different, the fear that keeps my faith too often hidden outside this church?

There is a time to keep quiet, to be wise in the disclosure of the truth, to work for the kingdom of God in secret. In that secrecy we can still draw close to God, to gather strength or simply just be held by the God who loves us. There can be danger in speaking out—we still may face losing a job when coming out as gay, or joining a political or religious group. The recent terrorist murder of Dr. Tiller shows that even this country, the threat of violence might face those who step out.

But if there is a time to keep quiet, there is a time to step out, to stand up. Joseph of Arimathea was a disciple in secret, but the time came when had to act boldly. Can we speculate why? Maybe he acted boldly because this was the last chance he might have to really follow Jesus. Maybe he acted boldly because he couldn’t just abide letting Jesus hang there. And maybe he acted boldly because keeping quiet, keeping his secret was bringing him further, not closer to God.

There is a group of people today, one group among many, who are not just waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, but acting boldly to bring it about. Thousands of Iranians throng the streets, and resist the stolen election, the totalitarian state that lashes out in violence. Let us hold them in our prayers, and pray for their courage.

There is no evidence that Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, did anything to try to stop the execution of Jesus, and there may have been no way he could have even tried. His bold action was too late to save Jesus from death, but it may have saved Joseph from a spiritual depth. God is on the side of those who proudly live their God-given-truth, who do not hide their faith, who cannot remain silent in the face of oppression, who step out and speak the Word that God has given them.

There is a saying: “the tallest blade of grass is the first to be cut down”. And you can stay low, avoid getting cut down, but also never grow. And there is another saying, by Jesus himself: “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”.

And so I leave you with this question: is there somewhere in your life that you need to step forward? Do you believe that God will stand by your side?

Amen.

Faith and Doubt, April 22, 2009

Sacred Text: Excerpts from John 20

It’s been a week and a half since Easter, and the urgency, the activity, the fear of Holy Week—in which Jesus was captured and executed—this activity is passed. The surprise of Easter has also passed—the discovery of the empty tomb, the wonderment, the rejoicing… That too is now passed, and we are left wondering what do we do after Easter?

The story of Thomas provides a realistic model of how we might continue in faith in a world full of doubt. It may seem a bit odd to think of Thomas as a model—growing p, calling someone a “doubting Thomas” was a way of dismissing them as overly skeptical. It comes from this story—Thomas wasn’t with the group when Jesus originally appeared, and claims “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands…. I will not believe”.
Maybe Thomas is the realist—I certainly see myself in his character. Thomas knew Jesus was taken, and killed. He had been dead for three days. Peter and some of the disciples saw the empty tomb, but what a tragedy: they didn’t understand, says the gospel of John; someone had taken Jesus body. There’s the story of Mary, but this is only second hand. What is Thomas to believe: Jesus is dead, not alive.

Thomas wasn’t with the other disciples that first evening. The others were gathered, doors locked for fear of their persecutors. Jesus appeared to them then. But Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus came. The story doesn’t tell us why—was it too painful to be gathered together in the memory of their dead teacher? Perhaps Thomas had drawn away to be alone, to think, or to pray. Or perhaps, even, to despair.

Thomas wants proof that such a miraculous event could actually happen. Thomas does not want to succumb to wishful thinking. He rejoins the disciples. And after what must have been a long week, Jesus came among them again and Thomas answers with joy “My Lord and my God!”

We often draw on second-hand stories, stories from the Bible that teach us about God, stories from each other, when we’ve seen God in our own lives. But sometimes, we need more—and we rightly cry out to God “I want to see you in the flesh!” We may not be given an apparition of Jesus saying “Behold”—but I do think that if we look hard enough we can see God in our lives.

I said before that Thomas might provide a realistic model of faith. If he makes the most famous statement of doubt in the Bible, he also makes what I think is one of the most powerful statements of faith. A few chapters earlier in John, Jesus is going to back to Judea because Lazarus has died. “But haven’t they just tried to stone you there?” the disciples ask. But Thomas says, “Let us also go, that we may die with him”.

Thomas rightly recognized that following Jesus was a dangerous enterprise. But he believed in Jesus’ message, he loved his teacher so that he would follow him, even unto death. Again this was no wishful thinking faith—that everything would be fine.

This was true faith, true trust in following God even unto the valley of the shadow of death.

And so may we live in faith like Thomas, in a world in which we are so not sure that everything will work out right, in a world in which we have to keep going, even if we don’t have the benefit of a tangible presence of God. Let us seek God, and walk confidently with God even into the darkness.

Moses: Here I am Lord, Please send someone else.

Following a reading of excerpts from Exodus 2-4.

"Here I am, Lord. Please, send someone else."

Moses says both these things, and because he does, he is perhaps a very approachable model for understanding our vocation, the work we are called to do with our lives—not our careers, but our lives.

Moses was born to a Hebrew mother, but because Pharoah was engaging in genocide against the Hebrews, his mother set Moses out in a basket in the river. He was found by Pharoah’s daughter who then hired his mother to nurse him. His mother must have been a formative influence: while Moses was raised as an Egyptian, he never forgot his Hebrew roots.

When I read the story, I see a Moses who is angry at the oppression of his people. He sees an Egyptian beating a Hebrew—and maybe his anger overcame his self-interest of keeping your head down (and depending on your perspective, his anger may have overcome his better judgment). He saw this beating and he killed this Egyptian, and is then forced to flee.

Moses doesn’t put up with much—well, he puts up with a lot later on as a leader, but he’s consistently standing up for the oppressed. He’s fled now to another land, sitting a well. He sees some women trying to water their flocks get chased away by some other shepherds; he defends the women, and then marries one. That worked out pretty well for him.

And so, Moses is tending his father-in-law’s flocks when the passage we just read began. He sees a burning bush, hears God calling him, hides his face in fear. This may be Moses’ first encounter with God—we don’t know much about his religious life beforehand. Moses sees something amazing, he must be rejoicing inside that God is finally going to act on behalf of his oppressed people. Until Moses gets the news: God’s going to send Moses to Pharaoh. “Who am I to go to Pharaoh”—seems like a legitimate question. “What if they don’t believe me”, ok.

But as God outlines the plan, Moses ain’t buying it. At the end, he’s reduced to “God, I’m not that well spoken.” When that doesn’t work, I think he’s finally honest: O my Lord, please send someone else.

Many of us are in a similar situation. Perhaps there’s no burning bush, but there’s a tug on our hearts—God is calling us to do something. I feel it sometimes: I’m too weak, too busy, too tired, not good enough. And these are legitimate worries, but they’re hiding something else. I just really don’t want to do it.

God knows our limitation—there’ll be help we can draw on, just as God gave moses signs and aid in the form of his brother Aaron. But, “send someone else”—there is no one else. We’re it. We the church are God’s hands. You and I have each been given our own calling: there’s no one who can do your life’s work.

We will fail along the way, miss the mark, just like Moses did—things may seem to go very badly, we’ll have self-doubt, others will question our work. For someone who didn’t want the job, couldn’t speak very well, got so frustrated he smashed the ten commandments, Moses did pretty well with his life. And so we too we may do pretty well in life, if we stay in touch with God, with that burning bush moment, to sustain us on the journey that is our life.
Amen.