A Smorgasbord of Scriptural Fun

Our lectionary passages this week are Leviticus 19:1-2, 1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23, and Matthew 5:38-48. You can read them, as always, here.

Gosh...okay, there's too much fun in the lectionary this week to stick with one idea for this blog. So this week will be a buffet of biblical reflection...a veritable smorgasbord of subjects to think about. Take your pick:

Dish #1: Leviticus? Really? Yes, friends, you are seeing correctly. This is Leviticus' one shining moment in the sun, the one time in all three years of the Lectionary cycle that we read from this third book of the Hebrew Torah (or five books of the law--Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy...just in case you were wondering). Given much of Leviticus' nature, it's not surprising that only once in 150+ Sundays does this book show up: after all, it includes such lovely topics as why it's bad to eat shellfish (see chapter 11), how to properly sacrifice a goat (see chapter 16) and the grossly defiling effects of mold (chapters 13 and 14...real page turners). Yet...it is also in the heart of Leviticus, here in chapter 19, that we find what Jesus named as one of the two greatest commandments: the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves. I keep reading this passage for today and wonder if we've lost something in throwing Leviticus out with its strange litany of laws...yes, this is the book in the Bible where most of our New Year's Resolutions to read the Bible through hit a terrible wall. But what clues about the nature of God and God's desires from us might we have been missing in our omission? (And, just for the record, I don't think what we'll learn if we draw near to Leviticus is that God hates shrimp...)

Dish #2: Resisting Evil In our Saturday morning Bible Study, a serious question was raised: when Jesus says in Matthew 5, "Do not resist an evildoer," what is Jesus saying? What is meant by "resistance" here? I've done a lot of reading around this this week...and most commentators seem to agree that "resist" is an incredibly weak and probably not fully accurate translation of this statement by the NRSV (the translation we use most in worship). The word used here for "resist" is actually a term, in most of its other usages, that references warfare--it literally means "to stand against," naming that moment in battle when two armies have marched towards each other until they are literally face to face, standing against each other, and bloodshed is commencing. So what Jesus is saying here, it seems, is "do not go to violent battle against an evildoer"--do not take the same tactics that they take. What Jesus offers here are alternate forms of "standing against" evil that do not involve violence, it would seem. (Theologian Walter Wink has a lot to say about this, and is a great person to read if you are interested in learning more).

Dish #3: What Jesus REALLY Meant, Redux: In response to last week's blog post about ways to interpret the Sermon on the Mount, Nancy Lively (a member of our congregation currently teaching at a seminary in Prague) sent along some great words about the ways the student community at International Baptist Theological Seminary is seeking to base their life together upon the tenants of the Sermon on the Mount, and the stories they are uncovering of people who have chosen to live and act according to Jesus' words. Many of her students come from nations across Eastern and Central Europe that have seen great conflict throughout their lives; yet here, in community with one another, they are learning to live in peaceable ways, and to speak with great conviction that these teachings of Jesus are not just livable--they are vital if we are going to know the life that is truly life. I'm encouraged to know that a new generation of Christians and Christian leaders coming along are wrestling seriously with these questions along with us...any of you who are interested should get Nancy to share with you some of the things she has been learning from her students. Remarkable.

So there you go...enjoy, and see you Sunday as we dig into this scriptural feast, seeing how it might nourish our life together...

What does Jesus REALLY mean?

Our sermon texts this week are Deuteronomy 30:15-20, 1 Corinthians 3:1-9, and Matthew 5:21-37, found here.

Last week we talked about the interpretive challenge of the many apparent contradictions found in Jesus' core teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. This week, it seems that the broader question of how we interpret the Sermon on the Mount might be a good one for us to consider based on the comments I've been hearing around the church as we've dug into these texts. Things like, "If we took this literally, I'd be walking around without a right eye...or a hand...or legs..." and questions like, "Does Jesus mean we all have to do all of these things? How is this possible? It looks impossible."

The Sermon on the Mount as a whole can inspire these reactions in us. But perhaps no section more than this week's, where the things that plague us most--earthy things like anger, lust, making promises we can't keep, broken relationships--are confronted by Jesus head-on. We all get angry...so are we all subject to hell? Is calling someone an idiot really as bad as murder? If Jesus really wants us to gouge our eyes out when we look at someone lustfully, why are we not all walking around like pirates in eyepatches?

As you read these texts and wrestle with questions like these, I thought it might be useful to introduce some different ways people have looked at these texts over the years in their interpretations of them for practical living, as they've tried to answer that most annoying of questions: "What does Jesus REALLY mean?" I leave them up to your meditation, but do include my snapshot reflections on each view at the end.

Option 1: The Sermon Applies to Everyone, or to All Christians, and to All Times.

Early Christianity took this sermon quite literally, and problems quickly emerged (as expected) when Jesus' high ethic ran into a world that tends to run by the lowest common denominator.
So, interpreters have worked to figure out realistic ways the Sermon could still apply to everyone. Some say it is best to think of Jesus' teachings as standards of idealistic goals that, even if we cannot literally reach them, can at least provide us with direction for our ethical striving. The sermon, in the way, is seen as principles and attitudes that should influence our practice. Others (Martin Luther was a big proponent of this angle) said the sermon applies to us all at all times, but that its function is to help us all realize how much we are in need of grace as we cannot possibly live by this law. I don't love either of those spins; I don't believe Jesus was about scaring us into grace with visions of severed arms, but nor do I believe Jesus would speak this seriously if Jesus didn't really mean it and just wanted us to get the gist of what he was saying and do the best we can with it...this doesn't feel like Jesus to me.

Option 2: The Sermon Applies Only to Certain People.
During the Middle Ages some theologicans began to argue that the precepts of the Christian faith apply to all Christians, but that these loftier teachings are only for a select few--say, priests, monks, and nuns. This view says that as a few people embody this way of life, they help the Church as a whole be a witness to what life in the kingdom of God looks like. This feels like a cop-out to me, but maybe that's because I, as a minister, don't want to be the only one who has to live this way...I recognize that this sermon was aimed primarily at Jesus' inner circle of disciples, but he said it in the hearing of everyone...and Jesus never seemed elitist to me in the way that this view implies.

Option 3: The Sermon Applies Only to Certain Times.
Some have said this is the kingdom ethic that will be practiced during the millennial kingdom, after the second coming of Christ; or that Jesus expected the end of the world to come soon, so people would only have to live this way for a very brief period of time. Eh...this makes me nervous, too. Jesus was speaking in present tense. Jesus never mentioned time limits. And Jesus seemed to believe that with the constitution of this new community, the kingdom of God is already among us, not just a way that is to come...it's the way Jesus lived while on earth.

So....that clears it all up, doesn't it?

I read all these angles that try to make sense of what Jesus is saying, and wonder if our problem is just that: trying to make sense of what Jesus says. Because Jesus isn't trying to give us common sense wisdom for living in this world: he's trying to give us an uncommon way to defy the sense of the way this world works with our foolish way of the cross. We look at these standards and say, "There's no way to live this in the real world; we're just human," when maybe what we need to be asking ourselves is, "How do we live the witness of a different sort of world while in the midst of this one? How can we show that, yes, we're human, but we're animated by more than that--the Spirit of God lives within our broken lives and, on occasion, helps us live in a way that is radically different?" It's almost like Jesus is inviting us (as I mentioned in my post last week) to live with imagination that goes beyond lists and things that make sense...that wades us into the messiness that is human relationship that is always in flux, that challenges us to challenge the ways that are accepted and those least common denominators we've been living by and to believe we were called by Christ to something more...and can live into that something more, bit by bit, right now.

I don't know what Jesus really meant...but I don't think he was trying to trick us, maim us, chronically frustrate us with our own inadequacy, or leave us a helpless puddle of guilt. Nor do I think he was trying to let us off the hook in any way...I think he was challenging us to be that salt and light he had called us, to live for the sake of others in a way that transforms and gives life to the world--to choose life that others might live. How can we begin to choose this life in ways that are imaginative yet faithful, possible even as we toe the line of impossibility?

*I am indebted to Eugene Boring's outstanding commentary on the Sermon on the Mount found in the New Interpreter's Bible Commentary for helping me sift through these three options of how to read and apply Jesus' words in Matthew.

How is this possible?

Our lectionary texts for this week are Isaiah 58:1-12, 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, 16 and Matthew 5:13-20. You can read them in full here.

Have you ever noticed how much Jesus seems to contradict himself? If you were to carefully read all those red-letter (words of Jesus) portions of your Bible in one sitting, it would seem like Jesus often presents contrasting ways of discipleship that don't seem like they can simultaneously be true (see photo at right...it's really not too far off of this).

Nowhere do Jesus' seemingly contradictory tendencies show up more clearly than in some of his core teachings in the Sermon on the Mount. Take, for example, Jesus' famous statement in our Gospel text for the day:

"Let your light shine before all people, that they may see your good works and praise your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:16

How do we mesh this with Jesus' words just a few minutes later, according to Matthew's account:

"Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven." Matthew 6:1 (a theme Jesus continues for many verses after this).

Then look back at the Beatitudes we studied last week. How do we hold "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" together with Jesus' later question of, "How can the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is with them?" (Matthew 9:15). How can "Blessed are the peacemakers" be uttered by the same Teacher who declares, "Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword" (Matthew 10:34)? How does the One who tells us later in this sermon not to worry about tomorrow but focus only on this day (Matthew 6:34) later tell a parable condemning young women who fail to take enough oil with them to last more than one day in their lamps (Matthew 25:1-13)? Jesus, I would really love to live the way you teach me to live...but seriously, how is all of this possible?

We could go the route that some biblical scholars have gone and just write these things off as examples of contradictions in the Bible that should have been caught by good editors, showing us, perhaps, that these words are only human after all. We could (as many preachers have) try our hardest to weave these teachings together or harmonize them, compromising each until neither actually says what it initially said.

But I was completely struck--perhaps even captivated--this afternoon when I read the words of New Testament scholar Eugene Boring about the presence of these contradictions:

"The Gospel is not intended as a rule for life, but to stimulate imagination and personal responsibility. The jagged edges of Jesus' sayings should not be too quickly rounded off to make them consistent with other biblical teachings, or even each other. Talk of the kingdom of God generates a certain wildness that is lost if it is domesticated" (Eugene Boring, "Matthew" in The New Interpreter's Bible).

It makes me wonder if this is what Jesus meant when he said in the later part of our Gospel lesson, "I have not come to abolish [the law] but to fulfill [it]" (Matthew 5:18). Is this what it looks like to live fulfilling the law--not to follow orderly, logical steps but to dance between the contradictions, learning our own place and embracing the wildness of it all if it allows us to imagine and begin to create a whole new world, if it lets us participate in and experience God's kingdom here on earth?

I'm still chewing on it, but wow...I sure like that idea. What do you think?

The Sermon on the Mount

Our lectionary readings this week are Micah 6:1-8, 1 Corinthians 1:18-31, and Matthew 5:1-12. You can read them here.

Over the next few weeks, our Gospel readings all come from the inaugural sermon of Jesus' ministry according to Matthew's Gospel: The Sermon on the Mount, that rich block of teaching that makes up chapters 5-7. We will be experiencing all of chapter 5 and a chunk of chapter 6 over the next few weeks, giving us a rare opportunity to immerse ourselves in this sermon over a period of time, to hear how Jesus' words are still words that hold power for us.

I have a couple of good clergy friends who are preaching the next few weeks under a sermon series title that's something like "The Greatest Sermon Ever." I can hardly dispute this--the Sermon on the Mount is amazing. But I didn't want to use this title to frame our next few weeks, because I don't think what Jesus was trying to do here was preach a great sermon (though it was) that would be forever immortalized (though it has been) and make him famous and beloved (which it did...though, as is true for most who preach prophetically, that beloved thing didn't really last and didn't fully sink in til after he was long gone from this earth and was no longer ruffling the people's feathers on a weekly basis). I think Jesus' intention here was in shaping a community. He gives this sermon just after calling the disciples and going out among the people healing for the first time; these people are now following him around, and Jesus sees that they are ripe for the harvest (to swipe a metaphor he will use elsewhere). Speaking to them, having their total focus on the mountain as they are isolated away from everyday life, is a prime opportunity for Jesus to begin to reshape their imaginations and worldviews and perspectives and priorities--to begin to paint a picture for them of what their new Life Together in community might look like.

This week, we get only the opening lines of Jesus' sermon--those oft-quoted lines of the Beatitudes (a title that comes from the Latin word for "blessed" which shows up so many times in this passage). Jesus begins not with a clear to-do (or not-to-do) list like the 10 commandments, as God did when God began to shape the Israelites after their exodus from Egypt. Jesus begins with words that read more like a poem, or a riddle--setting an early precendent for the way he will teach mostly not with clear cut mandates, but with parables that invite the people to engage themselves in the interpretation.

What is the significance of Jesus' choice to begin by speaking about blessedness?

What does it mean to be blessed?

How can we use this poetic introduction as a lens through which to encounter and interpret the rest of Jesus' sermon? We often read and study the beatitudes in isolation from the rest of Matthew 5-7...but they are very clearly linked to this larger text. How can making the connection help us live into them?

As we prepare for these weeks of spending time with Jesus' sermon and figuring out what it might mean for our Life Together as the people of God and as Broadneck Baptist Church, this week I would encourage you to take 20 or 30 minutes and read Matthew 5-7 straight through without stopping, to get the feel of the sermon from start to finish. What kind of impact does it make on you? And how would the sermon have felt different if it had begun, say, with verse 13 rather than with this declaration of blessing?

Food for thought, as usual, as we begin this most interesting journey together. May we allow ourselves and our life together to be shaped anew by Jesus' words to us in the coming weeks.

"I'll Take Old Testament Geography for $800, Alex..."

Our lectionary readings this week are Isaiah 9:1-4, 1 Corinthians 1:10-18, and Matthew 4:12-24--give them a read through here, paying special attention to the Isaiah reading and the first part of the Matthew reading, which will be the focus of our comments below!



Have you ever been in a situation where things are referenced from the past that everybody around you seems to know about, but that don't ring a bell for you? Maybe you were the youngster in a group reminiscing about a sitcom from 30 years ago or a certain 8-track recording that was all the rage...maybe you are from an older generation and have found yourself unable to decipher the text message slang and pop culture references batted about by a group of teens...maybe you have been in a church where past members are referenced as if they are still present, but you have no idea who they are and no frame of reference for what dropping their name might mean.



In reading today's passage from Isaiah, and its subsequent quotation by Matthew, it would be easy for us to glaze over at some of Isaiah's references like someone in a group where everyone else is clued in about something that's foreign to you. "In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations...the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian." Naphtali? Zebulun? Midian? Where on earth are these places? What was Isaiah referencing? And what did the beginning of Jesus' ministry have to do with these ancient allusions hundreds of years later? To spend any time on these hard-to-pronounce ancient names may seem like a waste of our time...but if we travel back in Israel's history to look at the meaning of each of these locations, I think we may find some incredible parallels in them to our own time and place.


First, to Naphtali and Zebulun--the names of two of Jacob's lesser known sons, and two of the lesser known regions of ancient Israel. The tribes of Naphtali and Zebulun were given acreage in the northern region of the Promised Land--not prime real estate. They may have had some nice waterfront along the Sea of Galilee, but borders were also in perilously close proximity to basically every superpower that would beat up on Israel. They would become the first part of the land to be overrun by Assyria, plunging its residents into the darkness of exile and force servitude to a foreign king long before residents of Jerusalem and the southern kingdom of Judah. These lands were isolated and vulnerable, and hence most subject to abuse and oppression of any of Israel's peoples.




Isaiah proclaims that it is these run-down regions will be raised up "as on the day of Midian." Anyone out there who can tell me the meaning of Midian? Anyone? Well, in case you have not memorized Judges 6, God once told Gideon to go take on the Midianites, an invading army that was threatening Israel with troops more numerous than locusts and too many camels to be counted. Gideon, reluctantly, raises an army of thousands; but then God makes him cut his numbers, cut cut cut until only three hundred fighters remain, so that all will know that the victory was won by God and not by human force. Not only does Gideon take a tiny army to battle, the only weapons he is allowed to take are trumpets and torches--yet God gives Gideon and his ragtag band the victory over the mighty Midian.

SO...why is this strange passage, referencing these long-ago places and events from Israel's history, the one Matthew chooses to reference as Jesus begins his public ministry? Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali— fulfilling what was said through the prophet Isaiah: “Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— the people living in darkness have seen a great light." Jesus, it seems, has chosen intentionally to set up his initial camp and call out his community not from the power center of Jerusalem, or from among a more prestigious neighborhood in Judah, but from among these fishing communities located along the sea. The band of followers that Jesus would gather together out of this region would not look powerful or formidable: like Gideon's crew that took on Midian, they would be small in number and not act in traditional ways...but they would pull something off that could only be done by God's power as they dropped their fishing nets to go follow Jesus in his incredible mission. Jesus chose to gather his disciples in a neighborhood that was off the beaten path, full of working people, vulnerable--and to gather not hundreds of them, but a dozen who would grow in knowledge, faithfulness, and eventually number to transform the world.

OK...so maybe this is a stretch. But I couldn't help but notice...Cape St. Claire is a bit of a seaside community, isn't it? Broadneck is located in community much like Naphtali and Zebulun in many ways...a coastal, water-centered community of people working hard, located somewhat outside of the city center and Annapolis' center of power, an assortment of ordinary people trying to get by. It's a community that may look idyllic on the outside but that has also known the darknesses of prejudice, mental illness, economic hardship, and violence in its day. In the midst of this community, here we have intentionally planted ourselves, just as Jesus did--not to be a mega church, but to be a Gideon-like community of committed people living in non-traditional ways, seeking to let God work through us against all odds. I wonder what kind of power Jesus' choice for where to begin his ministry--in the traditions of Naphtali, Zebulun, and Midian--could have for how we continue to define ours?

Like I said, it may been too much of a stretch. But when we get to know our Old Testament Geography, it sure can give us interesting food for thought as we consider our own geography in this time and place.

Are We Answering to the Wrong Name?

Our Lectionary Readings this week are Isaiah 49:1-7, 1 Corinthians 1:1-9, and John 1:29-42. You can read this week's passages here.

I'm starting to wonder if we've gotten it all wrong. I mean...has anyone noticed that this will be the fourth Sunday out of our past seven that we've had to deal with John the Baptist? He keeps showing up, as one commentator put it, "like the cat who refused to take the hint when I've thrown him off my lap for the twentieth time."

We've gotten a lot of different pictures of John over the past few weeks: one preaching in the wilderness of the one who is to come; one who wonders if it is legit for him to baptize Jesus when Jesus is so much greater than him; but perhaps it is this week's picture of John that brings all the pictures together. If you were to Google pictures of John the Baptist, in almost every picture he is pointing away from himself, towards something else: whether it's a photograph reenactment, a Sunday School picture, or an icon of John, his index finger, nine times out of ten, is pointed away from himself. One person suggested that if John had a Facebook page, his Profile Picture would be a long finger, pointing away from himself, and every response to a Wall Post from his friends would be something like, "Go on over to the Lamb's page." This is because if John was certain of anything, it was his place: "I am not the One," John kept saying. "Don't look at me; look at him." Or, as he will say elsewhere in John's gospel, "He must increase, as I decrease." This, perhaps, is why this is pretty much the last time we'll meet John in our lectionary year after his prominence at the beginning.

John knew his place: He was not Jesus. He was a messenger, a witness, one sent to testify that others may see and follow Jesus. In this way...I wonder if John is a better model for our calling than Jesus is? After all, what John does is what we are to do: use our lives to point towards Christ, being willing to give up our own prominence that Jesus' true place may be honored, doing the work of baptism not for our own sakes or glory but as a way to testify about this One who baptizes with the Spirit? Maybe we've taken the wrong model for our life of faith...maybe, instead of calling ourselves Christians, we should call ourselves Baptists.

Oh, wait. We already do that. Johnians? Well, you get my point, hopefully: John models for us what following Jesus should look like in terms of how it shapes our lives.

Except for one thing: one really, really, really major detail. John, as best as we can tell, never follows Jesus...not physically, at least. He doesn't follow Jesus out of the desert and into the cities like his disciples do; he is not found with him on the Mount for the Sermon, he is not sent out with the 72 into all the towns to share the good news, he is not around to receive Jesus' post-resurrection commission nor the Pentecostal gift of the Spirit. As best as we can tell, John never actually follows the pointing of his own finger: he sees who Jesus is and declares this, but never changes the pattern and path of his life to actually follow him.

So I take it back. I have nothing but respect for John's witness in the desert; but why did he never take his witness beyond this? Why did he not lay down his title and follow Jesus, too? Why was he never transformed from John the Baptist into John the Christian?

All of this, I think, can raise questions for our discipleship. How are our fingers pointing to Jesus? This is a part of John's witness that we want to imitate--we want to invite people to behold Jesus. But we want to follow the wisdom of John's disciples, too...being aware enough to go where that finger points, to go on the hard journey of following Jesus out of the wilderness and into the world, even when we do not know where Jesus is leading. How can the movement of our lives point to Jesus as well, making us truly Christians as we walk in his dusty footsteps?

What's In a Voice?

Our readings for this week are Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, and Matthew 3:13-17. You can read them here.

What's in a voice? I found an amazing answer to that question this week as I perused my favorite news source, ESPN.com. There, amidst stories about the NFL playoffs and Baseball Hall of Fame elections, was the story of one of the countless homeless men who roams the streets of Columbus, Ohio. This man, however, had something that set him apart: before falling into addiction, Ted Williams had been a radio announcer, and he still possessed a silky deep voice that literally had the power to stop traffic as he stood beside the road asking for help. As he demonstrated his voice off of an interstate exit ramp, a local news videographer stopped and shot some footage of Williams that took the internet by storm, much as the voice of Susan Boyle did when she unexpectedly blew away the panel of "Britain's Got Talent" with sounds that seemed to belong more to an angel than a plain middle aged woman. Williams' voice appears to be landing him a second chance: the Cleveland Cavaliers, upon seeing the video and hearing his amazing golden tone, have offered him a job in announcing work with their NBA team--a job that could very well help him get off the streets and turn his life around. (You can read the whole article here).

This story resonated with me this week in particular because of the powerful ways voice is at the center of our lectionary readings. Isaiah speaks of a servant whose voice stands in contrast to so many of the ostentatious voices of his world: this voice will not break the wounded, but will bring about justice. God's voice is heard in this passage as well: it is calling God's people in righteousness and declaring God's good intention to do a new thing, to turn things around.

Voices take center stage in the Matthew reading as well: the voice of John the Baptist no longer confidently crying out in the wilderness, but confusedly wondering why Jesus is coming to him to be baptized. In response, we hear Jesus' voice for the first time in the New Testament, a voice of absolute trust and obedience even in this act that doesn't seem to make a lot of sense: "let it be so," Jesus says. A voice that rips open the sky confirms that Jesus has done the right thing in acquiescing to God's strange leadings: God's voice affirming Jesus as God's Son and the one with whom God is well pleased likely became a memory that sustained Jesus during some of the darkest times of his ministry, and that gave him an impetus for the difficult actions that lay before him.

Acts brings us the voice of Peter, seeking to interpret for his audience all of the unusual things that God was bringing to pass around them. Speaking with bold confidence, Peter tells them the great story of what was begun when Jesus came out of Galilee to be baptized: a ministry of healing and help that ended in death, but was made whole in resurrection--a ministry that now belongs also to those who enter the baptismal waters after Christ.

As we move further into this new year and consider the meaning of Jesus' baptism this week and of our own call to baptism as well, it seems like a good time to pay attention to voices--to the voice of God and its call in our life; to the voices God has given us and the ways we are called to exercise those voices in this world; to the voices of those around us questioning and crying out for mercy. That God spoke at Jesus' baptism is a detail all of the Gospels agree upon...what is God speaking over us as we begin this new year as disciples, and what is God calling us to use the gift of our voices to do?