Revelation of the Son of Man: Lord of the Sabbath

One sabbath while Jesus was going through the grainfields, his disciples plucked some heads of grain, rubbed them in their hands, and ate them. But some of the Pharisees said, “Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” Jesus answered, “Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God and took and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and gave some to his companions?” Then he said to them, “The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.”

On another sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him. Even though he knew what they were thinking, he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come and stand here.” He got up and stood there. Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” After looking around at all of them, he said to him, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was restored. But they were filled with fury and discussed with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God. And when day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, and James, and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and Simon, who was called the Zealot, and Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor. --Luke 1:1-16 (NRSV)

I deeply empathize with the Pharisees in our text today. Perhaps it's our human nature to want to find someone to blame in a conflict. As though the lines are clearly drawn. That everything is either black or
white. That there’s no gray area whatsoever.

The Pharisees have been misunderstood and misaligned for centuries. While they are often described as rule-keepers or as those who maintain the regulations of religious observance in scripture, they are anything but. In fact, one of the primary gifts of the Pharisees to the Jewish religious observance in Jesus’ time is a democratization of it. That devotional practice could be followed anywhere or by anyone without direct oversight by religious leaders. In fact, the Pharisees of Jesus’ day could be categorized today as mainline Protestants. Like us. 

So, then, you might ask, what’s the point of these three little vignettes that make up our reading today? The first two that are connected to healing and a controversy around the Sabbath. And, then, the third that is the story of Jesus choosing the twelve.

Let me begin at the ending. Because the story of Jesus calling the twelve apostles connects to our story from last week, where Jesus called Peter. In the time between last week’s story and today’s, it is apparent that Jesus’ power and authority is growing. Through his acts of healing and his speaking and teaching, his influence is expanding. The religious leaders are beginning to take note. And to push back, challenging who this Jesus is and under whose authority he is operating. 

As this buzz and murmuring is growing, we come to the beginning of our story today. Two examples of “breaking” the sabbath that involve Jesus and his, not-yet-formally-called, disciples. Notice that in his comments, Jesus never dismisses or devalues the Sabbath. He does not claim that the Sabbath is unimportant. Instead, Jesus makes two important claims about it.

The first. That he is Lord of the Sabbath, and not the other way around. The Sabbath does not dictate Jesus’s actions. His statement justifies Sabbath observance, but perhaps with a modification. That modification is the second claim that Jesus makes - that doing good on the Sabbath is lawful. 

Now, maybe for us today, it’s hard relate. After all, It has been centuries since the Christian church has kept the “true” Sabbath, from dusk on Friday to dusk on Saturday. And, in these last many decades, it’s questionable whether even the “Lord’s Day” or Sunday is still observed as a Sabbath in our culture. I wonder how many of us, pre-pandemic, would not hesitate to meet friends for brunch after worship, or to stop by the grocery store, or to mow the lawn, or to attend a soccer match. All of which could be, technically, violations of God’s Sabbath command. 

Perhaps, for us in our time, it’s not so much the question of the Sabbath that really matters here, but that what is more at stake are the underlying issues in this conflict. The question that lies under the challenge of the Pharisees to Jesus and under Jesus’ response to them, and, also, underneath Luke’s decision to include these stories in his story, is about how we, as people of God, hold onto our traditions in light of a world and in the midst of circumstances in our world that are ever-changing.

By claiming authority over the Sabbath, Jesus is reminding us that God is the one who has authority over, not only the Sabbath, but over the people who steward the practices and institutions given by God. Reminding us that institutions that resist the ministry of Jesus are acting contrary to God’s purpose in the world. 

What is this ministry of Jesus? He sets it out to the Pharisees, and to us, in the question he asks in verse 9. “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” That’s the test for us. It is to ask ourselves whether or not we should hold onto traditions that destroy life and do harm. Or whether we should modify our practices in ways that are life giving and good. 

Both of our congregations have long traditions as Reconciling in Christ communities. Claiming this identity publicly means that we are communities that are committed to welcome, to inclusion, to the celebration and advocacy for all people of all sexual orientations, gender identities and gender expressions; with a commitment to anti-racism and to working for racial equity. We do this because this is consistent with God’s purpose in the world. Which is never about death or doing harm to others, but always about life and wholeness, abundance and goodness for everyone. 

May we celebrate this today about our communities of faith. But, mostly, may we celebrate this about our God. Amen.

Preached on January 31, 2021, with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches.

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: Luke 6:1-16; Psalm 92

The Call to Serve: Authority and a Few Other Things

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; from Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior; and from the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

These are unusual times we are living in, aren’t they? Such dramatic change in just a week. The cancellation of major festivals, major sporting events, school classes, even worship. A declaration of a world-wide pandemic. Travel restrictions. The shutting down of offices and other buildings. The upheaval in the stock market and the oil market. It might almost feel for us as though we are in the midst of a cosmic change. 

Similarly, the direction of my sermon has changed dramatically from where I first started. Because everything is just changing. Quickly. So, today, I’m going to touch on six different topics that may seem completely unrelated. It is my hope (and my prayer!) that, by the end, I will have been able to weave them together. So, here they are: Authority. Vineyards. Economic systems. David Brooks. Pandemics. And Luther (and a little bit of Bonhoeffer!). 

Topic number one. Authority. The question of authority is at the heart of our text today. It isn’t part of our Gospel reading, but, if you back up to the very end of chapter 11, to the part that just precedes today’s reading, the questions that Jesus is asked by the chief priests, the legal experts, and the elders - in other words, the religious leaders. The two questions they ask of Jesus are: “What kind of authority do you have for doing these things? And who gave it to you?”

You see, since the very beginning of Mark, Jesus has been throwing his authority around all over the place. Healing people who are sick. Restoring sight to the blind. Releasing demons from people. (Demons, who, by the way, know and recognize Jesus’ authority.) The authority of Jesus has been oozing out all over the place. So, when he is asked this question by the religious leaders about his authority, his response is to tell them a parable. About a vineyard. 

Jesus spoke to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the winepress, and built a tower. Then he rented it to tenant farmers and took a trip. When it was time, he sent a servant to collect from the tenants his share of the fruit of the vineyard. But they grabbed the servant, beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. Again the landowner sent another servant to them, but they struck him on the head and treated him disgracefully. He sent another one; that one they killed. The landlord sent many other servants, but the tenants beat some and killed others. Now the landowner had one son whom he loved dearly. He sent him last, thinking, They will respect my son. But those tenant farmers said to each other, ‘This is the heir. Let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ They grabbed him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard.

“So what will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy those tenants and give the vineyard to others. Haven’t you read this scripture, The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. The Lord has done this, and it’s amazing in our eyes?”

They wanted to arrest Jesus because they knew that he had told the parable against them. But they were afraid of the crowd, so they left him and went away. --Mark 12:1-12. 

Topic number two. Vineyards. The image of a vineyard is common in scripture. I counted it up yesterday and the word is used 118 times through both testaments. In the Hebrew scripture, there are 95 references alone to the imagery of vineyards. Last fall, we heard a love song about a vineyard in Isaiah 5. Well, really, it was a break up song about a vineyard and its owner, where Israel was portrayed metaphorically as the well-tended, but unproductive vineyard of Yahweh. 

Would it surprise you to learn that the description of the vineyard in today’s reading is the same description as the one in Isaiah, which was a vineyard with a pit for a winepress and a watchtower?Planted by a man who characterizes the vineyard as his beloved Israel. This beloved community that he has cared for and guided and served. And that has responded, in turn, with injustice and bloodshed.

In Mark’s gospel parable, there’s still a landowner. And a vineyard. But there’s a little twist, added characters to the story. Tenant farmers. And slaves. And a son.

Now, we with our 21st century understanding, might be a little offended by this parable and, particularly, of the imbalance of power between the wealthy landowner and the tenant farmers, who are really sharecroppers. But, if we remember that parables use common elements that are understood by the audience to teach them something they don’t understand, we have to look at this parable with first century eyes.

Because this practice was common under Roman rule. It even has a term connected to it - latifundia. These were great landed estates specializing in crops for export, such as grain, olive oil, or wine. They were the closest example in ancient times to our industrialized agriculture. And their economics depended entirely upon slavery.

Topic number three. Economic systems. If this economic system of Rome sounds familiar, it should. Because, it’s a practice that has been carried down through centuries. Such as by European monarchies who often gave large grants of land to reward services by people to them or their empire - exactly how parts of the US were settled. It’s a model we learned well as we created a similar economy built on slavery. On people. Human beings imported as chattel to prop up and sustain unjust economic systems. That pit poor people against other poor people. That benefit the wealthy. Economic systems that still persist today. 

Whatever we understand about this vineyard, it is clear that something is amiss. That there is a power struggle happening here. Between the owner and the tenants. First, the tenants try to flip the power. Then, the owner takes back the power and gets in new tenants.

Now, I have to stop for just a moment and make a corrective here. For way too long this parable has been used as a parable to talk about the end of Israel as God’s beloved and Christians as the “new tenants” in the story. That the Jews had their shot and now it's time for Christians. This is simply wrong. And hurtful. Because there’s an interesting word in verse 9. The word translated “destroy.” In Greek, it’s a term that is used to describe the destruction of evil as a result of an apocalyptic upheaval. Its use here suggests that the destruction carried out by the landowner is not about a people, but a cosmic battle between good and evil. And that Jesus, the cornerstone, is in the midst of this battle. A battle that will result in the destruction of evil and of evil systems that continue to exploit people and creation. 

And, if you still don’t think that this parable is about economic systems, then look at the very next part of the story. When the religious leaders realize that Jesus is talking about them, they get angry and they want to arrest and destroy him, but they can’t because of the crowd. So, they send others to entrap him. By talking about nothing other than money. And taxes. Boom.

They sent some of the Pharisees and supporters of Herod to trap him in his words. They came to him and said, “Teacher, we know that you’re genuine and you don’t worry about what people think. You don’t show favoritism but teach God’s way as it really is. Does the Law allow people to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay taxes or not?”

Since Jesus recognized their deceit, he said to them, “Why are you testing me? Bring me a coin. Show it to me.” And they brought one. He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Jesus said to them, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” His reply left them overcome with wonder. --Mark 12:13-17. 

The religious leaders send two groups - Pharisees and Herodians - who approach Jesus with flattery and false praise, and then hit him up with a question to which there is no good answer. And Jesus knows it. So, he answers with a non-answer. But, first, he asks them for a coin. And they give him a Roman coin, with a picture of Caesar on it. By giving him this coin, they implicate themselves - that they have bought into an economy that they decry. Because, as Jesus points out, if you participate in an economy, then you have a responsibility. To pay taxes.

But, do you notice that Jesus doesn’t have a coin with the image of Caesar in his pocket? Is this a message that, perhaps, he is rejecting the entire economy of the empire, particularly one that exploits the poor? 

Which brings me to topics number four and five. David Brooks and Pandemics. On Thursday, conservative columnist David Brooks wrote in the NY Times about what pandemics do. How they drive people apart. Because in these moments, fear can drive people. It can drive us away from each other as the possibility of death drives away concern for no one but ourselves and our loved ones. Witness the hoarding and panic buying over these past few days. Witness the privilege that allows us to be able to afford to hoard, when we know that pandemic always hits the poorest and most vulnerable in our community the hardest. All out of fear.

But, it’s not only fear that drives people in times of pandemic. So does shame. Because in the midst of pandemic, hard, life-and-death choices have to be made. They’re being made today. By doctors in Italy, for example, who because of a limited number of ventilators, are having to decide who gets one and who doesn’t.

But, these hard choices are not all that drives shame. As Brooks was researching the 1918 flu pandemic for his column, he was surprised by how few books or plays had been written about it. He wrote that roughly 675,000 American lost their lives in that one year, compared with 53,000 dead in the four-year period of World War 1. Yet, little was written about it. It seemed to leave almost no mark in culture. Why? Because, when it was over, people would not talk about it because they were ashamed at how they had responded. With one exception. Healthcare workers. Who responded then, as they do today, with heroism and compassion.

Which brings me to my final topic. Number six. Luther. (And that little bit of Bonhoeffer!) In 1527, ten years after the Reformation, the bubonic plague, which had been winding its way through Europe, struck Wittenberg, Germany. The political leader of this area, Elector John, fearing for the safety of Luther and the other professors at Wittenberg University, ordered them to leave town. Luther, along with another professor, refused. Instead he stayed to minister to those who were sick and frightened. Seventeen days later, there were 18 deaths, including the wife of the mayor, who died in Luther’s arms. Eventually, the plague receded. Yet soon after, clergy from a neighboring town now affected by it, wrote him a letter to ask his advice. Whether they should stay to serve the community or whether they should leave to preserve their own lives.

Here’s what he had to say. “This I well know, that if it were Christ or his mother who were laid low by illness, everybody would be so solicitous and would gladly become a servant or helper. Everyone would want to be bold and fearless; nobody would flee but everyone would come running….If you wish to serve Christ and to wait on him, very well, you have your sick neighbor close at hand. Go to him and serve him, and you will surely find Christ in him….”

In addition, he also said was that, in the process of serving our neighbor, we were to use our brains. To follow careful safety precautions. To use care to prohibit spread. All of the things that we are doing today.

Now, just a little bit of Bonhoeffer. After being arrested, Bonhoeffer was imprisoned for some time as he awaited his fate. It was in this time that he truly began to reflect what it meant to be human. And to be true community. To be a beloved community. He wrote: "To be Christian does not mean to live in a specified religious way...but, it means to be human, not a particular human type. Christ creates true humanity in us. It is not religious acts that a Christian does, but participation in the suffering of Christ in worldly life.” 

Dear friends, we are in unusual times. Are they part of some apocalyptic cosmic change to overturn unjust economic systems in our world? I don’t know. But, what I do know is that we have been created to be in beloved community with one another and with the world, especially where there is suffering, because this is where we will find Christ. We have been called to serve those here in our congregation and in the world who are most vulnerable and at risk. To take care to stop the spread of this disease. And, mostly, to love and support one another in this time of fear and anxiety. 

We do this, not because it will gain us salvation, but because salvation has already been gained for us. By God’s authority in Christ, who is our chief cornerstone and our true vine. Who frees us and, then, nourishes us so that we might go out into the world and with the Holy Spirit beside us bear fruit in the beloved vineyard of God. 

May God guide and keep us in this time. Amen.

Preached during virtual worship on Sunday, March 15, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Lent 3
Reading: Mark 12:1-17

Invitation to Abundant Life: Questions?

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” John 3:1-21 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I like to go to the theatre. My apartment in Los Angeles was very close to Santa Monica Blvd. This boulevard, as it runs through East Hollywood, is home to a number of very small theatres. Average seating is around 25-30. They’re very intimate. They’re also very cheap. For $10-15, one can see a wide variety of plays, some very new and avant garde. Others more traditional. Every so often, I would trek to this area to see a play.

So, as I was preparing for this Sunday’s sermon, I read a commentary by Lindsey Trozzo, who is a professor of biblical ethics and rhetoric at Baylor University. In her opening paragraph, she suggested thinking of the Gospel of John as a multi-act play or a TV mini-series. That caught my attention and helped me re-think not only our story today, but also what we’ve already heard so far in the Gospel.

Think about it. By the time we get to today’s story, we’ve already witnessed a poetic opening monologue from the narrator of the Gospel. “In the beginning, was the Word…”

We’ve visualized a few short scenes that portray Jesus’ first interactions with John the Baptist and with the disciples. And we’ve experienced two rather heavy-hitting scenes that establish the identity of Jesus as the Messiah and as the One to initiate a new era of God’s work in the world--to usher in a radical shift. One who will challenge the status quo. One with the authority to challenge the status quo.

Last week, at the very end of the scene of Jesus’ cleansing the temple, we heard these closing words: “When [Jesus] was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was.” 

Blackout. End of scene. 

“Jesus didn’t trust himself to them...for he knew what human nature was.” What can we expect to hear or see in the next scene--in today’s scene--in chapter 3?

As the lights come up on the scene in John 3, we are invited to eavesdrop on a conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus. Now, Nicodemus, our story tells us, is a “Pharisee...a Jewish leader…[who comes] to Jesus at night.”

These details are important. They are important because this story of Nicodemus and our story next week of the Samaritan woman at the well are intentionally placed together by the Gospel writer. These two characters are unique only to John. They could not be more different.

Nicodemus is male. He’s a leader of the Jews, a Pharisee, likely a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling body of the Jewish people, having authority not only the religious life of the Jewish people, but their everyday lives, as well. He has a name. And he comes to Jesus by night.

In contract, our next week character is female. She is a Samaritan. From the Jewish perspective, an enemy and a nobody. She is nameless. She meets Jesus at the well at noon--the brightest, lightest time of the day.

John places their stories--their scenes side-by-side. Purposefully. So, that we can see the contrast. The unique differences between them.

So, Nicodemus--this person on the inside of society with substantial power and authority--comes to Jesus in the dark. Remember that in John, darkness is synonymous with unbelief. Already, we have the idea that, if this is a nighttime conversation, the chances for a positive result will probably not be good.

“Rabbi,” Nicodemus says, using a title of respect.  “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. Because no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

With this dialogue that opens our scene, it seems that Nicodemus has come to seek understanding. To learn from Jesus. But, Jesus’ response is confusing. Perhaps on purpose. His responses are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. But, as has happened before, they are meant to further the conversation. To generate even more questions. To invite one in to a new way of thinking. And, in the process, to lead one to a fuller understanding of who Jesus is.

The challenge for Nicodemus is that he gets hung up in the physical aspects of Jesus’ words. When Jesus is talking about a spiritual birth--being born again from above--Nicodemus misunderstands and thinks Jesus is talking about a physical birth. A physical birth that, especially for a grown man, would be completely impossible. 

But, that’s not what Jesus is referring to here. It’s about receiving new life in the Spirit--a new life that comes in a spiritual rebirth. A new birth that takes its form as faith. A new birth that brings with it a relationship with God.

Nicodemus doesn’t get it. Because Nicodemus, with all of his theological knowledge and training, thinks that what he does--how he acts and lives--is what will bring him into relationship with God. Instead, the radical shift in thought that Jesus is offering to Nicodemus is a new understanding for him. That it has nothing to do with what he does. But, that it has everything to do with what God does. Nicodemus is nothing more than a passive recipient of faith from above. A passive receiver of faith from God the Holy Spirit.

Nicodemus doesn’t get it. He is not yet prepared to see things differently. Or not yet, anyway. Because he shows up in a couple more scenes. And, although, we are left to fill in some of the details of those scenes, it does appear that the Spirit continues to work on him. And that, by the time of Jesus’ death, he is walking out of the darkness and toward the light.

What does your scene in this play look like? What’s your part in this story? What are your questions? What would you ask Jesus? What, like Nicodemus, keeps you away from fully experiencing the light? Or what is it about the darkness that seems to keep you safe--that keeps you away from a deeper faith? That keeps you from stepping out of your status quo and into a deeper relationship with God?

Come in. Come into the story. Ask your questions. Come into a deeper understanding. Come into a new life--a life that Jesus invites each of us into. A life of abundance. A life of relationship. A life of love. Forever and ever.

Blackout. End of scene.

Amen.

Preached January 28, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

Readings: Psalm 139:13-18, John 3:1-21

Privilege, Perspective, Power

Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who stood by him, and he cried out, “Send everyone away from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence.

Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me, do not delay. You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there—since there are five more years of famine to come—so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.’ And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. You must tell my father how greatly I am honored in Egypt, and all that you have seen. Hurry and bring my father down here.” Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him. 
  ----Genesis 45:1-15 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Good morning to you. It is good to be back. I am grateful for the days off I’ve had, which have given me a chance to reflect, renew and refresh. I’m also grateful to be back. 

Because I missed a Sunday, we have a bit of catching up to do in our stories of Abraham and his descendants--these legends we’ve been working our way through during this entire summer.

If you recall, last week’s Genesis story was that of Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers. You remember it, don’t you? How Jacob, Joseph’s father, showed favoritism to Joseph, his youngest son. (Have we heard this somewhere before?) And how Jacob gave Joseph a robe of many colors, making his brothers incredibly jealous. So jealous, in fact, that when they were out tending sheep, they stripped him of his technicolor dreamcoat and threw him into an empty cistern or well. And then sold him to a caravan of Ishmaelites traveling with their wares to Egypt. Then, to make matters even worse, they took dipped Joseph’s cloak in ram’s blood and returned home to tell Joseph that his youngest son was dead.

Do you see and hear, once again, the generations and generations of brokenness? So you see and hear, once again, the hatred and anger that simply seems to be carried from generation to generation?

As our story opens today, we find Joseph in a high position of power in Egypt. In fact, he is the administrator over all of Egypt. It has been a winding road to this point, one filled with false accusations and betrayal, with incarceration, and with dream interpretation. In fact, it was Joseph’s ability to interpret Pharoah’s dreams of feast and famine that led to his appointment to such a powerful position, notwithstanding his complete lack of experience. 

Under Joseph’s administration, Egypt has grown dramatically in size, as surrounding nations have looked to it for sustenance during a 7-year famine.

As the famine has gripped the entire region, Jacob has told his sons to go from Canaan to Egypt to buy grain. They appear before Joseph, who recognizes them. However, the sons--Joseph’s brothers--don’t recognize Joseph. And Joseph doesn’t reveal who he is. Instead, he uses his power over his brothers. He first demands that they go home and return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. He, then, imprisons his brother Simeon until they do. 

When the food finally runs out in Canaan, they decide to return with Benjamin. Joseph invites them to dinner. There, they share a meal with Joseph. And they still don’t recognize him. 

What happens next is either a test or a second act of revenge by Joseph. Joseph instructs his servant to slip a silver cup in Benjamin’s sack. He then confronts his brothers about the alleged theft and threatens to arrest Benjamin. Joseph’s brothers beg him not to do this. And Judah volunteers to trade places with Benjamin. 

It is here where today’s story begins. Joseph. So overwhelmed with emotion. Unable to conceal his identity any longer. Joseph sends all of his attendants away. Only his brothers remain. 

Joseph then reveals who he is to them--that he is their youngest brother, the one they sold into slavery those many years ago. He also shares with them, though, how God has used this evil act to save the lives of many, many people. 

Our story today ends with these words: “He (Joseph) kissed all of his brothers and wept, embracing them. After that, his brothers were finally able to talk to him.”

Reconciliation. After all that has happened between Joseph and his brothers, after the original evil act, after the acts of revenge--after everything, the relationship between Joseph and his brothers is restored. They are reconciled. 

As I hear this story once again--this story of evil and hate and of forgiveness and reconciliation, I’m reminded of something written by Brene Brown. Brene is a researcher and professor of sociology at the University of Houston who has researched, written and spoken extensively on the topic of shame and vulnerability. 

She has also spoken frequently about the three P’s - Privilege, Perspective, and Power. 

First, privilege. There is no word today that makes people more angry today than this word. Privilege. Especially, white privilege. “I worked for everything I have,” we say. “I had no privilege!”

According to Ms. Brown, if this is our understanding of privilege, then we fail to understand what it is. Privilege is something, some right we have that is unearned. It’s about unearned access or authority. We all have some kind of privilege, some kind of unearned right. What is your privilege? 

One example of my privilege, as a Christian here in Kentucky or in the entire U.S., is that I can wear a symbol of my religion (say, a cross) and not fear being called a murderer or a terrorist.  Privilege.

Or, another example. As a white woman, a mother, I have never had to have a conversation with my son about how to handle getting pulled over by the police. Both of these are examples of my privilege. 

I have unearned rights, or access and authority. Privilege has nothing to do with how hard I’ve worked. To fail to acknowledge our own privilege--especially the unearned rights we enjoy by virtue of being white. To fail to acknowledge this fails to acknowledge the pain of others who don’t experience our level of privilege. 

The second “P” is perspective. We all see the world through a lens. Whether it is as a result of our age, our gender, our race, our ability, we all view the world with a certain perspective. Add in the perspective of insight, personal history, family stories--we see the world in a particular way. And the more white, the more middle class we are, the more likely is our belief that it is our view of the world that is the only true view, the only right way.

So, we are told we should have empathy with others who don’t have the same perspective. To put down our own lens and to view the world through their lens. 

Unfortunately, this is impossible. It is impossible to set aside our own worldview.

How, then, do we take the perspective of others? First, we believe people’s stories and experiences as they are told to us. Period. So, when we hear from our African-American brothers and sisters that they are stopped by the police regularly without cause, we believe them.

Secondly, we acknowledge that how someone else views the world through their lens is just as true and real as how we view the world through ours. It’s not okay to say, “Oh, that’s a terrible story. But that’s now how I see it.” We can have an opinion. But we can’t dismiss what other people share with us as truth.

Then, there is the third “P.” That of power. We hate this word, power, don’t we, especially here in the church. There are many definitions for it, but, perhaps the best is that one given by Martin Luther King, Jr. He said that “Power is the ability to effect change.” 

To be without power, to have no ability to effect change, to be completely powerless is the most dangerous state we can ever experience. It leads to isolation. To violence. To shame. To self-harm. Think about history. When has violence occurred most throughout our world? It has happened when people felt powerless.

Somehow we have come to the belief in our country power is finite. That if I share some of it with someone else, I will lose some of my own. That is not power. That is “power over.”

“Power over” is finite. It is also ineffective. When we lead, when we parent, when we act from a position of “power over”, we, by definition, disempower people who have great ideas, great experiences, and great stories to bring to the table and to our broader shared experience. Brené Brown writes, what we are witnessing in our world today is the last resistance, the last stand of “power over.” 

Joseph had all three P’s. He was in a position of privilege, having unearned access through his appointment by the pharaoh. He had a perspective that was shaped by his own world view and experience, particularly that of having been sold into slavery by his brothers. He also had power--particularly, “power over.” The power to imprison his brothers, to exact that final revenge upon them for all of the hurt and pain they had caused. 



This past week has been so difficult, hasn’t it. As we have watched what has gone on in Charlottesville, as we have watched the hate and bigotry of racism and fascism and naziism raise it’s ugly head in our country, as we continue to witness the growing divide in our country, I don’t know about you, but for me it is so incredibly painful. And hurtful. And sinful.

Yes, sinful. The actions of white supremacists, of bigots, of racists, of neo-Nazis is sinful. Yet, it is not only they who have sinned. We have sinned. We have all sinned. We are all guilty. All of us. And, particularly, the church is guilty.

In his writings during the time of the second World War and the time of Adolph Hitler, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that the church was guilty. That the church had not professed openly and clearly enough its message of the one God. That the church had not confessed its timidity, its deviations, its dangerous concessions. That it had disavowed its duties as sentinel and comforter. That it was mute when it should have cried out, as the blood of the innocent cried out to heaven. That the church did not find the right words in the right way at the right time. That it did not resist to the death the falling away from faith. That it was guilty of the godlessness of the masses. 

So, we, as individuals and as the church, are called to confess. To confess of the privilege we have used to harm people as a result of our race. To confess of the perspective we have claimed as the only true perspective. To confess of the way we have “powered over” people instead of “powering with” people. To confess of our guilt without a single glance at all of the others who are guilty. And to call everyone--all people in our nation into a community of confession.

We must begin with ourselves. With the church. We, who have been grabbed by the power of Christ’s grace--we must acknowledge, confess, and take upon ourselves not only our personal sins, but also the falling of the world. 

Then, we must begin to change. If we are tired of the story of white supremacy (and that is what it is as much as we hate that word!), then we must begin to call it what it is. Every one of us. To say the words. To call it out. And then, to think about what we can do differently. To believe other people’s stories and to begin to work around our privilege, to work around our own perspective, and to work around power to build a world together, a world that lives into God’s declaration that all that God created is good. Every bit of it. 

To choose not to do it because it is uncomfortable or because we can’t do it perfectly is not okay. Because that is the definition of privilege. Privilege allows us to simply walk away from the hard work simply because we are not affected by it the minute we wake up. 

It must begin here and now. With each and every one of us in the church. As Bonhoeffer wrote, “The church is where Jesus makes his form real in the midst of the world. Therefore, only the church can be the place of personal and corporate rebirth and renewal.”

Joseph eventually reached a place of reconciliation with his brothers. What began as a curse became a blessing on the nations. The same can happen in the church and in the broader world. Out of usurped power can come justice. Out of rebellion order. And out of bloodshed peace. 

And this--justice, order, and peace--is what the kingdom of God looks like. And what God desires for all of humanity and all of creation.

May God so grant it!

Amen.

Preached August 20, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 45:1-15, Psalm 133, Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32; Matthew 15:10-28. 

With attributions to Dr. Brené Brown and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.