When Joseph had been taken down to Egypt, Potiphar, Pharaoh’s chief officer, the commander of the royal guard and an Egyptian, purchased him from the Ishmaelites who had brought him down there. The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man and served in his Egyptian master’s household. His master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord made everything he did successful. Potiphar thought highly of Joseph, and Joseph became his assistant; he appointed Joseph head of his household and put everything he had under Joseph’s supervision. From the time he appointed Joseph head of his household and of everything he had, the Lord blessed the Egyptian’s household because of Joseph. The Lord blessed everything he had, both in the household and in the field. So he handed over everything he had to Joseph and didn’t pay attention to anything except the food he ate.
Now Joseph was well-built and handsome.
Some time later, his master’s wife became attracted to Joseph and said, “Sleep with me.”
He refused and said to his master’s wife, “With me here, my master doesn’t pay attention to anything in his household; he’s put everything he has under my supervision. No one is greater than I am in this household, and he hasn’t denied me anything except you, since you are his wife. How could I do this terrible thing and sin against God?” Every single day she tried to convince him, but he wouldn’t agree to sleep with her or even to be with her.
One day when Joseph arrived at the house to do his work, none of the household’s men were there. She grabbed his garment, saying, “Lie down with me.” But he left his garment in her hands and ran outside. When she realized that he had left his garment in her hands and run outside, she summoned the men of her house and said to them, “Look, my husband brought us a Hebrew to ridicule us. He came to me to lie down with me, but I screamed. When he heard me raise my voice and scream, he left his garment with me and ran outside.” She kept his garment with her until Joseph’s master came home, and she told him the same thing: “The Hebrew slave whom you brought to us, to ridicule me, came to me; but when I raised my voice and screamed, he left his garment with me and ran outside.”
When Joseph’s master heard the thing that his wife told him, “This is what your servant did to me,” he was incensed. Joseph’s master took him and threw him in jail, the place where the king’s prisoners were held. While he was in jail, the Lord was with Joseph and remained loyal to him. He caused the jail’s commander to think highly of Joseph. The jail’s commander put all of the prisoners in the jail under Joseph’s supervision, and he was the one who determined everything that happened there. The jail’s commander paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s supervision, because the Lord was with him and made everything he did successful. Gen. 39:1-23 CEB
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Over these past few weeks, as we’ve heard the stories of people from the Bible in worship, we’ve reflected upon our own stories. We’ve thought about how God might be at work in our own stories, just as God was at work in the biblical narrative. We’ve seen how God was with Noah and his family when the rest of the world had turned away from God. Last week, we walked with Abraham, as God promised him and Sarah generations of heirs and a new land. Today we hear a story about their great-grandson, Joseph. One of those heirs. It is a story of challenge and joy.
Now Joseph, if you remember, was the youngest of Jacob’s sons. The family line begins with Abraham. Then Isaac, then Jacob, finally Joseph, the youngest of Jacob’s twelve sons. If you remember the entire story of Joseph, you might recall that he was a little arrogant. Because of this and because Jacob doted on him more than his brothers, they hated him. In fact, they hated him so much that they sold him into slavery.
As our story opens today, we learn that Joseph is now in Egypt. He has been sold once again by his human traffickers to be a slave in the home of Potiphar. Potiphar is the chief officer to the pharaoh - a pharaoh is like a king. He is also the commander of the royal guard, the soldiers who protect the pharaoh. So, as you can imagine, Potiphar is trusted, and a pretty important person in Egypt. Probably the second-most important person after the pharaoh.
Our story tells us that Joseph quickly becomes important in Potiphar’s house. In verse 2, we read that “The Lord was with Joseph and he become a successful man and served in his Egyptian master’s household.” In fact, Joseph was so indispensable and trusted, that Potiphar handed everything over to Joseph. Potiphar didn’t pay attention to or worry about anything except the food he ate. Except for that food, Joseph handled everything else in Potiphar’s household. In verse 3, we hear that even Potiphar noticed right away that the “Lord was with Joseph,” because everything that he touched was successful. We also hear that the Lord blessed Potiphar’s household because of Joseph.
Then, at the end of verse 6, we read this short, but intriguing, sentence. “Now Joseph was well-built and handsome.” It’s an interesting verse, isn’t it? A verse that cleverly sets up what is about to happen next. "Joseph was well-built and handsome.”
Our story continues that some time later, Potiphar’s wife (Do you notice that she is not even named in this story?)...some time later, she came to Joseph and tried to entice him. Joseph knew that this was wrong. He knew that to do what she wanted him to do would not only be disloyal to his master, her husband, Potiphar, but that it would also be disloyal--a sin--before God. And so, Joseph refused her. And he ran away. And she was left there. Holding onto his outer garment, which he had left behind in his haste to get out of the situation.
It is then that Potiphar’s wife reacted and acted in a way that I’m thinking every one of us has done. I know I have. When I’ve been rejected. Or someone has said “no” to something I wanted. So, whether out of embarrassment, or shame, or humiliation or for whatever reason, Potiphar’s wife gets angry. At Joseph. Then, out of spite, she accuses Joseph of assault. That it was Joseph who attacked her.
But, it’s not only that she gets angry at him and accuses him. Did you hear her words? What she said in verse 14? What she spoke to the men of the house who she had summoned after Joseph left? Knowing that this would eventually get back to her husband. “Look,” she said to them. “Look, my husband brought us a Hebrew to ridicule me…” A Hebrew. Not “a man.” Not “a servant.” Not even “a slave.” But, this Hebrew. Going immediately to Joseph’s ethnicity. This Hebrew. This Jew. This Muslim. This African-American. This immigrant.
Potiphar’s wife knows this a sure way to rile her husband. To make him angry at Joseph. To punish Joseph. It’s what people in power frequently do. Using ethnicity or other slurs or epithets to rile people up against other people. And often not for reasons that are true. But for their own purposes. As a wedge to divide people. To rile people up against each other. Why? Because it works.
It works with us. It worked with Potiphar. When he heard the rumors and the lie his wife told him, he got angry. At Joseph. Even though he knew Joseph so well. Even though he trusted Joseph so much. He didn’t even hesitate. To take a step back and to look at the entire situation. Perhaps, even to step into Joseph’s shoes and understand what might have happened, from Joseph’s perspective.
I think I’ve mentioned to you before how much I love both the book and the movie, “To Kill A Mockingbird.” This week, I watched a program on PBS about Harper Lee, the woman who wrote this story. In 1960. In the midst of the civil rights movement. A woman from the deep South--from Alabama--who wrote a fictionalized story about a black man falsely accused by a white woman and about the attorney who defended him. Who, through her story, bravely held up a mirror to our society for us to see, to witness what we had become.
There’s a scene in the movie that I especially like. And that has always stayed with me. It’s a scene between the attorney, Atticus Finch, and his young daughter, Scout, after her first day at school with a new teacher. Let’s watch.
“Climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” Consider something from someone else’s point of view. Hear another side of the story. Get another perspective.
How often we fail to do this! Just like Potiphar. To step back and take a second look. To look at the situation from another perspective. To challenge our own perceptions. Or to see through something or someone and find the truth. How often we are just like Potiphar!
Because, if he only had. If Potiphar had challenged his initial perception, perhaps he would have taken the time to hear the whole story. Both sides of the story. Perhaps he wouldn’t have become angry at Joseph or thrown him in jail. Wouldn’t have punished him. Perhaps, instead, he might have rewarded Joseph for his loyalty.
But, he didn’t. Yet, even after he threw Joseph into jail, our story reads, “The Lord was with Joseph and remained loyal to him.” Even when the rest of the world wasn’t.
And, we know, by the end of the story, that Joseph, once again, had become successful and trusted. Even in prison.
That’s the message for us today. That, even when we have messed everything up. When we’ve falsely accused someone. Or when we’ve been on the other side and have been falsely accused ourselves. Or even when something bad just happens to us, we have this promise. That in the midst of the dark, and the blue places of our lives, God is present with us. Just as with Joseph. And that God is working there, in those places to create new, golden possibilities. Just as God did on that Easter morning so long ago. And as God does, each week, for us in the bread and the wine--the body and the blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Presence and possibility. This is God’s promise to us. God’s promise that brings us hope. Amen.
Preached Sunday, September 23, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 18
Readings: Matt. 5:11-12; Gen. 39:1-23
Sunday, October 14, 2018
God's Promises Bring Hope: Trust and Blessing
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Who here has seen the classic musical, The Sound of Music? Anyone remember how old they were when they saw it? I was seven years old. My great aunt Lottie took me to see it. She loved musicals and wanted to share her love of them with me.
Do you remember the opening scene? Well, in case you don’t or if you’ve never seen it, I have a treat today for you. Let's watch.
Now, why do you think I would play this opening scene to introduce today’s story? Anyone have an idea?
Our story today about Abram is a turning point in the book of Genesis. Before this chapter, Chapter 9, we have all those familiar stories that make up what scholars call the “primeval history”--Creation, The Fall, Cain and Abel, and Noah and the Flood, which we heard last week. But, beginning this week, the focus narrows. Instead of stories about cosmic beginnings, we focus in on one couple, Abram and Sarai. So, just like the opening scene in The Sound of Music, where we begin way up high and have a wide-angled view of the Austrian Alps, we see this tiny figure on top of one of the mountains, and then the camera pulls us in and zooms into this person who then fills the entire frame. With today’s story, we now have zoomed in on a closeup of Abram. And of Sarai, his wife.
As we began worship today, we talked about the incredible trust in God that Abram must have had. I invited you to think about people in your lives that you trust, what it might feel like if you had no one you could trust, and, then, to wonder if someone asked you to pick up and move, whether you would. Like Abram.
I wonder how Abram felt. Perhaps a little scared? I wonder if he had hopes, too? One of the things we will hear today is how God’s promises bring hope to Abram.
Do you have hopes in your life? Perhaps they’re hopes for the future. Or for your family. Or for something else. What are your hopes?
Today, as we hear the story, we’re going to journey right along with Abram. We begin in Genesis, chapter 12.
The Lord said to Abram, “Leave your land, your family, and your father’s household for the land that I will show you. 2 I will make of you a great nation and will bless you. I will make your name respected, and you will be a blessing.
3 I will bless those who bless you,
those who curse you I will curse;
all the families of the earth
will be blessed because of you.”
4 Abram left just as the Lord told him, and Lot went with him. Now Abram was 75 years old when he left Haran.
Do you, first of all, notice that there doesn’t seem to be anything special about Abram? In last week’s story about Noah, we read that he was a righteous man, blameless in his generation. And that “Noah walked with God.” But, there’s nothing like this in the first verses of our story today about Abram.
Hmmm...something for us to think about.
Back to our story, we’re on this journey today with Abram. What do you do when you’re preparing to go on a journey? You plan your trip. Pack your bags. What are some of the things that you pack when you go on a journey? Yes, you might take clothing, toiletries, shoes, maybe a book to read along the way. All of these are things that we might pack in our suitcase as we prepare to go on our journey.
But what if the journey you were taking meant you were leaving everything behind that was familiar to you and never returning? We heard in the opening verse that God told Abram to leave behind his land, his family, and his father’s household, which also meant leaving behind his entire inheritance. Everything and everyone Abram knew--God asked him to leave it all behind.
What might that feel like? Leaving your entire, familiar life behind? Oh, and do you remember hearing that Abram was 75 years old when God called him? Any of you 75-year-olds out there ready to leave everything behind and follow God’s call? Just like Abraham?
We continue our reading at verse 5. Abram took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all of their possessions, and those who became members of their household in Haran; and they set out for the land of Canaan.
Now Abram had already moved once, from Ur to Haran. He had traveled there with his father Terah and his nephew, Lot, many years before. They had originally planned to travel all the way to Canaan. But, when they arrived in Haran, they decided to settle there. By the time of our story today, they’ve already been living in Haran for many, many years. But, Haran is where the journey with Abraham begins today.
Pretend that you are taking your family members and others sitting around you. We’ll leave Haran and head south. Okay, this is Canaan, land of milk and honey. Oh, but, we’re not staying here!
Verse 6. When they arrived in Canaan, Abram traveled through the land as far as the sacred place at Shechem, at the oak of Moreh. The Canaanites lived in the land at that time. Abraham passed through the land of Canaan and kept going to Shechem, to the oak at Moreh.
It is here, at the Oak of Moreh, that God appears to Abraham! Verse 7. The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “I give this land to your descendants,” so Abram built an altar there to the Lord who appeared to him.
What do you think it would be like to have God appear to you? What would God look like? What would God sound like? What else might be happening if God appeared? Would the earth itself react, say, through the weather? Or what about the animals? How would they react?
It was after God appeared that God then said to Abraham, “I give this land to your descendants.” In response, Abraham built an altar to God here in this place, knowing that the land would belong to his descendants. Now Abram’s altar was probably made of big rocks.
Next Abraham and his family moved on to the hill country east of Bethel. Let’s read verse eight and see what happened here. Verse 8. From there he traveled toward the mountains east of Bethel, and pitched his tent with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. There he built an altar to the Lord and worshipped in the Lord’s name.
Abraham pitched his tent, so let’s plan to stay for awhile, too. In this place, then, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east, Abraham built another altar! And, then, after leaving everything familiar behind and moving to this new and unfamiliar place, Abraham worshipped God.
And our story ends with verse 9: Then Abram set out toward the arid southern plain, making and breaking camp as he went.
That was quite the journey. Let’s “unpack” it a little bit.
In our story last week, we heard that this God of Israel was not like all of the other gods. Rather than destroying the entire world, this God chose to preserve life. But God is now on the hook. God needs to show that he truly isn’t like all the other gods.
And so, God picks a man. Abram. No one special. Just someone who is pretty ordinary. Like you and I. God calls this man to pickup his family and move across an entire country. Leaving everything behind. Knowing that he will probably never see his father or the rest of his family ever again.
It takes some serious trust, doesn’t? For Abraham to do exactly what God calls him to do? I wonder if you and I would be like Abram. Trusting. Never questioning.
I belong to a few closed clergy groups on Facebook. A few days ago a pastor in San Antonio posted in the group. “Help!” she posted. “I’m trying to make a point in my sermon! Can you help me think of people who felt they weren’t worthy. Or aren’t capable of God’s call for them?” Within 30 minutes, there were 40 posts. The first several listed people in Scripture who had resisted God’s call: Amos, David, Mary, Paul, Samuel, Gideon, Isaiah, Jonah, Jacob, Jeremiah…. And, then, someone asked the question, “Did YOU immediately answer God’s call?” What followed then was post after post from pastors saying, “No, I didn’t.”
How is your journey like Abraham’s? How are his travels similar to the path you have been on with God so far? Maybe they’re not the same. Maybe you’re still resisting. If you are, you’re not alone. But, God selects us in grace, as ordinary as we might be. As resistant as we might be. And God calls us onto a journey. In our baptism, God called and continues to call us. Onto a journey. A journey of trust. A journey of blessing.
Yes, blessing. Because we know this story of Abram. God made a promise with Abram and his barren wife, Sarai. A three-fold promise. Of descendants. Of land. And of blessing. That they would be blessed so that they might be a blessing to others. It was this promise--this covenant--from God that gave them hope.
Trust and blessing. That’s the story of God’s call to Abram and Sarai. Where is God calling you? No matter where, God promises to be with us. It is in those promises, fulfilled in Christ, where we find our hope.
Let us pray: God, thank you for giving each of us a journey and for guiding us on our way. Thank you for blessing us to be a blessing to others. Amen.
Preached Sunday, September 16, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 17
Readings: Matt. 28:19-20; Gen. 12:1-9
Who here has seen the classic musical, The Sound of Music? Anyone remember how old they were when they saw it? I was seven years old. My great aunt Lottie took me to see it. She loved musicals and wanted to share her love of them with me.
Do you remember the opening scene? Well, in case you don’t or if you’ve never seen it, I have a treat today for you. Let's watch.
Now, why do you think I would play this opening scene to introduce today’s story? Anyone have an idea?
Our story today about Abram is a turning point in the book of Genesis. Before this chapter, Chapter 9, we have all those familiar stories that make up what scholars call the “primeval history”--Creation, The Fall, Cain and Abel, and Noah and the Flood, which we heard last week. But, beginning this week, the focus narrows. Instead of stories about cosmic beginnings, we focus in on one couple, Abram and Sarai. So, just like the opening scene in The Sound of Music, where we begin way up high and have a wide-angled view of the Austrian Alps, we see this tiny figure on top of one of the mountains, and then the camera pulls us in and zooms into this person who then fills the entire frame. With today’s story, we now have zoomed in on a closeup of Abram. And of Sarai, his wife.
As we began worship today, we talked about the incredible trust in God that Abram must have had. I invited you to think about people in your lives that you trust, what it might feel like if you had no one you could trust, and, then, to wonder if someone asked you to pick up and move, whether you would. Like Abram.
I wonder how Abram felt. Perhaps a little scared? I wonder if he had hopes, too? One of the things we will hear today is how God’s promises bring hope to Abram.
Do you have hopes in your life? Perhaps they’re hopes for the future. Or for your family. Or for something else. What are your hopes?
Today, as we hear the story, we’re going to journey right along with Abram. We begin in Genesis, chapter 12.
The Lord said to Abram, “Leave your land, your family, and your father’s household for the land that I will show you. 2 I will make of you a great nation and will bless you. I will make your name respected, and you will be a blessing.
3 I will bless those who bless you,
those who curse you I will curse;
all the families of the earth
will be blessed because of you.”
4 Abram left just as the Lord told him, and Lot went with him. Now Abram was 75 years old when he left Haran.
Do you, first of all, notice that there doesn’t seem to be anything special about Abram? In last week’s story about Noah, we read that he was a righteous man, blameless in his generation. And that “Noah walked with God.” But, there’s nothing like this in the first verses of our story today about Abram.
Hmmm...something for us to think about.
Back to our story, we’re on this journey today with Abram. What do you do when you’re preparing to go on a journey? You plan your trip. Pack your bags. What are some of the things that you pack when you go on a journey? Yes, you might take clothing, toiletries, shoes, maybe a book to read along the way. All of these are things that we might pack in our suitcase as we prepare to go on our journey.
But what if the journey you were taking meant you were leaving everything behind that was familiar to you and never returning? We heard in the opening verse that God told Abram to leave behind his land, his family, and his father’s household, which also meant leaving behind his entire inheritance. Everything and everyone Abram knew--God asked him to leave it all behind.
What might that feel like? Leaving your entire, familiar life behind? Oh, and do you remember hearing that Abram was 75 years old when God called him? Any of you 75-year-olds out there ready to leave everything behind and follow God’s call? Just like Abraham?
We continue our reading at verse 5. Abram took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all of their possessions, and those who became members of their household in Haran; and they set out for the land of Canaan.
Now Abram had already moved once, from Ur to Haran. He had traveled there with his father Terah and his nephew, Lot, many years before. They had originally planned to travel all the way to Canaan. But, when they arrived in Haran, they decided to settle there. By the time of our story today, they’ve already been living in Haran for many, many years. But, Haran is where the journey with Abraham begins today.
Pretend that you are taking your family members and others sitting around you. We’ll leave Haran and head south. Okay, this is Canaan, land of milk and honey. Oh, but, we’re not staying here!
Verse 6. When they arrived in Canaan, Abram traveled through the land as far as the sacred place at Shechem, at the oak of Moreh. The Canaanites lived in the land at that time. Abraham passed through the land of Canaan and kept going to Shechem, to the oak at Moreh.
It is here, at the Oak of Moreh, that God appears to Abraham! Verse 7. The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “I give this land to your descendants,” so Abram built an altar there to the Lord who appeared to him.
What do you think it would be like to have God appear to you? What would God look like? What would God sound like? What else might be happening if God appeared? Would the earth itself react, say, through the weather? Or what about the animals? How would they react?
It was after God appeared that God then said to Abraham, “I give this land to your descendants.” In response, Abraham built an altar to God here in this place, knowing that the land would belong to his descendants. Now Abram’s altar was probably made of big rocks.
Next Abraham and his family moved on to the hill country east of Bethel. Let’s read verse eight and see what happened here. Verse 8. From there he traveled toward the mountains east of Bethel, and pitched his tent with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. There he built an altar to the Lord and worshipped in the Lord’s name.
Abraham pitched his tent, so let’s plan to stay for awhile, too. In this place, then, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east, Abraham built another altar! And, then, after leaving everything familiar behind and moving to this new and unfamiliar place, Abraham worshipped God.
And our story ends with verse 9: Then Abram set out toward the arid southern plain, making and breaking camp as he went.
That was quite the journey. Let’s “unpack” it a little bit.
In our story last week, we heard that this God of Israel was not like all of the other gods. Rather than destroying the entire world, this God chose to preserve life. But God is now on the hook. God needs to show that he truly isn’t like all the other gods.
And so, God picks a man. Abram. No one special. Just someone who is pretty ordinary. Like you and I. God calls this man to pickup his family and move across an entire country. Leaving everything behind. Knowing that he will probably never see his father or the rest of his family ever again.
It takes some serious trust, doesn’t? For Abraham to do exactly what God calls him to do? I wonder if you and I would be like Abram. Trusting. Never questioning.
I belong to a few closed clergy groups on Facebook. A few days ago a pastor in San Antonio posted in the group. “Help!” she posted. “I’m trying to make a point in my sermon! Can you help me think of people who felt they weren’t worthy. Or aren’t capable of God’s call for them?” Within 30 minutes, there were 40 posts. The first several listed people in Scripture who had resisted God’s call: Amos, David, Mary, Paul, Samuel, Gideon, Isaiah, Jonah, Jacob, Jeremiah…. And, then, someone asked the question, “Did YOU immediately answer God’s call?” What followed then was post after post from pastors saying, “No, I didn’t.”
How is your journey like Abraham’s? How are his travels similar to the path you have been on with God so far? Maybe they’re not the same. Maybe you’re still resisting. If you are, you’re not alone. But, God selects us in grace, as ordinary as we might be. As resistant as we might be. And God calls us onto a journey. In our baptism, God called and continues to call us. Onto a journey. A journey of trust. A journey of blessing.
Yes, blessing. Because we know this story of Abram. God made a promise with Abram and his barren wife, Sarai. A three-fold promise. Of descendants. Of land. And of blessing. That they would be blessed so that they might be a blessing to others. It was this promise--this covenant--from God that gave them hope.
Trust and blessing. That’s the story of God’s call to Abram and Sarai. Where is God calling you? No matter where, God promises to be with us. It is in those promises, fulfilled in Christ, where we find our hope.
Let us pray: God, thank you for giving each of us a journey and for guiding us on our way. Thank you for blessing us to be a blessing to others. Amen.
Preached Sunday, September 16, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 17
Readings: Matt. 28:19-20; Gen. 12:1-9
Sunday, September 9, 2018
God's Promises Bring Hope: Our Promise-Keeper
Hasn’t this past week felt a little unsettling? With everything in the news, with concern about what’s happening in Washington, or with the hurricane in the Gulf coast area, doesn’t it sometimes seem like the world is a really scary and bad place?
Well, that’s how the story of Noah begins--when the world was a scary and bad place, just as for us today. And, yet, the story ends when God places a rainbow in the clouds as a symbol of promise and as a sign of the covenant between God and all living creatures.
This story can feel difficult for hear when we are living in a world like today--where extreme events seem to be a regular occurance. We might find ourselves asking in these times--in natural disasters or disasters that are human made--we might ask, “Where is God in this event?”
Who of you remembers Mister Rogers? Mister Rogers used to share that, in times of crisis, his grandmother and his parents would tell him to “look for the helpers.” That, if you looked on the edges of the event, you could often see helpers there, quietly at work, caring for others and for God’s creation. You see, the “helpers” are the ones who take part in God’s covenant promise to care for creation. Let’s watch Mister Rogers!
Think about those people who are the "helpers" in difficult situations. Make a list of how you can be a helper for someone who is scared, how you might be able to help care for God's creation.
Prayer: God, sometimes the world can be a scary place. But we know that you are always with us. In the Bible we read over and over about your promise to save us. We remember your promise every time we see a rainbow. Thank you for being stronger than the scary things of this world. We pray, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The story of Noah and the ark is a well-known story. Some of us have likely heard it many times in our lives. As we hear it today, I want you to think about these questions: What bothers you about this text? What does this text tell you about God? What does this story have to do with the way you live your life?
The Lord saw that humanity had become thoroughly evil on the earth and that every idea their minds thought up was always completely evil. The Lord regretted making human beings on the earth, and he was heartbroken. So the Lord said, “I will wipe off of the land the human race that I’ve created: from human beings to livestock to the crawling things to the birds in the skies, because I regret I ever made them.” But as for Noah, the Lord approved of him.
These are Noah’s descendants. In his generation, Noah was a moral and exemplary man; he walked with God. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. In God’s sight, the earth had become corrupt and was filled with violence. God saw that the earth was corrupt, because all creatures behaved corruptly on the earth.
God said to Noah, “The end has come for all creatures, since they have filled the earth with violence. I am now about to destroy them along with the earth, so make a wooden ark. Make the ark with nesting places and cover it inside and out with tar. This is how you should make it: four hundred fifty feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Make a roof for the ark and complete it one foot from the top. Put a door in its side. In the hold below, make the second and third decks.
“I am now bringing the floodwaters over the earth to destroy everything under the sky that breathes. Everything on earth is about to take its last breath. But I will set up my covenant with you. You will go into the ark together with your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives. From all living things—from all creatures—you are to bring a pair, male and female, into the ark with you to keep them alive. From each kind of bird, from each kind of livestock, and from each kind of everything that crawls on the ground—a pair from each will go in with you to stay alive. Take some from every kind of food and stow it as food for you and for the animals.”
Noah did everything exactly as God commanded him.
After forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made. He sent out a raven, and it flew back and forth until the waters over the entire earth had dried up. Then he sent out a dove to see if the waters on all of the fertile land had subsided, but the dove found no place to set its foot. It returned to him in the ark since waters still covered the entire earth. Noah stretched out his hand, took it, and brought it back into the ark. He waited seven more days and sent the dove out from the ark again. The dove came back to him in the evening, grasping a torn olive leaf in its beak. Then Noah knew that the waters were subsiding from the earth. He waited seven more days and sent out the dove, but it didn’t come back to him again.
God said to Noah and to his sons with him, “I am now setting up my covenant with you, with your descendants, and with every living being with you—with the birds, with the large animals, and with all the animals of the earth, leaving the ark with you. I will set up my covenant with you so that never again will all life be cut off by floodwaters. There will never again be a flood to destroy the earth.”
God said, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I am drawing up between me and you and every living thing with you, on behalf of every future generation. I have placed my bow in the clouds; it will be the symbol of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow appears in the clouds, I will remember the covenant between me and you and every living being among all the creatures. Floodwaters will never again destroy all creatures. The bow will be in the clouds, and upon seeing it I will remember the enduring covenant between God and every living being of all the earth’s creatures.” God said to Noah, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I have set up between me and all creatures on earth.” Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17 (CEB)
It’s important for us to understand that, in the ancient world, people told stories about floods. The Sumerians, the Africans, the Babylonians--all of these people told stories about floods. In particular, they told stories about water and its power to destroy towns and cities, and even whole civilizations. There were also stories--in these times--of people who built boats to survive these floods.
Floods were often believed to be divine judgment by angry gods. Gods who were angry with people for messing everything up. So, through floods, the angry gods “cleared the deck” to start all over again.
So, it’s not really unusual that, when we come to Genesis 6, we hear a flood story. This story--with Noah, and his ark, and his family and the animals--is like all the other flood stories because, of course, this god is like the other gods. Angry. Fed up with an evil humanity. Evil in every way--in thoughts and in actions.
So, this god--like all those others--decides once again to unleash divine wrath on the world through a flood.
But, then, something strange happens with this story. It ends with a promise from this god that this will never happen again. What? God literally says to Noah, “I will place my ‘bow’ in the clouds as a sign of this promise.” A bow--like an archer’s bow. God puts up God’s weapon and says, “No more!” This God will be different from the other gods. This God will commit to living with people in a new way--a way in which life is not destroyed, but is preserved and respected.
So, why was this story told? Why did it matter? And why did it endure throughout the ages?
Well, imagine what it was like to live in this time--no weather reports, no Google earth images, no airplanes or weather satellites. You’d likely never have travelled more than a few miles from where you were born. Then, imagine what a massive flood must have felt like--coming at you out of nowhere. Wiping out your house and your crops and your animals and your family members. Gone.
What would that do to your psyche? How would you respond to such an event?
You would do exactly what we do when we suffer. We look for reasons. For causes. To understand why this is happening to me. To us. So, in the ancient world, it was generally believed that the causes of these floods were gods who were angry. That’s how people made sense in stories of the world and of floods.
But, this tale, in Genesis was different. Even though it began with the same old story--of divine judgment and a flood--there’s a huge twist at the end. Everybody doesn’t die, as in the other stories. A family is spared. And, then, a promise is made to them--a promise with a sign. The sign of the rainbow.
Because this flood story is the story of a God who wants to relate to us. Who grieves deeply when we push God away from us. Because God is a God who wants to save. A God who wants to be in covenant with us.
This flood story is a story about a new view of God. Not a God who wants to destroy humanity, but a God who wants to be in relationship with us. And who promises to stay with us, even in the midst of our messy and chaotic world.
God sent a rainbow as a sign that God would never again destroy the earth. And, then, God set out to write a new story--a story about love and salvation. About God keeping God’s promises. Our God is a promise-keeper. And, because we know this, we can trust God’s word.
Sometimes, though, isn’t it hard to trust that promise? We need to be honest about that with ourselves and with others, too.
When is it hard for you to trust the promises of God? Perhaps it's in times of challenge or loneliness? Or maybe in times of fear and frustration.
Think about that. Then, remember that, regardless of our fears, God sets the rainbow in the sky as a promise that God will never forsake us. That God will always be with us. This is God’s promise. And God is our promise-keeper. Amen.
Preached Sunday, September 9, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 16
Reading: Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17
*The concept of the flood story utilized is done so with much gratitude to that given by Rob Bell in his book, What Is the Bible? How an Ancient Library of Poems, Letters, and Stories Can Transform the Way You Think and Feel About Everything.
*The concept of the flood story utilized is done so with much gratitude to that given by Rob Bell in his book, What Is the Bible? How an Ancient Library of Poems, Letters, and Stories Can Transform the Way You Think and Feel About Everything.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Treasure Hunting: Our Hearts and Grief
As Jesus continued down the road, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to obtain eternal life?”
Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”
“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”
Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.
Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”
They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”
Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”
Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.” Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about the experience we had here last Sunday morning. In case you missed it, would any of you like to share what happened? That’s right. We had a Spanish-speaking family visit us last Sunday—a husband and his wife and their two children, a boy and a little girl. They were a lovely family. As we communicated with them, difficult as that was, we learned that they were traveling from the East Coast to Texas. That they had gone to the East Coast for work, that this hadn’t worked out, and that they were returning to Texas, which is where they had originally travelled from. They were seeking help from us—help to ensure they had money for gas and, perhaps, a place to stop to rest. This was their story.
What if, though...what if the story they told was untrue? What if they were telling us a lie?
I returned late last night from Seattle. I was there for a conference of congregational developers and re-developers. These are pastors who are called to a place to either start new churches or to help lead with the revitalization of existing congregations. While I was there, I heard a lot of stories about some of these existing congregations around the ELCA—congregations stuck in the past or isolated within their church’s walls. Congregations who refused to look outward, to go out into the neighborhood. Unwilling to look for where the Holy Spirit might already be at work in their community. Congregations unwilling to be open-hearted.
As I sat there and listened to these difficult stories, all I could do was to reflect upon our experience here last Sunday. I felt this incredible sense of joy. More like pride, really, at how warmly you, the members of this congregation, welcomed this family. In fact, at times I felt overwhelmed by your response—at how you gave of yourselves and your own wealth so abundantly—with even a couple of you going to get cash to give. Or how you helped them pack up food from our pantry so generously and graciously. But, mostly, how you opened your hearts so openly. Without worry, which was the very thing we talked about last week.
This was the first thing that remained with me from last week and, to be quite honest with you, this is what matters most--that you responded with such generosity and open-heartedness, trusting that God was calling you at that very moment to a deep place of generosity.
There was a second thing that stuck with me...something that left me wondering a little bit. As we packed them into their van, knowing that they had so little and that it was very likely that everything they owned was in this van, I began to wonder about whether I could survive with so little. Whether I could survive without all of my possessions. Without my stuff.
It’s that question of possessions that is central to our story this morning. Here we have a man—a rich man—who approaches Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. What must I do to inherit eternal life?
Do you notice Jesus’ response? He recalls for the man several of the Ten Commandments—commandments that, if you recall from earlier this summer, come from what is often called the “second table” of commandments. The “first table” teaches us how we are to live in relationship to God. The second table—those Jesus reminds him of here—are the ones that teach us how we are to live in relationship with each other. Jesus tells him that he must keep these commandments.
“I’ve kept all of them—every one of them!” The man replies. Now, my initial thought is “What arrogance this man has!” Yet, if we read the text carefully, one notices that it seems that he is completely sincere. The opening verse says he came to Jesus and kneeled down before him. It would appear that he truly wanted to know. Jesus recognizes this sincerity. Our text reads that Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. Loved him.
And, then, Jesus told him to sell everything—all that he had. All of his riches, his great wealth. And to give the money to the poor.
We must be careful here about what this text says to us. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that being rich is sinful. Or that having wealth will keep us from being in God’s kingdom. After all, doesn’t Jesus go on just a few verses later that it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom? But, that’s not the message of this story. When Jesus asks him to dispose of all of his stuff, then man turns and walks away, grieving. Grieving, our story says, because he had many possessions.
You see, Jesus knew that the big roadblock to his man being in relationship with both God and with his neighbor was his stuff. It was the emotional investment he had in his stuff—an emotional attachment so deep that, to even consider giving it all away, left him grieving.
We live in a consumeristic culture. A culture that teaches us that there is a value in things, in our possessions. That we should strive for these things. Our status is so often connected to how much stuff we have. And we, very easily, can become emotionally attached to our stuff. If you’ve ever had to take a cell phone or a Game Boy or some other electronic device away from a teenager or a child, and then witnessed the accompanying grief, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
We, adults, aren’t much better. We all wrestle with this—with the emotional attachment we have to our stuff and the investment we have in wealth and getting more and more of it. At the core of this is grief. Just like the rich man, who grieved over the idea of giving up all his wealth and turning his entire life over to God, we also grieve over the thought that we have to give it all up to be in relationship with God.
I wonder, though, if this is really the message here. Think about it. God doesn’t hate stuff. In fact, matter matters to God. Because God is all about creating stuff. About making new things out of the old. About making more stuff.
I wonder if the invitation for us is to think differently. Instead of feeling guilty and ashamed about our stuff, what if we were to rethink our relationship to it and wonder how, through our connection to things, we might better connect to our neighbors. To wonder how we might pick something up and consider how we might use it for our neighbor. To clean out that closet and give our clothes to a neighbor or to Goodwill for someone else to use—someone who, perhaps, doesn’t have the abundance we do.
Or, perhaps, it’s an invitation to pick something up and reflect upon what the cost was to get it to our houses. About the wages paid to the person who made it. About the cost to the environment to create it or to dispose of it. And then to consider an alternative that isn’t as costly to our created world.
Or maybe it’s even a way for us to deepen our relationship with others by sharing the richness of the emotional attachment we might have to something—the expensive grand piano that has been passed down in your family and the memories we have of those who played it. Or the Bible that, in my family, for example, was given to me by my grandmother who painstakingly tracked all of the births, marriages, and deaths in our family over the past several generations.
Perhaps, in his challenge to the rich man, Jesus isn’t trying to guilt or shame him, or us, but to inspire generosity and to give us a sense of freedom. To lift the weight off of us from all our stuff and to help us see that true life doesn’t come from that stuff, but from our relationships. Our relationships with others. And, particularly, our relationship with God.
Because God is the agent of our saving. We aren’t. And our stuff certainly isn’t. God is. Giver of the greatest gift to us—the gift of life in Jesus. Not a life of grief over losing our possessions. But a life of joy in gaining God’s kingdom. And a life that is reoriented away from our possessions to one of free and generous stewardship, serving God. Where our money and wealth are agents of that service.
We give thanks for God’s gifts. May God give us such clean hearts and right spirits in which to use them. Amen.
Preached August 26, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14
Readings: Mark 10:17-31 (Psalm 51:10-12)
Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”
“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”
Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.
Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”
They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”
Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”
Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.” Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about the experience we had here last Sunday morning. In case you missed it, would any of you like to share what happened? That’s right. We had a Spanish-speaking family visit us last Sunday—a husband and his wife and their two children, a boy and a little girl. They were a lovely family. As we communicated with them, difficult as that was, we learned that they were traveling from the East Coast to Texas. That they had gone to the East Coast for work, that this hadn’t worked out, and that they were returning to Texas, which is where they had originally travelled from. They were seeking help from us—help to ensure they had money for gas and, perhaps, a place to stop to rest. This was their story.
What if, though...what if the story they told was untrue? What if they were telling us a lie?
I returned late last night from Seattle. I was there for a conference of congregational developers and re-developers. These are pastors who are called to a place to either start new churches or to help lead with the revitalization of existing congregations. While I was there, I heard a lot of stories about some of these existing congregations around the ELCA—congregations stuck in the past or isolated within their church’s walls. Congregations who refused to look outward, to go out into the neighborhood. Unwilling to look for where the Holy Spirit might already be at work in their community. Congregations unwilling to be open-hearted.
As I sat there and listened to these difficult stories, all I could do was to reflect upon our experience here last Sunday. I felt this incredible sense of joy. More like pride, really, at how warmly you, the members of this congregation, welcomed this family. In fact, at times I felt overwhelmed by your response—at how you gave of yourselves and your own wealth so abundantly—with even a couple of you going to get cash to give. Or how you helped them pack up food from our pantry so generously and graciously. But, mostly, how you opened your hearts so openly. Without worry, which was the very thing we talked about last week.
This was the first thing that remained with me from last week and, to be quite honest with you, this is what matters most--that you responded with such generosity and open-heartedness, trusting that God was calling you at that very moment to a deep place of generosity.
There was a second thing that stuck with me...something that left me wondering a little bit. As we packed them into their van, knowing that they had so little and that it was very likely that everything they owned was in this van, I began to wonder about whether I could survive with so little. Whether I could survive without all of my possessions. Without my stuff.
It’s that question of possessions that is central to our story this morning. Here we have a man—a rich man—who approaches Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. What must I do to inherit eternal life?
Do you notice Jesus’ response? He recalls for the man several of the Ten Commandments—commandments that, if you recall from earlier this summer, come from what is often called the “second table” of commandments. The “first table” teaches us how we are to live in relationship to God. The second table—those Jesus reminds him of here—are the ones that teach us how we are to live in relationship with each other. Jesus tells him that he must keep these commandments.
“I’ve kept all of them—every one of them!” The man replies. Now, my initial thought is “What arrogance this man has!” Yet, if we read the text carefully, one notices that it seems that he is completely sincere. The opening verse says he came to Jesus and kneeled down before him. It would appear that he truly wanted to know. Jesus recognizes this sincerity. Our text reads that Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. Loved him.
And, then, Jesus told him to sell everything—all that he had. All of his riches, his great wealth. And to give the money to the poor.
We must be careful here about what this text says to us. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that being rich is sinful. Or that having wealth will keep us from being in God’s kingdom. After all, doesn’t Jesus go on just a few verses later that it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom? But, that’s not the message of this story. When Jesus asks him to dispose of all of his stuff, then man turns and walks away, grieving. Grieving, our story says, because he had many possessions.
You see, Jesus knew that the big roadblock to his man being in relationship with both God and with his neighbor was his stuff. It was the emotional investment he had in his stuff—an emotional attachment so deep that, to even consider giving it all away, left him grieving.
We live in a consumeristic culture. A culture that teaches us that there is a value in things, in our possessions. That we should strive for these things. Our status is so often connected to how much stuff we have. And we, very easily, can become emotionally attached to our stuff. If you’ve ever had to take a cell phone or a Game Boy or some other electronic device away from a teenager or a child, and then witnessed the accompanying grief, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
We, adults, aren’t much better. We all wrestle with this—with the emotional attachment we have to our stuff and the investment we have in wealth and getting more and more of it. At the core of this is grief. Just like the rich man, who grieved over the idea of giving up all his wealth and turning his entire life over to God, we also grieve over the thought that we have to give it all up to be in relationship with God.
I wonder, though, if this is really the message here. Think about it. God doesn’t hate stuff. In fact, matter matters to God. Because God is all about creating stuff. About making new things out of the old. About making more stuff.
I wonder if the invitation for us is to think differently. Instead of feeling guilty and ashamed about our stuff, what if we were to rethink our relationship to it and wonder how, through our connection to things, we might better connect to our neighbors. To wonder how we might pick something up and consider how we might use it for our neighbor. To clean out that closet and give our clothes to a neighbor or to Goodwill for someone else to use—someone who, perhaps, doesn’t have the abundance we do.
Or, perhaps, it’s an invitation to pick something up and reflect upon what the cost was to get it to our houses. About the wages paid to the person who made it. About the cost to the environment to create it or to dispose of it. And then to consider an alternative that isn’t as costly to our created world.
Or maybe it’s even a way for us to deepen our relationship with others by sharing the richness of the emotional attachment we might have to something—the expensive grand piano that has been passed down in your family and the memories we have of those who played it. Or the Bible that, in my family, for example, was given to me by my grandmother who painstakingly tracked all of the births, marriages, and deaths in our family over the past several generations.
Perhaps, in his challenge to the rich man, Jesus isn’t trying to guilt or shame him, or us, but to inspire generosity and to give us a sense of freedom. To lift the weight off of us from all our stuff and to help us see that true life doesn’t come from that stuff, but from our relationships. Our relationships with others. And, particularly, our relationship with God.
Because God is the agent of our saving. We aren’t. And our stuff certainly isn’t. God is. Giver of the greatest gift to us—the gift of life in Jesus. Not a life of grief over losing our possessions. But a life of joy in gaining God’s kingdom. And a life that is reoriented away from our possessions to one of free and generous stewardship, serving God. Where our money and wealth are agents of that service.
We give thanks for God’s gifts. May God give us such clean hearts and right spirits in which to use them. Amen.
Preached August 26, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14
Readings: Mark 10:17-31 (Psalm 51:10-12)
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Treasure Hunting: Our Hearts and Worry
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
“The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!
“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.Grace and peace to you from God, our abundant Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. Matt. 6:19-34 (NRSV)
Money. That is central to what we are talking about for the next three weeks. Money. Does this subject make you as uncomfortable as it makes me?
Our focus during this time will center around this overall theme of “treasure in heaven.” And, then, each week, we will look at a different text from each of the three synoptic gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke. We’ll be looking at three different contexts, three different emphases, and then, in particular, three different challenges. Three different things that challenge us in our relationship with God and with money and, especially that challenge our generosity. These three things are worry, grief, and fear.
Does anyone here have a dollar bill on them? Or it can be a bill of any denomination? (In today’s cashless world, these is getting harder and harder to find, isn’t it?) When you look at the bill, what do you see? Amount of bill, former leader, words “In God We Trust.”
In God We Trust. (Just a little bit of trivia here, but did you know that the requirement to use these words on every denomination of American currency was passed in 1956, not really that long ago.) Isn’t it a little ironic that, on the very thing that causes so much tension and conflict in our lives, in our relationships, in our work, and, yes, right here in our church--on the actual money we use day in and day out are these words: In God we trust. Because it is money and the power of money that is one of the things that we struggle with the most in our relationship with God.
We worry about money constantly, don’t we? What worries you most about your money? We worry about how much we have. Or don’t have. We worry about the power it has in our lives. We worry about how much time we spend earning it. As we get older, we even worry about what we will do with it after we die. Money or our worry over money is one of the highest causes of anxiety and conflict in our relationships.
We worry constantly about money. It’s why Jesus talk about money ALL THE TIME.
I really dislike preaching about money. Maybe it would be different if I had it all figured out. But, I don’t. And I worry about it. I come from a long line of worry-ers, in fact. And I have graciously passed my practice of worrying onto my son. It is just easy to worry over it, isn’t. This constant question of how much I should save. Or how much, especially for us in the church, I should give away.
And, then, as though the answer was easy, Jesus simply says, “Don’t worry!” Yeah, right!
And, yet, it really comes down to whether or not we believe the words we find on our own currency--the words, ”In God We Trust.” Because to trust in God is to believe that there is enough in our world. That God cares abundantly for our world and has provided enough for each one of us. The word we often uses to talk about this is “providence,” God’s providence. To believe in God’s providence is to believe, no matter what, God will care for and protect us. That God will provide for us what we need. (Notice, I said need. Not want.) It’s what we pray for each time we say the Lord’s Prayer. “Give us this day our daily bread.” Notice that the focus in this prayer given to us by Jesus is on today. Not tomorrow, but today. Give us this day our daily bread.
Haven’t you experienced this? Haven’t you experienced God’s providence in your own life? I know I have. In my late 20’s, after my husband and I separated, I had physical custody of my son. It was expensive to pay for rent and utilities for us and for food and clothing for us all by myself. There were many times that my paycheck ran out days before my next payday and I had no idea where our next meal might come from. Where my next tank of gas might come from. Or how I might keep the lights on over our heads. And, yet, there was never a time that we didn’t have enough to survive. That somehow, something or someone would show up in our lives at just the right time with just what we needed. Coincidence? Maybe. But it happened so much then and throughout my life that it is way beyond coincidence. That I can attribute it only to God and God’s providence. That it is a God-thing.
God cares abundantly for our world. God has provided enough for everyone. What then, we might ask, about those who don’t have enough in their lives? About the poor? Or the disadvantaged? After all, we see them all the time here at Grace & Glory. Our food pantry clients. Others who come to us asking for money or for a tank of gas. If God provides enough for everyone, then, why are their people like this in our world.
The simple answer? Sin. Because sin tells us that there isn’t enough in our world. That there isn’t enough for everyone. Sin leads us to worry, to live in anxiety. Sin leads us to a mindset of scarcity. That we need to hold onto our stuff. Sin leads to hoarding. Sin separates us from right relationship with God.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…” Jesus says in our text today. “...[B]ut store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”
Jesus tells us to “strive toward the kingdom.” To trust in God’s providence and to strive for the kingdom. To trust that God will care for us. That God has created enough for us and for everyone else. To stop worrying. And to move from a place of scarcity to a place of abundance. From an orientation of hoarding to an orientation of sharing. To think, “If I have too much, it means that someone else probably doesn’t have enough.”
At the beginning of our service today, you made a list of things that belong to you. Pick one now. Think about how you might use that one thing right now to help other people or to worship God.
When we change our heart. Or our minds. When we change our orientation from one of scarcity to one of abundance and of trust in God’s providence, this creates a whole new appreciation of how we hold things in common with each other. It is a system of economics that we may not understand or that might not seem at all reasonable according to the ways of our world, but it is one that, as Walter Brueggemann writes, will eventually “blow our socks off.”
Because God is abundant. God is gracious. And God loves us and proves that love for us on the cross. That, my friends, is our treasure. That is what are to seek and what we are to strive for--a deeper faith in a God who has given us everything. Everything. Including God’s very own life. For us and for all people.
Strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness. And all these things will be given to you as well. Amen.
Preached August 19, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
13th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Matthew 6:19-34 (Psalm 51:6-9)
“The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!
“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.Grace and peace to you from God, our abundant Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. Matt. 6:19-34 (NRSV)
Money. That is central to what we are talking about for the next three weeks. Money. Does this subject make you as uncomfortable as it makes me?
Our focus during this time will center around this overall theme of “treasure in heaven.” And, then, each week, we will look at a different text from each of the three synoptic gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke. We’ll be looking at three different contexts, three different emphases, and then, in particular, three different challenges. Three different things that challenge us in our relationship with God and with money and, especially that challenge our generosity. These three things are worry, grief, and fear.
Does anyone here have a dollar bill on them? Or it can be a bill of any denomination? (In today’s cashless world, these is getting harder and harder to find, isn’t it?) When you look at the bill, what do you see? Amount of bill, former leader, words “In God We Trust.”
In God We Trust. (Just a little bit of trivia here, but did you know that the requirement to use these words on every denomination of American currency was passed in 1956, not really that long ago.) Isn’t it a little ironic that, on the very thing that causes so much tension and conflict in our lives, in our relationships, in our work, and, yes, right here in our church--on the actual money we use day in and day out are these words: In God we trust. Because it is money and the power of money that is one of the things that we struggle with the most in our relationship with God.
We worry about money constantly, don’t we? What worries you most about your money? We worry about how much we have. Or don’t have. We worry about the power it has in our lives. We worry about how much time we spend earning it. As we get older, we even worry about what we will do with it after we die. Money or our worry over money is one of the highest causes of anxiety and conflict in our relationships.
We worry constantly about money. It’s why Jesus talk about money ALL THE TIME.
I really dislike preaching about money. Maybe it would be different if I had it all figured out. But, I don’t. And I worry about it. I come from a long line of worry-ers, in fact. And I have graciously passed my practice of worrying onto my son. It is just easy to worry over it, isn’t. This constant question of how much I should save. Or how much, especially for us in the church, I should give away.
And, then, as though the answer was easy, Jesus simply says, “Don’t worry!” Yeah, right!
And, yet, it really comes down to whether or not we believe the words we find on our own currency--the words, ”In God We Trust.” Because to trust in God is to believe that there is enough in our world. That God cares abundantly for our world and has provided enough for each one of us. The word we often uses to talk about this is “providence,” God’s providence. To believe in God’s providence is to believe, no matter what, God will care for and protect us. That God will provide for us what we need. (Notice, I said need. Not want.) It’s what we pray for each time we say the Lord’s Prayer. “Give us this day our daily bread.” Notice that the focus in this prayer given to us by Jesus is on today. Not tomorrow, but today. Give us this day our daily bread.
Haven’t you experienced this? Haven’t you experienced God’s providence in your own life? I know I have. In my late 20’s, after my husband and I separated, I had physical custody of my son. It was expensive to pay for rent and utilities for us and for food and clothing for us all by myself. There were many times that my paycheck ran out days before my next payday and I had no idea where our next meal might come from. Where my next tank of gas might come from. Or how I might keep the lights on over our heads. And, yet, there was never a time that we didn’t have enough to survive. That somehow, something or someone would show up in our lives at just the right time with just what we needed. Coincidence? Maybe. But it happened so much then and throughout my life that it is way beyond coincidence. That I can attribute it only to God and God’s providence. That it is a God-thing.
God cares abundantly for our world. God has provided enough for everyone. What then, we might ask, about those who don’t have enough in their lives? About the poor? Or the disadvantaged? After all, we see them all the time here at Grace & Glory. Our food pantry clients. Others who come to us asking for money or for a tank of gas. If God provides enough for everyone, then, why are their people like this in our world.
The simple answer? Sin. Because sin tells us that there isn’t enough in our world. That there isn’t enough for everyone. Sin leads us to worry, to live in anxiety. Sin leads us to a mindset of scarcity. That we need to hold onto our stuff. Sin leads to hoarding. Sin separates us from right relationship with God.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…” Jesus says in our text today. “...[B]ut store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”
Jesus tells us to “strive toward the kingdom.” To trust in God’s providence and to strive for the kingdom. To trust that God will care for us. That God has created enough for us and for everyone else. To stop worrying. And to move from a place of scarcity to a place of abundance. From an orientation of hoarding to an orientation of sharing. To think, “If I have too much, it means that someone else probably doesn’t have enough.”
At the beginning of our service today, you made a list of things that belong to you. Pick one now. Think about how you might use that one thing right now to help other people or to worship God.
When we change our heart. Or our minds. When we change our orientation from one of scarcity to one of abundance and of trust in God’s providence, this creates a whole new appreciation of how we hold things in common with each other. It is a system of economics that we may not understand or that might not seem at all reasonable according to the ways of our world, but it is one that, as Walter Brueggemann writes, will eventually “blow our socks off.”
Because God is abundant. God is gracious. And God loves us and proves that love for us on the cross. That, my friends, is our treasure. That is what are to seek and what we are to strive for--a deeper faith in a God who has given us everything. Everything. Including God’s very own life. For us and for all people.
Strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness. And all these things will be given to you as well. Amen.
Preached August 19, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
13th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Matthew 6:19-34 (Psalm 51:6-9)
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Ruth--A Story for Our Time: New Life
Grace and peace to you from God, our faithful Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Before I move into today’s Gospel lesson, I thought it might be helpful for us to have a little review. We’ve been in the book of Ruth for four weeks. Today, will be our last in the series that we’ve called, “Ruth--A Story for Our Time.”
So, do any of you remember back to that first week of this series? What was happening in the story? It was a chaotic time--when the judges ruled. A time when “each person did what they thought was right.” (Judges 21.25) There was a famine. Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, moved from Bethlehem to Moab because of famine. They were strangers in a new land, trying to adapt, trying to fit in. While there they had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion.
What happened while they were in Moab? Elimelech died unexpectedly. Then, after Mahlon and Chilion were married, they, too, died unexpectedly. With no children, no heirs, to pass on their line. This left Naomi and Ruth and Orpah all by themselves. Widows. Childless. Vulnerable. Naomi decided to move back to her ancestral home. Ruth, even though she was a Moabite and would be a foreigner in Israel, chose to move with Naomi.
Do you recall the last words of Naomi in the first chapter? “Don’t call me Naomi, but call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has returned me empty.” Even with Ruth, this brave and courageous daughter-in-law standing at her side, Naomi still called herself bitter. And empty.
Over the next couple of chapters, we saw Ruth at work, didn’t we? Needing to find a way to ensure, not only her security, but also that of her mother-in-law. So, she began to glean in the fields of a man named...Do any of you remember his name?...of a man named Boaz. Who, as it turned out, was kin--family--to Naomi. He was a relative of Naomi’s deceased husband, Elimelech. We saw the generosity of Boaz to Ruth--a woman who was not only a widow and childless, which would have put her on the fringes of the community there. But, also an immigrant, which would have made her triply vulnerable.
And, then, last week, Ruth, knowing she needed to ensure greater security for herself and for Naomi...engaging in a scandalous act. A seduction really. Something that would have been completely inappropriate for any woman of her time, much less for an immigrant woman. A counter-cultural act. Proposing marriage to Boaz. Challenging him to fulfill his obligation to her and to Naomi to be their kinsman-redeemer. Their go-el. This tradition--in fact, this command from God--that required the next closest male kin to marry the widow, to ensure her safety and security and her future.
So, Boaz agrees. Except there is one little complication. Boaz is not quite the next-of-kin. He is the next next-of-kin. So, under the law, he is required to take this situation to Naomi’s next-of-kin. This is where our story picks up this morning.
We read from Ruth, chapter 4, from the Common English Bible translation:
Meanwhile, Boaz went up to the gate and sat down there. Just then, the redeemer about whom Boaz had spoken was passing by. He said, “Sir, come over here and sit down.” So he turned aside and sat down. Then he took ten men from the town’s elders and said, “Sit down here.” And they sat down.
Boaz said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has returned from the field of Moab, is selling the portion of the field that belonged to our brother Elimelech. I thought that I should let you know and say, ‘Buy it, in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you won’t redeem it, tell me so that I may know. There isn’t anyone to redeem it except you, and I’m next in line after you.”
He replied, “I will redeem it.”
Then Boaz said, “On the day when you buy the field from Naomi, you also buy Ruth the Moabite, the wife of the dead man, in order to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance.”
But the redeemer replied, “Then I can’t redeem it for myself, without risking damage to my own inheritance. Redeem it for yourself. You can have my right of redemption, because I’m unable to act as redeemer.”
In Israel, in former times, this was the practice regarding redemption and exchange to confirm any such matter: a man would take off his sandal and give it to the other person. This was the process of making a transaction binding in Israel. Then the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” and he took off his sandal.
Boaz announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I’ve bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. And also Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, I’ve bought to be my wife, to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance so that the name of the dead man might not be cut off from his brothers or from the gate of his hometown—today you are witnesses.”
Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your household be like Rachel and like Leah, both of whom built up the house of Israel. May you be fertile in Ephrathah and may you preserve a name in Bethlehem. And may your household be like the household of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah—through the children that the Lord will give you from this young woman.”
So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.
He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, “May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn’t left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She’s better for you than seven sons.” Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They called his name Obed. He became Jesse’s father and David’s grandfather.
These are the generations of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David.
It’s kind of funny, the beginning of today’s episode. Here we have two men, two relatives to Naomi. Boaz. And the other, unnamed. In fact, in the Hebrew, he’s called “so-and-so.” “Hey, so-and-so!” Boaz calls him at the beginning of our story. “Hey, so-and-so, I have something I need to talk to you about. But, I need to do it in front of ten elders--a quorum--because I need to ensure that it is a legal transaction.”
And, so they engage in conversation. Negotiation, really. Just as we have seen so many of these conversations throughout these chapters of Ruth. Conversations in which things are worked out. Issues are resolved. Problems are solved. Conversations that happen like this not only in Ruth, but throughout all of Scripture. People talking to each other. Trying to work things out. And God, often hidden, but still present, at work.
Once this unnamed relative of Naomi's hears that there’s property available, he’s all ears. But, then, when he finds out there is a woman attached to the deal--an immigrant woman, in fact--he walks away. One has to wonder why? Maybe he already had too many wives? Or, more likely, it was because Ruth was a foreigner. An immigrant. After all, in all of the conversation she is called Ruth the Moabite. It’s almost her scarlet letter, isn’t it?
But “so-and-so’s” loss is Boaz’s gain! Because for him, the land isn’t as important as the woman. A woman whom he has seen and named as a woman of worth. So, Boaz and Ruth are married. And, then, our story reads, “God let her become pregnant.” They had a son. They’re firstborn son. Whom they named, Obed.
If we go back throughout this story of Ruth and the conversations that happened, do you wonder what the characters were feeling as they were taking place? What was Naomi thinking as she told both Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Was she anxious about how people in her homeland might respond to her daughters-in-law? Her foreign daughters-in-law?
Or what about Ruth when she made her marriage proposal to Boaz? One has to wonder--knowing how completely countercultural her proposal was--whether she felt anxious? What if he had said no? What if he had dismissed her because she was an immigrant? A foreigner?
And, then, what of this conversation today, between Boaz and “so-and-so?” How anxious was Boaz feeling, going into this negotiation? Not knowing how it might end up. But hoping, against all hope, that he would walk away and be able to marry Ruth.
How many conversations do you enter into that you are anxious about? A little nervous? Not knowing what will happen. Whether the conversation might go wrong and make things worse. Or if it might go well. Or somewhere in between.
I have to confess to you that, this past Wednesday evening, as Pastor Lisa and I were preparing for our Sacred Conversation--our deliberative dialogue--around this very difficult topic of immigration, I was anxious. And nervous. Not knowing what would happen. Whether it would go well. Or not so well. Whether people would even show up. Even want to try to engage around a hot topic. Maybe, if you attended, you felt the same way.
As the evening progressed, though--as we between to talk to each other, to listen and to be open to learning new things, I have to say that I began to feel hopeful. That, perhaps, we could do this. That, through our conversation, a new way might appear. That we might find begin to find agreement on things. And to honestly admit the places of tension, of disagreement, yet with some sense of resolve or hope that, even in these places, we might be able to come together.
By the end of the evening, that hope had turned into something more like joy. As I listened to people laugh and joke with each other, knowing that they might be in different places politically, there was joy in the knowledge that were still sisters and brothers in Christ and that God had been at work in our conversation. Bringing hope and joy out of anxiety. Bringing new, collaborative possibilities out of old, divisive ways. Bringing fullness out of emptiness. Bringing life out of death.
Because isn’t that God’s way? Isn’t that God’s hesed? You know that word don’t you--a word meaning steadfast love and faithfulness? Even better, love-in-action. God’s love-in-action. A hesed that reached its fullest for us at the cross. God’s fullest love-in-action. Scandalous. Counter-cultural. Life-giving for us. And bring us fullness out of emptiness.
And, that, my friends, is what this story of Ruth has been all about. God’s hesed. How God has worked behind the scenes and through the conversations in this story to bring, especially for Naomi, fullness out of her emptiness. Hope out of loss. Joy out of bitterness. New life out of death. A grandson, who will be in the ancestral line of the King of Kings--our Savior, Jesus Christ.
This is a story for our time. It is a way of being together for our time. It is God’s way. A way of love-in-action.
Thanks be to God! Amen.
Preached at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 12
Readings: Ruth 4:1-22 (Luke 1:46-55)
Before I move into today’s Gospel lesson, I thought it might be helpful for us to have a little review. We’ve been in the book of Ruth for four weeks. Today, will be our last in the series that we’ve called, “Ruth--A Story for Our Time.”
So, do any of you remember back to that first week of this series? What was happening in the story? It was a chaotic time--when the judges ruled. A time when “each person did what they thought was right.” (Judges 21.25) There was a famine. Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, moved from Bethlehem to Moab because of famine. They were strangers in a new land, trying to adapt, trying to fit in. While there they had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion.
What happened while they were in Moab? Elimelech died unexpectedly. Then, after Mahlon and Chilion were married, they, too, died unexpectedly. With no children, no heirs, to pass on their line. This left Naomi and Ruth and Orpah all by themselves. Widows. Childless. Vulnerable. Naomi decided to move back to her ancestral home. Ruth, even though she was a Moabite and would be a foreigner in Israel, chose to move with Naomi.
Do you recall the last words of Naomi in the first chapter? “Don’t call me Naomi, but call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has returned me empty.” Even with Ruth, this brave and courageous daughter-in-law standing at her side, Naomi still called herself bitter. And empty.
Over the next couple of chapters, we saw Ruth at work, didn’t we? Needing to find a way to ensure, not only her security, but also that of her mother-in-law. So, she began to glean in the fields of a man named...Do any of you remember his name?...of a man named Boaz. Who, as it turned out, was kin--family--to Naomi. He was a relative of Naomi’s deceased husband, Elimelech. We saw the generosity of Boaz to Ruth--a woman who was not only a widow and childless, which would have put her on the fringes of the community there. But, also an immigrant, which would have made her triply vulnerable.
And, then, last week, Ruth, knowing she needed to ensure greater security for herself and for Naomi...engaging in a scandalous act. A seduction really. Something that would have been completely inappropriate for any woman of her time, much less for an immigrant woman. A counter-cultural act. Proposing marriage to Boaz. Challenging him to fulfill his obligation to her and to Naomi to be their kinsman-redeemer. Their go-el. This tradition--in fact, this command from God--that required the next closest male kin to marry the widow, to ensure her safety and security and her future.
So, Boaz agrees. Except there is one little complication. Boaz is not quite the next-of-kin. He is the next next-of-kin. So, under the law, he is required to take this situation to Naomi’s next-of-kin. This is where our story picks up this morning.
We read from Ruth, chapter 4, from the Common English Bible translation:
Meanwhile, Boaz went up to the gate and sat down there. Just then, the redeemer about whom Boaz had spoken was passing by. He said, “Sir, come over here and sit down.” So he turned aside and sat down. Then he took ten men from the town’s elders and said, “Sit down here.” And they sat down.
Boaz said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has returned from the field of Moab, is selling the portion of the field that belonged to our brother Elimelech. I thought that I should let you know and say, ‘Buy it, in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you won’t redeem it, tell me so that I may know. There isn’t anyone to redeem it except you, and I’m next in line after you.”
He replied, “I will redeem it.”
Then Boaz said, “On the day when you buy the field from Naomi, you also buy Ruth the Moabite, the wife of the dead man, in order to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance.”
But the redeemer replied, “Then I can’t redeem it for myself, without risking damage to my own inheritance. Redeem it for yourself. You can have my right of redemption, because I’m unable to act as redeemer.”
In Israel, in former times, this was the practice regarding redemption and exchange to confirm any such matter: a man would take off his sandal and give it to the other person. This was the process of making a transaction binding in Israel. Then the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” and he took off his sandal.
Boaz announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I’ve bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. And also Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, I’ve bought to be my wife, to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance so that the name of the dead man might not be cut off from his brothers or from the gate of his hometown—today you are witnesses.”
Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your household be like Rachel and like Leah, both of whom built up the house of Israel. May you be fertile in Ephrathah and may you preserve a name in Bethlehem. And may your household be like the household of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah—through the children that the Lord will give you from this young woman.”
So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.
He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, “May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn’t left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She’s better for you than seven sons.” Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They called his name Obed. He became Jesse’s father and David’s grandfather.
These are the generations of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David.
It’s kind of funny, the beginning of today’s episode. Here we have two men, two relatives to Naomi. Boaz. And the other, unnamed. In fact, in the Hebrew, he’s called “so-and-so.” “Hey, so-and-so!” Boaz calls him at the beginning of our story. “Hey, so-and-so, I have something I need to talk to you about. But, I need to do it in front of ten elders--a quorum--because I need to ensure that it is a legal transaction.”
And, so they engage in conversation. Negotiation, really. Just as we have seen so many of these conversations throughout these chapters of Ruth. Conversations in which things are worked out. Issues are resolved. Problems are solved. Conversations that happen like this not only in Ruth, but throughout all of Scripture. People talking to each other. Trying to work things out. And God, often hidden, but still present, at work.
Once this unnamed relative of Naomi's hears that there’s property available, he’s all ears. But, then, when he finds out there is a woman attached to the deal--an immigrant woman, in fact--he walks away. One has to wonder why? Maybe he already had too many wives? Or, more likely, it was because Ruth was a foreigner. An immigrant. After all, in all of the conversation she is called Ruth the Moabite. It’s almost her scarlet letter, isn’t it?
But “so-and-so’s” loss is Boaz’s gain! Because for him, the land isn’t as important as the woman. A woman whom he has seen and named as a woman of worth. So, Boaz and Ruth are married. And, then, our story reads, “God let her become pregnant.” They had a son. They’re firstborn son. Whom they named, Obed.
If we go back throughout this story of Ruth and the conversations that happened, do you wonder what the characters were feeling as they were taking place? What was Naomi thinking as she told both Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Was she anxious about how people in her homeland might respond to her daughters-in-law? Her foreign daughters-in-law?
Or what about Ruth when she made her marriage proposal to Boaz? One has to wonder--knowing how completely countercultural her proposal was--whether she felt anxious? What if he had said no? What if he had dismissed her because she was an immigrant? A foreigner?
And, then, what of this conversation today, between Boaz and “so-and-so?” How anxious was Boaz feeling, going into this negotiation? Not knowing how it might end up. But hoping, against all hope, that he would walk away and be able to marry Ruth.
How many conversations do you enter into that you are anxious about? A little nervous? Not knowing what will happen. Whether the conversation might go wrong and make things worse. Or if it might go well. Or somewhere in between.
I have to confess to you that, this past Wednesday evening, as Pastor Lisa and I were preparing for our Sacred Conversation--our deliberative dialogue--around this very difficult topic of immigration, I was anxious. And nervous. Not knowing what would happen. Whether it would go well. Or not so well. Whether people would even show up. Even want to try to engage around a hot topic. Maybe, if you attended, you felt the same way.
As the evening progressed, though--as we between to talk to each other, to listen and to be open to learning new things, I have to say that I began to feel hopeful. That, perhaps, we could do this. That, through our conversation, a new way might appear. That we might find begin to find agreement on things. And to honestly admit the places of tension, of disagreement, yet with some sense of resolve or hope that, even in these places, we might be able to come together.
By the end of the evening, that hope had turned into something more like joy. As I listened to people laugh and joke with each other, knowing that they might be in different places politically, there was joy in the knowledge that were still sisters and brothers in Christ and that God had been at work in our conversation. Bringing hope and joy out of anxiety. Bringing new, collaborative possibilities out of old, divisive ways. Bringing fullness out of emptiness. Bringing life out of death.
Because isn’t that God’s way? Isn’t that God’s hesed? You know that word don’t you--a word meaning steadfast love and faithfulness? Even better, love-in-action. God’s love-in-action. A hesed that reached its fullest for us at the cross. God’s fullest love-in-action. Scandalous. Counter-cultural. Life-giving for us. And bring us fullness out of emptiness.
And, that, my friends, is what this story of Ruth has been all about. God’s hesed. How God has worked behind the scenes and through the conversations in this story to bring, especially for Naomi, fullness out of her emptiness. Hope out of loss. Joy out of bitterness. New life out of death. A grandson, who will be in the ancestral line of the King of Kings--our Savior, Jesus Christ.
This is a story for our time. It is a way of being together for our time. It is God’s way. A way of love-in-action.
Thanks be to God! Amen.
Preached at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 12
Readings: Ruth 4:1-22 (Luke 1:46-55)
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