Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Be Afraid! Be Very Afraid! (Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:107; Pentecost 23a; Consecration Sunday; November 16, 2014)



Be Afraid!  Be Very Afraid!

Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:107
Pentecost 23a
Consecration Sunday
November 16, 2014

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, IA

We are the richest and most powerful people on the planet, perhaps even in history.  Our economy has dominated the world for nearly sixty years and our military is stronger than any conceivable combination of enemies.  And we are afraid.

We are afraid of terrorists.  We willingly submit to indignities when we travel by air because we are afraid and because we think that having a security agent paw through our belongings and gaze at the outline of our bodies under clothes via low-level x-rays will make us safer.  We allow the government to track our phone calls and our emails on the off chance that this intrusion into our privacy will reveal some undetected network of terrorists.

We are afraid of strange diseases like Ebola.  We quiver at descriptions of this disease of poverty, so much so that some of us demand quarantines for health workers, travel embargos from the whole continent of Africa, and a “sealed” border with Mexico.  We’ll feel safe if we hide behind our ten-foot walls and peer out at the rest of the world through the razor wire.

We are afraid of children fleeing from horrible conditions of violence and poverty who hope against hope that we mean the words on the plaque at the foot of the Statue of Liberty.  We round them up, herd them into detention centers, deny them their rights under our own laws, and ship them back as quickly as we can.  We’ll feel safer if we can postpone the coming day when most Americans will not be non-Hispanic whites.

We are often afraid of the wrong things.  We react with near hysteria when a heroic doctor who has been fighting tooth and nail to stem the tide of Ebola in West Africa arrives in the United States with the disease.  When others arrive symptom-free from the same work some call for their quarantine.  But Ebola is not easy to catch and, given modern treatment facilities, the survival rate is very high.  The death toll from Ebola in the United States so far has been: one.  And there are currently no active cases.

If you want something fear, try influenza.  It’s hard to know exactly how many die from this disease each year.  According to the CDC nearly 54,000 died from influenza and/or pneumonia in 2011.[1]  It would be reasonable to be afraid of the flu, even to the point of getting vaccinated every year and learning to wash our hands more often. 

Or how about being afraid of suicide, if not for ourselves, at least for the people around us?  Over 39,000 died intentionally at their own hands in 2011.[2]  I’ll wager that the vast majority of those died from depression, a disease that is treatable.

We’re afraid of terrorists, so we’ve sent our armed forces around the globe to engage them directly and we fire missiles at them from drones.  We mourn the cost in American lives and we count that as a measure of dangerous our enemies are.  But since September 11, 2001, more women have died at the hands of husbands, boyfriends or “ex’s” than service members at the hands of enemies.[3], [4]

We are afraid, often of the wrong things.  We’re easy to scare.  When we’re scared the primitive part of our brain takes over, the part of our brain that we have in common with lizards and birds.  We move into “fight, flight, or freeze” mode.  We’re no longer able to see the big picture or think in a complex way.  When we’re scared, we get bird-brained. 

It’s easy to sell things to bird-brained people.  “Your home is at risk for a burglary; buy a home security system.”  “The brand new appliance we just sold you could break down at any moment; buy an extended warranty.”  “The world is full of people who have guns and want to hurt you; buy a gun.”  “If Republicans win, it will mean the end of life as we know it; vote Democrat.”  “If Democrats win, it will mean the end of life as we know it; vote Republican.” 

But there are also real dangers.  There are times when fear is reasonable and in our reading for today, Judah was going through one of those times.

A thing about life in the little countries at the eastern end of the Mediterranean—like Judah—was that they lived between the ancient superpowers.  To their south and west was Egypt along the Nile River.  To Judah’s north and east were the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers where a series of empires rose and fell: the Sumerians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Persians.  In Isaiah’s day the Assyrian Empire was moving, conquering Syria, Lebanon, and Israel, one after the other. 

Then Assyria came to Judah, swallowing its towns and villages until there was only Jerusalem left.  The mightiest army in the western world showed up at the gates.  Here is how the story reads in Isaiah:

36:1 Assyria’s King Sennacherib marched against all of Judah’s fortified cities and captured them in the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah. Assyria’s king sent his field commander from Lachish, together with a large army, to King Hezekiah at Jerusalem. He stood at the water channel of the Upper Pool, which is on the road to the field where clothes are washed. Hilkiah’s son Eliakim, who was the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and Asaph’s son Joah the recorder went out to them.

13 Then the field commander stood up and shouted in Hebrew at the top of his voice: “Listen to the message of the great king, Assyria’s king. 14 The king says this: Don’t let Hezekiah lie to you. He won’t be able to rescue you. 15 Don’t let Hezekiah persuade you to trust the Lord by saying, ‘The Lord will certainly rescue us. This city won’t be handed over to Assyria’s king.’

16 “Don’t listen to Hezekiah, because this is what Assyria’s king says: Surrender to me and come out. Then each of you will eat from your own vine and fig tree and drink water from your own well 17 until I come to take you to a land just like your land. It will be a land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. 18 Don’t let Hezekiah fool you by saying, ‘The Lord will rescue us.’ Did any of the other gods of the nations save their lands from the power of Assyria’s king? 19 Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Did they rescue Samaria from my power? 20 Which one of the gods from those countries has rescued their land from my power? Will the Lord save Jerusalem from my power?”

The Judeans set out to observe the diplomatic niceties.  Judah sent the palace administrator, the royal secretary and a scribe.  Sennacherib’s field commander spoke for the Assyrians.  This meeting was supposed to be a formal one, but Sennacherib’s man broke the rules right away by talking past Judah’s representatives to the anxious and fearful residents of Jerusalem itself.  Not only that, but he did it in Hebrew, so that there would be no chance to soften his words in translation. 

The Assyrian laid out two choices.  The first was the old dream of the good life: They would be resettled in a new place where each would eat from their own vine and fig tree and drink from their own well.  The second choice was to resist.  In that case they would be killed.  All of them.  They should consider carefully and not be deceived by the king or his priests.  The gods of Assyria were stronger than all other gods and they gave victory to their armies.  No gods had been able to defend a city against Assyria and Yahweh would not be able to defend Jerusalem.

Everyone in Jerusalem was scared.  Fear crept through the streets and into every home, from the smallest hovel to the royal palace itself, like a deadly fog.  It infected the king, Hezekiah.

Now Hezekiah wasn’t a bad king.  His security apparatus had done its homework.  They knew Sennacherib was coming.  They knew there was no way to negotiate.  Hezekiah had stoked the defense department.  They had good weapons; they were well-trained; they were ready for almost anything.  But they weren’t ready for this.  There were enemy soldiers as far as the eye could see.  The Assyrians had only to wait for hunger to do its work.  Then it would be a simple matter to overrun the defenses and Jerusalem would be theirs. 

37:1 When King Hezekiah heard this, he ripped his clothes, covered himself with mourning clothes, and went to the Lord’s temple. He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests to the prophet Isaiah, Amoz’s son. They were all wearing mourning clothes. They said to him, “Hezekiah says this: Today is a day of distress, punishment, and humiliation. It’s as if children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength to see it through. Perhaps the Lord your God heard all the words of the field commander who was sent by his master, Assyria’s king. He insulted the living God! Perhaps he will punish him for the words that the Lord your God has heard. Offer up a prayer for those few people who still survive.”

When King Hezekiah’s servants got to Isaiah, Isaiah said to them, “Say this to your master: The Lord says this: Don’t be afraid at the words you heard, which the officers of Assyria’s king have used to insult me. I’m about to mislead him, so when he hears a rumor, he’ll go back to his own country. Then I’ll have him cut down by the sword in his own land.”

King Hezekiah ripped his clothes, the sign of mourning.  His leading servants, Eliakim, Shebna, and the senior priests put on mourning clothes.  It was as if the siege were already over, the city overrun, the people slaughtered, and the Temple left as a pile of smoking rubble.  I’ll give this to Hezekiah: even in his fear he held the possibility that Yahweh would act, if only to defend his reputation.  Perhaps Isaiah could tell him if Yahweh would yet come to their aid or whether Hezekiah had to accept utter defeat. 

The people of Jerusalem were afraid; the king was afraid, the priests and royal servants were afraid; the army of Judah was afraid.  To all of them, but especially to Hezekiah, Isaiah’s message from Yahweh was this: “Don’t be afraid!”  Appearances were deceiving.  The armies of Assyria would be recalled.  Judah would be spared.  Sennacherib himself would be assassinated. 

And so it happened.  A few days later those in Jerusalem awoke to discover that the army of Assyria had vanished in the night.  Sennacherib went home where he was killed by two of his sons.

To a fearful world, God says simply, “Don’t be afraid.”  All of our fears, even the real ones, but especially the false fears that our world is so good at cultivating, all of our fears are unnecessary.  Wherever God is fear evaporates.  Do not be afraid.

What does this have to do with Consecration Sunday?  Much. 

When we are afraid, we hold back.  We imagine all sorts of things that can happen.  We gather our resources around us, like Hezekiah stockpiling water and food in expectation of a siege.  We hoard our energy, our time, and our money.  Generosity and fear are seldom found together. 

Now is the time for us to set aside our fears so that we may be the people God dreams for us to be and enter whole-heartedly into this life that God has called us to live.  Our strength, our thoughts, our affections, and, yes, even our wallets are summoned.  Be unafraid.  Be very unafraid.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.

Monday, November 10, 2014

A Ministry of Irritation (Micah 5:2-4; 6:6-8; Pentecost 22a; November 9, 2014)



A Ministry of Irritation

Micah 5:2-4; 6:6-8
Pentecost 22a
November 9, 2014

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, IA

We are the heirs of a rich tradition.  We have a sacred text with roots that go back three and half millennia.  We have patterns of worship and time that shape our lives.  We have a line of heroes and heroines—like Oscar Romero, Dorothy Day, Teresa of Ávila, Francis of Assisi, Benedict of Nursia, and Agnes of Rome, among countless others—that stretch from present into the distant past.  We have the stories of God’s people in the Hebrew and Greek Testaments. 

If there were no churches, no stained glass, no organ music, no choirs, no vestments, no Sunday school rooms, no mission agencies, no pension funds or conference centers, we would still be rich.  We would have this legacy of God’s people.

A priceless part of that legacy is the tradition of the prophets.   We think of prophets as people who can see into the future.  That would be a handy talent to have.  Every culture has had its ways of trying to see what will happen.  The Chinese had their I Ching, the Babylonians their astrology, and the Romans their augury and auspices.  Today, of course, we have economists.

But biblical prophets were not mostly concerned with telling the future.  Biblical prophets experienced a relation with God that allowed them to understand what God was doing in the present situation.  They were social critics, poets, preachers, and performance artists.  Their gift was not so much foresight as it was insight. 

We’ve already met two of them this fall.  Three weeks ago we met Nathan who confronted David about “the thing that he had done.” Last week we met Elisha who told the Syrian general Naaman to go jump in a lake.  Seven times.  Or maybe it was a river.  Anyway.

This week we meet a new thing, a thing that is, as far as I know, unique in the history of religions: a literary prophet, a prophet whose prophecies have come to us in a written and literary form.  Amos and Hosea were the first and lived in the middle seven hundreds bce.  Micah came along a little later and lived in the late seven hundreds at about the same time as the prophet Isaiah.

The narrative lectionary assigns a reading made up of two separate passages in Micah.  The first is a promise of a king in the old style, in the pattern set by David, a text we’re used to hearing in Advent.  The second is the famous summary of covenant life: “The [Lord] God has told us what is right and what he demands: ‘See that justice is done, let mercy be your first concern, and humbly obey your God,’” more familiar to us, perhaps, as “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?”

I wasn’t sure at first what to make of this.  But the more I’ve chewed on this the more sense it makes.  The two themes in these two passages run through all of the literary prophets. 

The first is the dream of a righteous king, a king who will use his power to protect the weak from the strong, a king who will safeguard the covenant and its people.  When Micah dreamed this dream he naturally enough thought of David, born in Bethlehem of Ephrathah of the least of the clans of Judah, who became the king of a united Israel.  It was a good dream, but every time they thought they had a king who came close, he ended up letting them down.

They should have known.  Another prophet, Samuel, had told them.  Israel had asked for a king “like other nations,” one who could lead and protect them.  Samuel saw that this request was a rejection of Yahweh’s rule and warned Israel of danger:

These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots.  He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers.  He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers.  He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers.  He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work.  He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves.  And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day.

And that’s what happened.  But the dream died hard.  It lived on in the imagination of the prophets, not so much as an expectation but as an indictment of the kings they had, kings that fell far short of the dream of a righteous king, kings that oppressed the poor and favored the rich, kings that exploited the widow, the orphan and the immigrant.

The real danger, even worse than bad kings who failed to remember the covenant, was the kings who would warp the dream into a nightmare.  They took God’s promise to defend Jerusalem and to uphold the king of David’s line as permission to do as they liked.  God would always put a king of David’s line on the throne in Jerusalem.  Jerusalem was the city on a hill.  It would never fall to an enemy.  God would protect it. 

This warped sense of entitlement infected Judah and its kings simply forgot the heart of the covenant.  And that’s where the second prophetic theme came in.  Prophets were not terribly impressed with what we call religion.  Rituals, sacrifices, ceremonies, seasons and holy days may be useful for us, but they can also be a danger.  There is a matter at the heart of the covenant |and Micah tells us what that is: “See that justice is done, let mercy be your first concern, and humbly obey your God.”  These are not really three different things, but three ways of saying the same thing, and it is one way of summing up the prophetic message.  God is, in Walter Brueggemann’s phrase, “passionately committed to justice.” 

When we talk about justice, we normally mean criminal justice, we mean that people who break the law will be punished.  We certainly have laws and we certainly punish the people who break them.  We jail more of our population than any other nation on earth.  But that’s not what God means by justice.

When we push a little, we might say that justice means that everyone plays the game by the same rules.  Justice is a level playing field.  Of course, the game has winners and losers because some are better at the game.  Those who lose the game are losers.  We wouldn’t dream of blaming the game itself.  The game is just the way the world is.  As long as the rules are the same for everyone, we call it just. 

But God doesn’t.  God isn’t a referee who cares only about the rules of the game.  God takes sides.  The passage goes on to define justice, mercy and humble obedience.  It comes in the form of an indictment, but God’s passionate commitment to justice is obvious:

Can I forget the treasures of wickedness in the house of the wicked, and the scant measure that is accursed?  Can I tolerate wicked scales and a bag of dishonest weights?  Your wealthy are full of violence; your inhabitants speak lies, with tongues of deceit in their mouths.  Therefore I have begun to strike you down, making you desolate because of your sins.  You shall eat, but not be satisfied, and there shall be a gnawing hunger within you; you shall put away, but not save, and what you save, I will hand over to the sword.  You shall sow, but not reap; you shall tread olives, but not anoint yourselves with oil; you shall tread grapes, but not drink wine.

When the game is rigged, God sides with the poor, the powerless, and the excluded, against the rich and powerful insiders.  This is the tradition of the prophets that came down through Samuel, Nathan, and Elisha to Amos, Hosea, and Micah, and on through Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, to John the Baptist and to Jesus.  And we who worship this God, who hear these stories week after week, who call ourselves Christians, are heirs to this tradition.

During the coming week, you’ll be making a decision about your church giving in 2015.  Maybe you’ve already done that.  There are many reasons that you can consider.  You can consider the programs of the church.  The Sunday school, the music program, the UMW circles, the fellowship groups are all good reasons for giving.  The work of the United Methodist connection in Iowa, the United States and around the world that combines the contributions of many to do things that we can hardly imagine, things like the end of malaria in Africa, is another.  The mere fact that the church as an organization allows for the mutual support and care that we experience here, is yet another. 

But for me, there is the matter of God’s passionate commitment to justice.  In a world of institutionalized violence and ruthless competition, a dream for some bought at the price of a nightmare for others, in a world system rigged to give more power and wealth to those with power and wealth, someone needs to take the side of the poor and powerless.  It certainly won’t be the governmental and financial institutions.  It falls to us, God’s people, the Church, to carry on the prophetic tradition.  That’s reason enough to give our time, and our energy, and our wealth, and our lives. 

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.


The Gift of Wisdom (1 Kings 3:4-9, 16-28; Pentecost 20a; October 26, 2014)



The Gift of Wisdom

1 Kings 3:4-9, 16-28
Pentecost 20a
October 26, 2014

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, IA

My children’s bible was relatively well-censored, but somehow this story got in.  And it came with an illustration, too.  There were two women in the royal court with their long hair unpinned and disordered.  One was on her knees, pleading with tears.  The other was standing with her arms crossed, looking like she’d just eaten some cream of mushroom soup that was past its “use by” date.  Solomon sat on his throne, looking stern.  A soldier was holding a crying baby by its ankle in his left hand and holding a sword in his right hand ready to strike.  The picture froze the story in the terrible moment of decision.

Reading the story, I learned that Solomon had to decide—without the benefit of DNA testing—which of the two women was the mother of the child.  He hit on this strategy for testing them.  Sure enough the women revealed who they were and so Solomon had his answer.  It was a bluff.  All is well that ends well, I suppose.

And yet I kept coming back to the picture, the story frozen in the moment of its greatest horror.  The people’s “respect for the king grew,” the lesson says.  “Respect” here translates the word for fear which, granted, has a wide range of meanings, including awe.  The word of Solomon’s judgment spread and the people respected the king, were in awe of the king, or maybe they were just afraid.  I know I was afraid nearly three thousand years later just from looking at the picture!

Solomon was a wise man, so our tradition tells us.  They used to say that someone who could see past the surface into the heart of a matter had “the wisdom of Solomon.”  This, however, is the only example of Solomon’s wisdom that has come down to us.  What sort of wisdom is this?  It was useful, certainly.  It let Solomon dispose of legal cases that would have taken up a lot more of his time otherwise.  It enhanced his reputation.

I would call the Solomon of this story clever, rather than wise, but the ancients made no such distinction.  In Luke, for example, when Jesus promises his disciples wisdom, the purpose of that wisdom is so that will be able to give testimony that their opponents won’t be able to contradict.  Jesus in Matthew tells us to be “wise as serpents.”

There was a wisdom tradition in ancient Israel that continued for centuries.  Wisdom writers wrote a good deal of the Bible.  Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Job and many of the psalms are a part of what scholars call wisdom literature.  Scribes who were part of the civil service probably produced much of it.  They were bureaucrats even before there were bureaus.  When we look closely at what is in these books, we find that wisdom is often little more than practical advice for knowledge workers who were trying to get along in the competitive and political environment of the royal court. 

As an apprentice curmudgeon, one of the things that I like to complain about is the lack of wisdom in the world today: we have all sorts of knowledge, but very little wisdom.  I bristle when college majors are rated by how much you can expect to earn with a particular degree.  I achieve a state of high dudgeon when education is defined as preparing people for the job market.  We have developed great ability to advance in technology without learning how to ask—let alone answer—such basic questions as Why? and Should we?

For Solomon and the wisdom tradition that followed, wisdom was mostly a technique for governing.  Some of that technique was exercised through clay tablets and papyrus documents.  Some was exercised in architecture.  Solomon’s Temple, an ancient marvel, was propaganda in stone.  It proclaimed the eternal protective presence of Israel’s covenant God who would never let Israel suffer defeat and who would uphold David’s dynasty for all time.  In Solomon’s court the scribes kept track of the taxes owed, the labor drafted, and the goods given for God’s greater glory and the increase of Solomon’s power.  All of this was a part of the wisdom that Solomon prayed for.

And all of this, says the text, was so that Solomon could “execute justice.”  Well, that’s almost what it says.  What it says could be translated as “render judgment.” This gift of wisdom that Solomon as asked for could simply be the gift of being able to dispose of legal cases swiftly and in a way that impressed his subjects.  This would certainly make governing easier. 

But wisdom here is more than that.  It is “God’s wisdom…in him.”  This is not just a cleverness that lets Solomon govern with ease and efficiency for whatever ends he chooses.  This is God’s Hôkhmah, God’s Sophia, God’s Wisdom that has taken up residence “in him”, in the inner part of his body, his “innards.”  God’s Wisdom is as close to him as heartburn.  It is a part of him.  In this way, Solomon’s judgments will be a reflection of God’s judgments.  And, since God is passionately committed to justice, in this way, Solomon’s judgments will be just.  And that justice is not just for the rich and well-connected.  It’s for everyone, even for women counted among the lowest of the low.  Whatever it was that Solomon thought he was praying for, this is what his prayer meant.

From where I stand, it looks like we could use more of this kind of wisdom.  We could use more judgments aligned with the wisdom of God in the governing of our community, our nation and our world.  In a democracy, we say, the people rule.  We rule.  I’m one of the rulers of this country, speaking to other rulers of this country.  Like Solomon, we are called on once a year or so to render a judgment.  Sometimes the choices seem clear; other times not so much.  Sometimes the candidates sound like the women in our story, each claiming to be the victim of the other’s dirty tricks, each making a claim on the baby.  When we render our judgment by casting our vote, we need the same wisdom Solomon prayed for, not just to make our own lives easier, but so God’s wisdom might guide our judgment and justice might be done.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.