Such is the title of a book by Kenneth Leech, a classic evangelical Anglican priest, theologically conservative and a worker among the poor. It’s a somewhat difficult but excellent book, especially for Lent, as one might expect from its title, borrowed from Paul’s first letter to Corinth. The Corinthians were looking for signs or wisdom, but Paul wasn’t about to give them what they wanted. “We preach Christ crucified,” he wrote – a stumbling block instead of a sign, foolishness instead of wisdom. Indeed, the “scandal of the cross” remains a stumbling block for many, as Leech points out.
Paul is pretty hard on wisdom in this letter, no doubt because the Corinthians thought they were hot stuff. Paul knew he was even better. He wasn’t shy about pointing out how learned he was, advancing “beyond many among my people of the same age” because he was “far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors.” Later in life, his defense of himself was so spirited that the Roman governor told him that too much learning was driving him insane. Even the second letter of Peter commented that Paul’s letters have “some things in them hard to understand.” There’s an understatement!
Yet all of his learning Paul counts as nothing before the unsearchable riches of Jesus Christ. I’m reminded of another great theological mind, Thomas Aquinas. A few years after finishing his massive Summa Theologica, he had a mystical experience that led him to describe all of his works as “so much straw.” Wisdom is important, yes. But it is not the highest good. The most erudite writing about God does not compare with the direct experience of God.
That’s why there’s hope for us. “Consider your own call, brothers and sisters,” Paul writes, “not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.” And yet God chose us just the same. That’s the real foolishness of God. As Paul points out, it removes any reason we have to boast about ourselves. It also removes any reason for us to think that we are beneath God’s notice, that somehow we are not good enough for God. God chooses us anyway, knowing who we are – or rather, knowing who we can become.
This Sunday we’ll have the Annual Meeting at church. Some clergy give a “State of the Church” on that day. (Now where do you suppose they get that idea?) I’m one who thinks that the lessons preempt whatever else is going on, or more accurately, that Scripture interprets life, rather than the other way around. “We preach Christ crucified” is central to our faith. It doesn’t make sense to the ways of the world – but then, neither does going to church on Sunday morning, nor using one’s time and money to help others. Churches are, or should be, fundamentally counter-cultural. Sometimes they get caught up in the worries of the world, like paying for a new roof. But there’s always that call back to the love of God revealed to us through Jesus Christ. That’s the foolishness of God, wiser than any wisdom of this world. I’ll take that any day.
[Epiphany 4: 1 Corinthians 1:18-31. This is a Sunday of riches, for we also have Micah 6:1-8 and the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12), but one can’t preach for that long in an Episcopal church!]
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
If Only
When I was young I would sometimes play the “if only” game with my faith. “If only I were alive at the time of Jesus, my faith would be stronger. If only I could see him, I would truly believe.” Just think of the questions I could ask! “Do you really have brothers and sisters? What was your childhood like? What happened to Joseph? What’s it like being the Son of God?” And the question that Jesus apparently was asked, “What kind of sign can you give me to show that you really are the Son of God?”
That last question revealed my true insecurity. I had to face the fact that even had I been alive in the time of Jesus, my faith might not have been all that different. Jesus didn’t go around performing miracles to prove his divinity. He responded to human need. Then, as now, one had to have the eyes of faith first in order to see that what he did was divine.
And yet, there was that personal invitation: “Follow me.” Something must have been compelling about Jesus to make four fishermen immediately get out of their boats, leave livelihood and family behind, and follow him. Some writers insist that this must not have been their first encounter with Jesus. They would have the fishermen act more like us, deliberately, rationally, weighing the consequences, and then make a decision.
Jesus’ abrupt command to follow challenges that slow approach. This isn’t about deciding who to support in an upcoming election; this is an invitation from God! And only by treating it as such is the depth of faith revealed. St. Paul knew that. He castigated the notoriously factional Corinthians for claiming to be followers of various apostles. Paul rightly redirects the focus on Jesus Christ, the only one who died for them and in whose name they were baptized. (I’d love to hear this preached in a parish where people are nostalgic for BFRs – Beloved Former Rectors!) Paul and all of us are merely instruments of God, who through the grace of God point toward Jesus Christ rather than ourselves.
It’s like an image used by Thomas Merton: we are to be windows through which others see Jesus. Rarely does one focus on the window itself; rather, one looks through to what is revealed beyond. And just as a dirty window can obscure the view, so our sin can obscure the God who dwells within.
As I grew older, I realized that “if only” is not a very profitable game. Seeking proof is not the way to go. If you want to have faith, do what you would do if you did have faith, and then your faith will grow. Over time you will find that you have become a more transparent window through which the love of God shines. Even better, it will become easier to see Jesus in others. And at some point, you will realize that you have responded to that invitation: “Follow me.”
[Epiphany 3: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23.]
That last question revealed my true insecurity. I had to face the fact that even had I been alive in the time of Jesus, my faith might not have been all that different. Jesus didn’t go around performing miracles to prove his divinity. He responded to human need. Then, as now, one had to have the eyes of faith first in order to see that what he did was divine.
And yet, there was that personal invitation: “Follow me.” Something must have been compelling about Jesus to make four fishermen immediately get out of their boats, leave livelihood and family behind, and follow him. Some writers insist that this must not have been their first encounter with Jesus. They would have the fishermen act more like us, deliberately, rationally, weighing the consequences, and then make a decision.
Jesus’ abrupt command to follow challenges that slow approach. This isn’t about deciding who to support in an upcoming election; this is an invitation from God! And only by treating it as such is the depth of faith revealed. St. Paul knew that. He castigated the notoriously factional Corinthians for claiming to be followers of various apostles. Paul rightly redirects the focus on Jesus Christ, the only one who died for them and in whose name they were baptized. (I’d love to hear this preached in a parish where people are nostalgic for BFRs – Beloved Former Rectors!) Paul and all of us are merely instruments of God, who through the grace of God point toward Jesus Christ rather than ourselves.
It’s like an image used by Thomas Merton: we are to be windows through which others see Jesus. Rarely does one focus on the window itself; rather, one looks through to what is revealed beyond. And just as a dirty window can obscure the view, so our sin can obscure the God who dwells within.
As I grew older, I realized that “if only” is not a very profitable game. Seeking proof is not the way to go. If you want to have faith, do what you would do if you did have faith, and then your faith will grow. Over time you will find that you have become a more transparent window through which the love of God shines. Even better, it will become easier to see Jesus in others. And at some point, you will realize that you have responded to that invitation: “Follow me.”
[Epiphany 3: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23.]
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
God is Faithful
It’s always hard to get back in the groove after the Christmas/New Year’s break. Like Holy Week in the church, there is a flurry of preparation for extra services, attendance by people who only show up on major holidays (who are all those faces, anyway?), and the weariness that comes from staying up too late. For R and me, there’s also trying to keep up with N’s schedule when he’s home. It all shows up in the dog: she’s exhausted. And so Christmas, Epiphany, and the Baptism of Jesus have come and gone before I get around to writing another blog entry. Great subjects to write about – someday. By now we have returned to seven weeks of green “ordinary time.”
Yet even ordinary time is blessed by God. “The Lord called me before I was born,” Isaiah writes, “while I was still in my mother’s womb he named me.” Well, you may say, that’s true for a great prophet like Isaiah, but it doesn’t include the likes of us. Unfortunately, we don’t get off that easily. St. Paul, also “called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God,” extends God’s call to everyone who receives his letter: “to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.”
“God is faithful,” Paul writes; “by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” The Gospel of John gives a very literal example of that. Two disciples of John the Baptist were hanging around him one day, when a man named Jesus walked by. “Behold, the Lamb of God!” John said, and that got their attention. They took off after Jesus, who heard the commotion, turned around, and asked them what they were looking for. Too embarrassed to say “Uh, you?” they simply asked him where he was staying. He replied, “Come and see,” and they followed along. One of the disciples was Andrew, who went to get his brother Simon. Jesus took one look at Simon and gave him a new name. “You are to be called Cephas [=Peter].”
Simon Peter was lucky that his brother was looking out for him. How many people are waiting for an invitation from us to come and see Jesus? “There’s a place I go that changes my whole week, and just might change my whole life. Come and see.” God calls us; God calls everyone. It’s best to be aware of it. Then we aren’t spending our lives seeking God where God is not to be found, living lives that are not fulfilling, not being the person God knows us to be.
We can no longer follow Jesus literally, as Andrew and Peter did. The way is not so obvious. Yet it helps to remember that even those who lived in the presence of Jesus stumbled along. Even Isaiah, so sure of his call, could write: “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity.” Yet Isaiah knew that God is faithful, for he immediately added: “yet surely my cause is with the Lord, and my reward with my God.”
That’s the key, isn’t it? God is faithful. Even when I walk the other way, when I think that I cannot be the person God has known me to be since before I was born, God is still there, patiently waiting for me to return. And so I turn back. May you, too, remember the faithfulness of God and turn back. God will be there.
Epiphany 2: Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42. For those who like words, “rock” is Cephas in Aramaic and Petros (Peter) in Greek. This isn’t the last time Jesus will play on Simon’s new name.
Yet even ordinary time is blessed by God. “The Lord called me before I was born,” Isaiah writes, “while I was still in my mother’s womb he named me.” Well, you may say, that’s true for a great prophet like Isaiah, but it doesn’t include the likes of us. Unfortunately, we don’t get off that easily. St. Paul, also “called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God,” extends God’s call to everyone who receives his letter: “to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.”
“God is faithful,” Paul writes; “by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” The Gospel of John gives a very literal example of that. Two disciples of John the Baptist were hanging around him one day, when a man named Jesus walked by. “Behold, the Lamb of God!” John said, and that got their attention. They took off after Jesus, who heard the commotion, turned around, and asked them what they were looking for. Too embarrassed to say “Uh, you?” they simply asked him where he was staying. He replied, “Come and see,” and they followed along. One of the disciples was Andrew, who went to get his brother Simon. Jesus took one look at Simon and gave him a new name. “You are to be called Cephas [=Peter].”
Simon Peter was lucky that his brother was looking out for him. How many people are waiting for an invitation from us to come and see Jesus? “There’s a place I go that changes my whole week, and just might change my whole life. Come and see.” God calls us; God calls everyone. It’s best to be aware of it. Then we aren’t spending our lives seeking God where God is not to be found, living lives that are not fulfilling, not being the person God knows us to be.
We can no longer follow Jesus literally, as Andrew and Peter did. The way is not so obvious. Yet it helps to remember that even those who lived in the presence of Jesus stumbled along. Even Isaiah, so sure of his call, could write: “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity.” Yet Isaiah knew that God is faithful, for he immediately added: “yet surely my cause is with the Lord, and my reward with my God.”
That’s the key, isn’t it? God is faithful. Even when I walk the other way, when I think that I cannot be the person God has known me to be since before I was born, God is still there, patiently waiting for me to return. And so I turn back. May you, too, remember the faithfulness of God and turn back. God will be there.
Epiphany 2: Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42. For those who like words, “rock” is Cephas in Aramaic and Petros (Peter) in Greek. This isn’t the last time Jesus will play on Simon’s new name.
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