PERSEVERANCE, PERHAPS PERSISTENCE, LEADS TO PROPER DISCIPLESHIP

HAPPY REFORMATION DAY 506!!!

Yes, for 506 years the Lutheran Church has been living into what it has become today.

But wait!

There is more reforming to do and with some perseverance, Lutherans will faithfully continue to reform and transform themselves into Christ’s needed presence for the sake of our neighbor today, tomorrow, and well, tomorrow.

 

This focus on tomorrow builds on nothing less than the hope we know in the liberating resurrection of Jesus. Jesus’ act of conquering death, thus opening the way to everlasting life in the presence of God, has freed us all to faithfully serve our neighbor without needing to be concerned about whether God loves us. We have been freed from seeking worthiness in the sight of God to live a life outside of our self-consuming preeminence.

In this week’s text, John 8:31-36, Jesus speaks to a number of Jewish people who have come to believe in him, and he encourages them to persevere in the word, of him. For the sake of English economy, we usually read this passage as saying, “in my Word,” but the literal Greek might have something to offer us on this Reformation Day.

We know that the name of God, that is, Yhwh, the tetragrammaton, is not to be spoken in proper Jewish parlance. Earlier in the book of John, this practice of not saying God’s name is presented as “Logos”, “the Word” when John says, “In the beginning was the Word.” To believe “in the Word” is to believe “in God”. To believe “in Jesus” who is the son of God is to believe “in the Word.”

The use of the Logos, the Word, takes on the stature of Jesus’ more famous “I am” statements, also in John. Jesus says, “I am the bread of life”; “I am the gate”; “I am the good shepherd”; “I am the resurrection and the life”; “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” These statements echo the original “I am” statement from Exodus. There, when Moses asks God to tell him whom he should tell others has sent him, from the burning bush, the voice of God says to tell the Israelites that “I AM” has sent you.

As these “I am” statements point to the divine nature of Jesus, so John points to Jesus’ divinity using “the Word.” “If you persevere/persist/continue/remain in the Word, of me, you are truly my disciples. And you will know the Truth (here truth is also an appositive for Jesus, cf. above), and the Truth will make you free.” (v. 31, my translation)

All of this seems very involved, but, if we are to penetrate Luther’s revelation, then even I, a lowly pontiki ekklesias (church mouse), am compelled to point to the power of what it might mean to persevere “in the Word, of me.” “Persevere” carries a sense of place. The place is “in the Word”. Just as I live in my little mouse house, Jesus encourages us to persevere “in the Word, of me”. “In” seems like such a little word for such a big concept, but once we have believed “in” God, we find that it is preferable to remain “in” that presence.

Rather than being a psychological commitment, persevering “in the Word” demands a lifestyle change. Much like while dieting, one can lose weight in the short run by making a radical shift in one’s eating habits, keeping that weight off requires a new lifestyle that transforms your relationship with food. Likewise, because it is so easy to become one of the profligate prodigals, we are told to “persevere in the Word, of me”, truly becoming “disciples” of Jesus. Discipleship, therefore, causes us to live into a covenant relationship of promise. It is a lifestyle that is life-long.

On this Reformation Day, it is important to pay special attention to this “in” word. It is not only found in the Reformation Gospel passage; we also encounter it whenever saying the creed: I (or we) believe “in God”…; I (or we) believe “in Jesus Christ”…; I (or we) believe “in the Holy Spirit”…. While persevering “in the Word,” we find ourselves believing “in” the encompassing love of God’s presence, “in” the body of Christ, “in” the midst of God’s own creation.

Now we need only recognize where we live; and stay there. There are times when it feels more like running along a tight rope with the vision of what it might look like when we get to the other side, but perilous in the present place. There are also times when that sense of place is like being held in the embrace of family. True discipleship is known “in” that place where it is God’s vision that directs us, where God’s word of hope for all people empowers us, where God’s elbow leads us “in” deeper relationship with God and one another.

Oh, I could go on, but I think that you can figure out why being made free does not depend on being Abraham’s descendants, but on knowing what it means to be a child of God “IN” the Word which speaks us into being today and tomorrow. May you always know the freedom of living “IN”.

Your pal,

Nicodemus, pontiki ekklesias

POTENTATE PAYMENTS PRECIPITATE PARLANCE CONCERNING THEOPHANIC IMPRINTS AND FEALTY PROPRIETIES

or

PRINCE OF PEACE ANTICIPATES ENTRAPMENT WHILE PANHANDLING FOR PENNIES IN TEMPLE COMPOUND

Quoting Old Ben Franklin, “The only things certain in life are death and taxes”. I would like to emend this with the help of church historian Dr. Robert Handy, “What is certain in life is death, taxes, and graffiti,” and then further emend Handy’s observation by adding “coinage”. Whether you engage in procuring the ever-elusive bitcoins or hedge against inflation with the purchase of gold, all of you have your lives shaped by the iconic prospectives of currency. (There are times when it is so nice to be a mouse!) From the days of “Let George do it,” referring to giving a dollar for Pullman porter privileges on the train, to paying for priceless family moments, captured with photographic precision with your Pentax, or maybe just your phone, iconography is a major preoccupation in the world today.

In writing of missives to one another, iconography intrudes. It is difficult to go through a day without seeing an emoji conveying hyperbolic states of attitudes because apparently punctuation is no longer adequate (place emoji here). And can there be a Hallmark moment without some depiction? And don’t get me started on trademarks. (place emoji here)

All of this is to say that we live in a world of images that have the potential of becoming Idolatrous, distracting us from the fact that we are created in the image of God. Before artists started shaping images out of clay, painting images on cave walls and canvases, and revealing the inner-stone image, God shaped us in God’s own image and declared it good.

“Is it lawful to pay taxes or not?” (Matthew 22:15-22) Taxes represent the social contract we have with the governing bodies that lend order to our lives. These taxes may be oppressive. They may support agendas we do not approve. There may be expenditures on projects or people we deem underserving, and there may be graft amid the procedures of procurement, but taxes remain the financial backbone of a social contract we have with one another. Taxes fund many of the social structures on which we depend: municipal governance; school; streets; sewage treatment; maintenance of parks, recreation, and green spaces; water sampling and purification processes; garbage pick-up; building codes; legislation for lifting the rights of all people; our personal, local, state, and national protection. This social contract is good as long as the citizenry complies with the expectations of the governing body.

This, of course, is not addressing the issue that the disciples of the pharisees and Herodians were asking. Is it proper to pay taxes which are above that prescribed in Torah, the law that God has laid down for the governance of God’s own people? Is paying taxes to a government placing that government in the place of God? If one pays the tax to the empire (government), then must one also pay the tax to the temple? Is the tax paid to the temple (i.e., benevolence or mission support) actually giving to God what is God’s, or is it just the administration of Godly work? In the midst of all this giving, is there a difference between giving our lives to God and living a Godly life?

Both and … are posed to Jesus in the courtyard of the temple and are for our consideration today. (See Nickey’s Corner re Matthew 16:13-28. It feels so good to footnote myself.) There were life and death, political implications pending on that 1^st century day, but the question continues to plague us. Somehow, we need to determine under whose rule we will live. In paying taxes do we regard the governing body of our day as being the ultimate purveyor of our political reality or is there a greater justice to strive for?

Borrowing from Paul Tillich, is government or God our “ground of being”? With a more Buddhist lens, “Where do we find our center?” Then, if our “ground of being”, that centered place, reveals a greater justice to strive for, what does that justice look like? How will we go about the work of reaching that more just place? Can that place of justice be attained without a government requiring taxes?

In the world of icons, which icon will we depend on?

Will we depend on the imprint of famous dead people with their various claims?

or

Will we depend on the diverse, living body of God’s own corpus revealed in the places where weeping and gnashing of teeth against oppression and injustice surround us daily?

More importantly in today’s world, will the icon of the flag or of the cross be our “ground of being”, our center?

As a blind mouse, I find most of this dependence on pictures overwhelming. I find the dependence on image to be part of what Rod Michalko claims as “sighted people proving to other sighted people that they are sighted.” It seems to be a strange insecurity of the sighted.

(And what do you think, did Jesus give the denarius back, or did he keep it?)

“Whose picture is it?” You tell me.

(Personally, hearing God’s word for God’s people is much safer than striving to see God. Seeing God is deadly, as deadly as the cross itself, while hearing God’s voice is the foundation of relationship.)

And, just as an aside, as famous as Patrick Henry was, have you ever wondered why he never made it to our currency?

When Patrick Henry said, “Give me liberty or give me death,” was he making a claim for no laws, God’s law alone, no British rule, or a change in the governing body he wished to live under?

Your Pal,

Nicodemus, Pontiki Ekklesias*

 

*Church Mouse

PRINTING OF PARADOX PAPERS PRESENTS PERILOUS PERSPECTIVES OF PARADISE

One of the pleasures of being a church mouse and a partner in pedagogy is that, while Peter (not the disciple) was in the parish, I got to peruse sermon notes of the catechism students. It was always interesting to read their notes. Some were more focused; some you knew the parents had tried to help; and you could tell those who clearly drifted in and out of the worship service. I remember one student who had the same statement at the end of his sermon note every week. The final question to be answered was, “What was the good news you heard today?” His answer was always, “God loves me and forgives me.”

When Peter (not the disciple) had the opportunity to meet with this young man privately (well almost privately, ‘cuz I was over in the corner), Peter asked him, “I’m glad you always know that God loves you and forgives you, but do you really hear that in every sermon I give?” The young man sat silently for a few moments and then said, “I really don’t know what you are talking about most of the time. I just keep writing the same thing every week hoping it’s true.”

This week’s parable in Matthew 22:1-14 is “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to ….” I’ll explain later why it reminds me of the sermon notes of that young man.

So many times, we find that we are not listening properly with our ears. The words, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to …,” gets heard as, “The kingdom of heaven is equal to ….” We hear something more like a mathematical equation with an understandable solution on the bottom line, or maybe even an allegory (not the critter in the Florida swamps), where everything needs to line up with something else. That is not the way that parables work. Parables, like the present political climate in Israel, are complex and not always easily teased apart.

To begin with, let us understand that Jesus does not use parables to prosecute the Jewish people. He uses them to challenge the authorities of the day and the powers that prevail. This parable, in particular, promulgates a king who is not regarded with respect. Those who are first invited to the marriage feast deem the invitation as being insignificant. When they are reminded, they conspicuously disdain the invitation. Some indicate it is not as important to them as their landholdings or pursuit of business. Others respond with contempt. They replace the priority of cultural hospitality with shameful treatment, beatings, and death. The king responds to this violence with an escalation of violence. He sends his soldiers (army?) to destroy them, burn their city, and declares them unworthy of his protection and concern.

If the first part of the parable is not a prosecution of the Jewish people, then the rest of the parable is not about the gentiles. The command to gather the street people (the bad and good) into the proscenium revealed to us as the banquet hall is nothing more than a show of power and a command performance. The king is uninvolved with these guests until he espies a person without a wedding garment.

This, of course, raises the question of how others received a wedding garment and from whence that wedding garment appeared? 2 Kings 5 offers a potential explanation. In the story of Naaman and Elisha, we learn that presenting garments that have been worn by the king is an honor and a sign of favor from the king. Therefore, when Elisha refuses the king’s garments, Naaman perceives the prophet as being impudent, imprudent, and unresponsive.

For the rest of that story, you can read it for yourself. What we are left with here in Matthew is that either there seem to be many people basking in the favor of the king and one who is not, or that the planned providence of the king has not anticipated the preponderance of people to be provided for.

Into this parable which portrays “honor and shame”, power and punitive puniness, with capricious violence, we are confronted with the possibility of hospitable hospitality, “Friend, let’s get you one of my garments that will honor you and is appropriate.” Or we can hear the words presented here. “Friend how did you get in here like that? Bind him hand and foot, then throw him into the outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Indeed, the kingdom of heaven may be compared to power, capricious violence, and judgments of worthiness, but that is not the kingdom of heaven that we, as Christians aspire to. So, where is the hope? Where is the good news? Where is the subversive possibility of promised paradigmatic potentiality?

If we perceive the casting-out-place as being the place of permanent punitive imprisonment without the possibility of parole, then I cannot offer the discovery of good news here. If the casting-out-place is a place of penance, I am also challenged to be able to pronounce good news. But, if that casting-out-place in the outer darkness can place a person in the midst of God’s creation workplace and those weeping and gnashing their teeth is also the place of those who have been cast out, ignored, shunned, displaced, dispersed, dispossessed,  or otherwise purged from polite society, then maybe, just maybe, we can hear the cries of God’s people, share the tears of prejudice, join in the gnashing of teeth in the presence of injustice, and begin the process of building, living into the kingdom place of new creation peace.

“Maimonides, the 12th century Jewish philosopher and astronomer wrote, ‘The whole object of prophets is to declare that a limit is set to human reason where it must halt.’…Human reason, Maimonides is arguing, can only take us so far. Then, at that point, holy irrationality must…take us beyond it. It takes us beyond a profit driven world in which only those who work have the right to eat.’” (The Time is Now, Joan Chittister, 2019) It takes us beyond the parable of the marriage feast through a wormhole in the time fabric of this narrative into the place where the dross of society (those wearing inappropriate apparel) dwell—into the place of holy, irrational, new creation community. This then may be the revealed kingdom of heaven—that place where we know that God loves us and we know God’s grace, God’s new creation, sustains us, just like that catechism student from years ago wrote each week.

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse  

PROPERTY SPECULATOR PRESSES PROSECUTION OF PROTESTORS’ COMPLAINT OVER PENDING PROCEDURAL PROCURMENT PAYMENT PRACTICES

Why were the chief priest and the pharisees upset at the end of Matthew 21:33-46 and we are not?

If the Scriptures are the living word of God, then why do we continue to make the Bible a history book?

Is it possible to see ourselves today in this story?

Might we be the workers in the vineyard?

Or might we be the slaves sent to receive the fruit from the vineyard?

So many questions, so little space to explore them.

Peter (not the disciple) and the church council of a declining congregation he once served went on retreat to plan a new evangelism and membership program. Peter returned profoundly moved and reported that one question pivoted the conversation. When the council had been ready to leave, one person in the group had asked, “The work we have done is really good, but when are we going to have time to talk about serving the people God is sending us?”

Peter (not the disciple) has talked about this with me late into many nights, and he still reminds me how everyone put down their bags and another pot of coffee was made. They all pulled out their notepads and together discussed who they thought that God had sent them to serve and what a ministry with those people might look like. That conversation reshaped the ministry of that congregation.

Peter opines often that congregations over-plan who they want to invite to their party considering how to generate greater giving, develop the children’s Sunday School environments and curricula, devise projects for the youth to raise enough money to finance trips for mission projects and the national youth gathering, plan worship, and ensure the piano and organ are in good repair and tuned. He knows these are important, but he regrets how rarely conversations involve, “Who are the people God is sending us and how are we serving them?”

In most congregations we are far too involved in picking, planning, and preparing for how we choose to serve rather than welcoming and responding to whomever God presents to us at our doors.  In vineyards of abundance, we work hard at devising how we are going to disburse the plentitude of God’s provision among ourselves and to those whom we choose while those who do pound on the door are dismissed, discouraged, and deterred. They are hindered and dissuaded.

This week’s parable presents the perfect example. It is part of a long exchange in the temple courtyard. Power within the Jewish community at the beginning of the 1^st century is derived from Roman occupation, fear, and death. In response, Jesus challenges those who presume to wield power (the chief priests, the scribes, the pharisees, and elders). In turn, they ask Jesus by what authority he does the things he does and teaches the teachings he teaches.

As was his way, Jesus uses a parable. He tells them of a vineyard which has been planted and the hedge against predators and the world has been set. The wine press is dug. The watch tower is built. While the owner is away the workers have continued to care for the vineyard. Now the fruit of the vineyard is ready to be shared.

Those listening heard the parable in the context of Roman empire. They judged the merits of this parable in a way that reinforced the empirical political reality of their day. “Put those wretched people to a wretched death” seems appropriate, justified, and fair even when they presume the householder to be God and the vineyard is creation fully ready for occupation. Those who work the land anticipate paying tribute to their lord. We are tempted to hear the parable as the chief priests and the pharisees heard it many years ago substituting sharecropping or paying rent in lieu of tribute.

But how are we to hear and understand this parable today?

Parables give permission to perceive the possibility of a potential world, the world we do not know yet, but could. Parables present the possibility of taking responsibility, making penance, and reparations for past destructive living patterns. But, if people are not able to imagine a world beyond the contextual box they are living in, then portentous potentiality is implausible if not impossible.

As Jesus was speaking to the institutional power brokers of his time, so Jesus continues to speak to the institutional power brokers of our time. So, we need to place ourselves in the context of this parable. Maybe Jesus is speaking to our church leadership: our bishops, our pastors, and our councils, and maybe Jesus is speaking to our local, state, and national governance. Maybe Jesus is speaking of the Vineyard in which we live.

In this parable we hear, in my translation, “When the landowner sent his slaves to receive the fruit of the vineyard, the workers of the land beat, killed, and stoned them. When the landowner sent more slaves, they did the same. When the landowner sent his son, the workers of the land saw a way to keep all the fruits of the vineyard to themselves and so they threw the son of the landowner out of the vineyard and killed him. What will the lord of the vineyard do when he comes?”

This is the place where the opportunity for penance is possible. Instead of perceiving themselves as part and parcel of the problem, recognizing their compulsion for hoarding, piling up the produce of the vineyard and withholding it from the people God presents to receive the fruits of the vineyard, the workers of the land abuse, kill, and shoot those deserving of provident provisioning.

God has been sending many to the hedges of our (congregational) vineyards, and we continue to find ways of “beating, killing, and stoning” those who would partake of our cornucopia. Power wishes to preserve power and is judged by its decision. If you think that the workers of the land deserve to be thrown out of the vineyard, then the vineyard will be taken away from you and given to people who will share the fruits of the vineyard with those God sends.

But if you can imagine that the vineyard is an opportunity to share the providing of God’s profligate planting, then another ending presents itself. “And to the workers of the land in the vineyard, God sent the poor and they were rebuffed as not being industrious enough to share in the bounty of the land. God sent the broken families crying, ‘Black Lives Matter’, and the workers of the vineyard responded with, ‘Blue Lives Matter’ and provided military might to the police forces to silence the protest. God sent the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, and they killed them in their gathering places and legislated laws that took away their rights. God sent people living with disabilities, and they made laws that appeared to recognize their needs but did not include a process to enforce them or prosecute. God sent many more people to the margins of the hedge seeking the bounty of God’s vineyard, and the purveyors of power prevented them from entering the vineyard by imprisoning them, paroling them to lives of penury, and deporting them. God presented the people who had first propagated this paradisical vineyard, and the purveyors of power pranked them and impoverished them and pronounced them less deserving and profligate, undeserving of the vineyard’s providence. And by their judgments they were judged.”

The first hearers of this parable had the opportunity to repent and repair their relationship with God’s people but chose a punitive punishment leading to prompt expulsion. Later in Matthew we will hear Jesus tell Peter (the disciple) that those who live by the sword will also die by the sword. In this parable we are presented with a like presumption.

Instead of punitive posturing wielded by the powerful over the powerless, maybe we should try penance and hear those words of pardon, “And again, after supper, Jesus took the cup, filled with the fruits of the vineyard, gave thanks, and blessed it, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you and all people for the forgiveness of sins. Share this in remembrance of me.’”

We have not been given the vineyard with rent to pay but an abundance to share. We have the power to change the pronounced judgment. Share the bounty of the vineyard. It’s good news! Thanks be to God!

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse

PRIESTS POSE PROBLEM OF PROPHET PRACTICING PEDAGOGY WITHOUT PROPER PERMISSION

How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs?

Have you ever noticed that how we tell our stories is as important as the story itself? There are times when we tell our stories in chronological order, and then there are other times when we tell our stories in the order of importance. When we tell our story in the order of importance, we often start at a point where what we think important is about to happen and then discover that there is information from the past that needs to be included because the information from the past influences the way we understand our present.

When this happens, the storyteller perambulates through the time of present and past, and maybe projects the possibilities of pending predicaments if the present passage of postures and positions should be prolonged. This storytelling style can be pendulous and ponderous without positive direction until the end and requires patience. When the story’s point is near, it finally takes shape. Then those “But before that …” or reflections of “My papa’s papa always used to say …” all coalesce into predictable patterns of prescient possibility.

So it is, during these post-Holy Cross days in September, we have heard the prediction of Jesus’ crucifixion even while knowing that the humiliation of the cross is already passed. The deed is already done, and the consequence of the deed has revealed the resurrection promise of paradise possibility. So, this week, through Matthew 21:23-32, we enter a time of proleptic past Passion Week anticipating a perspective of past pregnancy and the birth of something new. We are now reminded of the presumptive protocols that have led to parallel paroxysms presaging a need for crucifixion and resurrection—forgiveness of sin.

During these post-Holy Cross days in September, we do not read of the great entry into Jerusalem; we do not read of Jesus entering the temple, clearing the Temple courtyard of money changers and the sellers of sacrificial animals. We do not see Jesus retiring to Bethany (house of sorrows), and then, returning in the morning for figs from the fig tree that bears only leaves and then cursing the fig tree which seems harsh unless one remembers that this tree, the variety known as the tree of knowledge of good and evil, previously has been held responsible for human sin. (Put that in your cookpot hat, Johnny Appleseed.)

We do not read that the thing that impedes our personal and public relationship with God and God’s people and what true life can be, presto! withers before our eyes. The fruit containing the knowledge of good and evil (a kind of wisdom), shifts our focus to the other tree in the garden, the tree of life, and we receive the fruit from the cross, “The body and blood of Christ, shed for you and all people”. The curse that comes to us through the fig tree is expunged by the true fruit on the cross/tree.

When Peter (not the disciple) was translating Hebrew (something that seems beyond me), I would help him with his translations by reading from the Septuagint, the Old Testament in Greek. Greek was my limit. When Peter got to translating the forbidden tree in the garden, he read tree, but in the Septuagint, the word was fig tree.

Ironically, or maybe not, the Greek word “psuche” (psoo-khay') that is oftentimes translated as “soul” (I prefer, “true life”) is pronounced almost the same as “suke” (soo-kay'), the Greek word for fig tree. The semblance of their pronunciation links the story of the fig tree to our eyes being opened to the pain of the world when Adam and Eve eat the fig from the tree containing the knowledge of good and evil. That eye-opening panorama causes the pious bliss of primal innocence to vanish, propelling humanity from the paradisical presence of God, the Garden of Eden.

But narratively speaking, before the “suke” (fig tree) can be left behind and a “psuche” (true life) can be revealed, Jesus curses the curse so that no one will eat of the curse again. Jesus curses the curse of being locked in the prison of history promoting the possibility of a pregnant new life future.

Following the work of curse cursing, Jesus goes into the temple courtyard and teaches. The priests and the elders come and question his authority. They ask, “By what authority are you doing these things and who gave you this authority?”

Jesus’ response is somewhat challenging because he responds with one of those loaded questions like, “Have you stopped punitively pounding on the prophet?” Jesus makes his answer conditional on the priests’ and elders’ answer to, “Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?”

In the world of “psuche/suke” separation, Jesus’ question presents problems, but in the world of the curse being cursed, the “psuche/suke” postulation presents the potential for full partnership again. The chasm between God and God’s people narrows, and paradise words of reconciliation are not far away. “Both,” might have been the better answer for the priests and the elders to offer, but they act out of fear and therefore claim ignorance.

In the same way, the parable of the man with two sons presents the problem of “which son did the will of his papa?” The people answer in the context of merit. After all, what is important is the work the children do. The first son does the work: he does the will of his papa, never mind his impertinence and disrespect. If the world of merit prevails, the second son is just out of luck. But, in the world of the curse being cursed, we can say that neither of the sons did the will of the papa. And yet, papa continues to love them both.

Just like you cannot un-ring a bell once it has been rung, humanity cannot un-eat the fig. Not even mice can do that. But God can choose to lift the ban against eating figs. God has the power to remove the tree and its fruit from being the divisive wedge it has become.

No wonder then, when living in the kingdom where the curse is being cursed, it is the tax collectors and the prostitutes who saw John coming in the way of righteousness and believed. They did not pause or peruse and pensively perambulate, they promenaded, prancing and dancing, their way right into the kingdom of heaven. In the new world of repentance and repaired relationship, the cursed find in the wilderness of righteousness collaborative companionship, sharing labor and bread of “psuche”, true life. (Have you noticed that true life begins with P?)

As we come to this text this week expecting fruit for the day, we too are caught up in the parallel paroxysms of Jesus’ authority in our lives. Do we wish to live in a world of wisdom, knowledge of good and evil, or will we take the fruit from the tree of life?

How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs? 

None, if there are only leaves on the tree, and it is not the season for figs. Curses! Foiled again!

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse 

Pining for Parity While Striving for Principled Performance in Produce Product Production

There is within the text this week a macabre fascination concerning the economy of heaven. Don’t believe my mousy word alone; check out almost any commentary dealing with Matthew 20:1-16, the parable of working in the vineyard. 

Each time this pericope comes around, we hear about the generous landowner, the grumbling workers, and the parity in payments. Yet, there is an undercurrent to the text that feels much more like Terry Southern’s “The Magic Christian”, a satirical novel in which the protagonist exhibits extreme generosity as a means of demonstrating the degradation and greed of humanity and the extent to which people will go to receive his largesse. It is a caustic critique of mid-20th century American culture and economic disparity. 

What if, instead of being the magnanimous benefactor, the landowner is the power of Rome? Instead of showering plenty on all, this parable addresses a system of intentional suffering, controlling the world through cereal and circus? Instead of being generous to all, the landowner is demonstrating capricious favoritism? Or, that he is trying to dishearten the workers thereby teaching a lesson of binding arbitration? What if, instead of being a model of “heavenly economics”, this parable illustrates a particularly perverse paradigm of “carrot and stick” punitive psychology? (Did you notice how I sneaked the silent p of psychology into this paragraph?) 

I realize that what I am proposing presents a much more profane proposition than the customary commentary, but I believe that there is something here much like a yummily tempting tidbit of bacon holding potential death and perdition in the center of a trap. Parables are not meant to be parsed in a way that limits the peripherals. Parables are presented for expanding our awareness and perceptions that deeply perplex and profoundly pressure perceived parameters of our experience. 

Let me begin by saying that we are not the first people to live in a world of partisan politics. During the 1st century CE, partisan politics were pointedly Roman. If the political proposition did not put the power of Rome in prominence, that is, place Roman concerns as a priority, then the proposition was passed over. Rome controlled the land, and the presiding landowner was the emperor. 

This parable calls us then to first determine whose land is it? Is it one or the other, or can it be both and…. 

Then there are the workers of the vineyard. Who are they? Are we the workers? If so, then to what group do we belong? Or are we all of the workers? 

In a recent conversation Peter, not the disciple, had with some people who were working for racial equity and inclusion, he realized how late he was coming to the table. I overheard his fervor and embarrassment at his lack of knowledge and awareness of the situations being discussed, leading him to apologize. In response, the convenor of the conversation said, “Don’t apologize for coming late to the table, that place was vacant, and we have more than enough room for everyone and enough work to do. Welcome.” 

I know it felt good to be welcomed, but Peter wanted to believe that he was one of the workers who started early in the morning. He was embarrassed to think that he could not understand the need for the work in the first place. And yet, is that not the circumstance of life? Do we not join more work than we initiate? So where do we fall in the telling of this parable? 

Don’t we each think we are the ones moving over, making room for others, rather than the ones who are accommodated? How does this parable change when we can see ourselves as those who come to the vineyard at the eleventh hour? 

What happens to this parable when we think of Jesus as being the one who comes to invite us into the vineyard throughout the day? What if this parable is a subversive Jesus who continues to work under the radar, so-to-speak, exploiting the plans of power in a way that promotes well-being despite the perilous plans of Roman rule. 

Is it possible for us to ponder all these propositions simultaneously and then hear Christ’s gracious welcome of egalitarian parity? It might be a stretch for us to celebrate a world where the last to work gets paid a full day’s wage, regarded as equal to those who have worked all day, but it might be a longer stretch to think that the worker at the eleventh hour is equal to the landowner. 

Yes, there is something here that creates a real sense of dis-ease when a stratified kingdom of heaven is presented. It feels a little like living a life of subjective obligation. One lives with an obligation to the landowner, the overseer, the social classes they come from, and a fear that one lives by the largesse of a person who may suddenly change his/her decision or behavior. There is a tenuousness within the text that I find uncertain and disturbing. 

In this heavenly world view of egalitarian treatment lies a serpent who tempts us to live within imperial structure begging for daily sustenance. We hear, “Give us each day our daily bread,” and accede to living the life of permanent penury with enough to get by on but not enough to thrive. The daily wage continues to give wealth to the landowner and, by degree, those who administer the pensions of the proud and privileged property owners. Even if the property owner is a benevolent proctor, the place of subservience portends a ponderous prison. 

So, where is the good news? I am not sure that it is in the philanthropic passion of the landowner nor the persistent going to the marketplace for workers. I think that the good news is found in the One who works with us, alongside us, and among us in the vineyard receiving enough for the day and a promised hope for a propitious tomorrow. 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse

PETER’S PEEVISH PARSIMONY PROMPTS PENSIVE PRELIMINARY FOR COMPUTING PENITENTIAL PARDONS

Nicodemus, Statistician, here. 

I’m just marveling at the beauty of Excel from Microsoft. It makes keeping track of all those who have sinned against me so easy. Yes, I would hazard to say that we love our Excel sheets with its wonderful way to keep track of those detailed hurts and micro aggressions so that we can relive them over-and-over-and-over again. It is so luscious to taste the hurt and savor the planned retribution. Excel really helps to keep all of those hurts alive and real, raising the pressure point.

Don’t get me wrong, I know Matthew 18:21-35; I know that I need to forgive those sins, and I do. I have even chosen to be generous. Instead of the lower limit of seventy-seven, I have chosen to be magnanimous and interpret the limit as being seventy times seven, making it four hundred and ninety. Nicander is now up to 408; Bernice 470’ Nicholas, maybe my favorite sibling, is at 349; Nicole, still cute as a pinky, 222; and Eunice, the most opinionated of us all, is at 489. I can’t wait for the time when I don’t have to continue this program of forgive-forgive-forgive.

It's not that I harbor any great hostility towards any of my sibs, but really, they need to be held accountable for some of the things they have done, and my Excel sheet really helps me remember each detail over the years. I really do love my statistics.

For instance, here is the time that Nicander slipped into my room while I was sleeping and put my paw into a pan of lukewarm water. Suddenly, my bladder let go, and I peed in my bed. It was a mess. It wasn’t just the mess, but the humiliation (I was well past bed wetting days), and the chore of washing my linens, remaking my bed, and the laughter of everybody. They thought it was funny. I was not amused.

Then there was my 11^th birthday present. I was given what I thought was the largest block of cheese ever.  I was overwhelmed and promised to share it with everybody there only to discover that it was just a thin veneer of some well-aged Swiss melted over LEGO bricks.

This is the time Nicholas took the set screws out of the doorknob to my room so when I ran up to change my clothes before everyone went out for pizza, the doorknob fell off in my hand when I tried to come out. And everyone went to Pizza Hut without me because, “We thought you were being anti-social.” As if.

Here is the time that Eunice and I got into a squabble over who was to wipe the dishes, and she snapped me with the towel. When I chased after her she pulled the door half-closed so that I ran into the edge of the door and got a concussion. Okay, I remember I put peanut butter and jelly in her shoes for that. I think I was really clever because, in return, I took the in-soles out first and then put them in after smearing the peanut butter and jelly. Her feet were fully in before the stuff squooshed out, and she couldn’t get the ants to leave her alone for weeks.

I mean, without my Excel sheet I might have forgotten some of these things. See here? This was the time I had gotten my blow-up kiddy pool with the great air wall bumpers. It was so wonderful to lay in the pool with my head on the air cushion pillowed rim and dream of what it would be like to be an only child. Then Bernice poked it with her fingernail file, and the air whooshed out, and the water ran all over the yard, and I was left with a soggy spot in the yard and no place to relax. Okay it was in the middle of the tent the girls had planned to play in that afternoon, but after all, I was the oldest and entitled to some quiet time by myself, wasn’t I?

Yes, I believe that Peter (the disciple) has the right idea and asks the right question, “How many times must we forgive?” What? There’s more? You mean I have to read on?

Oh yeah, there’s that unjust servant thing, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I have rarely sinned against anyone. Certainly, I have not accrued any debt that can’t be paid off in the next month. I certainly would not be forced into involuntary servitude because of risky financial investments. Although there are some interesting issues that provide for debt resolution in this passage, those might be better addressed another time.

Enough is enough. It is time to fess up. I really love my brothers and sisters and have forgiven those slights against me. I also hope that they have forgiven me. I know that I was the perfect brother to them all, but still ….

I know that this passage in Matthew is connected to earlier texts. I have also read the parable that responds to Peter’s (the disciple) question including the last line of this passage, “So my heavenly father will also do to every one of you if you do not forgive your brother or your sister from your heart.”

It is time to recognize that we all live in that wonderful world of simul justus et pecator (simultaneously saint and sinner), that is, always justified by Christ and in a state of grace while always needing to be forgiven and restored by grace. If God is willing to hold us in this relationship of undeserved love and forgiveness, then can we refuse to share that love and forgiveness with those around us?

But this relationship of forgiveness we are called to live out challenges us greatly. We love our spreadsheets, and the use of these spreadsheets seems to be on the rise. We need only read the newspaper or listen to the news to understand how much we love our spreadsheets.

We are so embroiled in the hot mess of finger pointing, blame game politics that we have lost our way to that place of cooperative collaboration. There is no longer space for forgiveness and reconciliation; everyone wants only to get even. Instead of seeking peaceful propitiation, we aspire to be “paragons of the paperclips”, bean-counting petty people, seeking points in a pointless system. We assume pusillanimous postures of proportional privilege putting the onus of our body politic on the peons in poverty for the problems of our world.

We pray the words of the Lord’s prayer without listening to them, “Forgive our debts as we forgive those who are indebted to us”, or, in more familiar parlance, “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us”, or, for some, “trespasses”. We are keen to plea for our own forgiveness and state that we live by grace alone, but we are particularly penny-pinching when it comes to forgiving those who sin against us. Yes, we love our spreadsheets, but God forgives even that when we in pious penitence cry out for relief, “Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil.”

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse AND Statistician

Need for Advocacy

Matthew introduces images for the body of Christ in chapter 17 and, specifically, what the healthy body of Christ looks like. We are told not to be a stumbling block for the body of Christ but participate in a way that brings health and good will to the world. For this reason, when parts of the body of Christ cause stumbling, we are encouraged to cut them off. It is better to enter baptismal new life, maimed (without hand, foot, eye, etc.), than to burn in the perpetual pyres of Gehenna, the garbage dump.

In the case of a flock of sheep, the body of Christ is not able to know wholeness without the hundred being present. The shepherd will leave the incomplete 99 and, in order to find wholeness, will search for the 1 that is lost.

This week in Matthew 18:15-20, we are told that reconciliation is necessary for the body of Christ to know wholeness and health. For effective reconciliation, several things need to happen.

(1) One must claim one’s injury/wrong as one’s own and then carry that injury/wrong to the person who has committed the injury/wrong.

(2) The injuring party needs to hear and understand how s/he has injured/wronged the other person.

(3) If reconciliation doesn’t result, others are to be included to acknowledge that the person who is injured/wronged has tried to reach reconciliation.

(4) If reconciliation does not result, bring the injury/wrong before the CHURCH.

(5) If the injuring party refuses to reconcile, s/he is to be cast out, cut off, thrown into the burning fire of the garbage dump.

(6) Lastly, seeking always to know the wholeness and health of the body of Christ, we are to seek the one who is lost (cast out).

This, of course, leads to the question of, “How many times must we go through this process? That is, how many times must we forgive?” That is next week’s problem.

What we need to remember in the midst of this process is that “what we bind is bound on earth and in heaven, and what we loose is loosed on earth and in heaven. Do we withhold, bind, the gospel and punish? Or do we share, loose, what is gospel on the world?

Can we follow Jesus’ paraphrase in Luke of Isaiah’s instructions: bring good news to the poor, release the captive, bring sight to the blind, let the oppressed go free, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (jubilee)? And while we ponder our promulgation of policies and posture, let us always remember that Christ is there among us cheering us on to know the power of his justifying reconciliation.

The projected plan seems very nice and tidy until one tries to practice healthy reconciliation. For instance, is it right for the church to equate ordination with possessing a driver license? Therefore, I offer this bit of doggerel to demonstrate, not a satisfactory resolution, but the frustration of recalcitrance and the need for continued, persistent advocacy for oneself and one’s neighbor.

“For Christ’s sake, forgive me please.

Let me up from bended knees.

I spoke some slights; I didn’t know.

You think I’ll burn in Hell below.

I just misspoke, a little thing,

A trifling quip, not meant to sting.

But truth; and so, now let me say,

‘Toughen up! It’s the worldly way.’”

 

Bruised, dismissed, I returned home,

Feeling like a garden gnome

Of plastic visage, hardened shell,

Cored, empty, like the wishing well.

Wishing I would stay away

Not speaking what I had to say

Of my issue or the laws

That support my rights and cause.

 

Determined, I went again.

This time I engaged two friends

To be witnesses of my plea:

For rights and freedom, liberty;

To get a job; not reproved

For special needs; and then removed

From the job I just acquired,

Rebuffed and cursed, no longer hired.

 

“I thought you had it,” one friend said.

“And then he cut you, cut you dead.

He raved and shouted, ‘Strong-arm me?

With two and you that makes it three.

Did you come to play the hob?

I know you’d like to have the job.

I’d like to have my business thrive

As well! That’s why you need to drive.’”

 

Shamed, broken, left in the lurch,

I tried once more in gathered church,

To make one more plea, appeal.

I spoke with passion and with zeal

Of talents, gifts, Holy Call,

Of God’s blessed people, one and all.

I spoke until my heart would break.

We’re here together for Christ’s sake.

 

Though the boss had understood,

His heart was stone, petrified wood.

“As leader you have vision,

Of Christ’s leading and his mission.

I know that you can Zoom and sing.

Indeed, you can do many things.

As problem solver, you do thrive;

But alas, son, you cannot drive.

 

“And so, I care not a jot

If you can do the job or not.

I do not care if you need

accommodation to succeed

Or if the law accuse me.

The facts ‘fore us shine so clearly

Amid this shuck and jive.

Alas, dear mouse, you cannot drive.”

 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse

 

DOUBLE PLEASURE, DOUBLE PHUN

Peter and I had some heavy conversation this week about Matthew 16:13-28.

When did the driver know that the pavement was angry? At the crossroads.

Have you ever noticed that there is a mess in Messiah?

Do you think that Jesus is building the Church on Peter (Greek petros, English stone/rock) because he is a foundation stone or because he is so dense?

Or can you see the blockbuster movie here? “Rocky,” the prequel!

How is it that when things seem to be going so well, they can so quickly go horribly wrong?

When Jesus demands that his disciples take up their cross and follow, do you think it means crucifixion or resurrection?

What are angels anyway? What is glory?

What does Jesus’ kingdom look like?
 

In a world of expedited trials, food insecurity, banned books, and denial of history comes this perplexing proposition of premature propitiation. Within it is a presentiment of presumed punitive penalty and a paradisical pronouncement. (Don’t you love the power of P?)
We know Matthew is leading us to the Mount of Transfiguration, but is that the kingdom Jesus refers to this week? (Oh, the places the mind goes.)

There are clearly more things to heaven and earth than my poor little mouse brain can entertain, so I am going to simply state my speculative surmises. (See what I did there using sibilant alliteration? It is not the power of P, but it has its slithering space, I think.)

Do you remember the DoubleMint twins and the jingle of, “Double your pleasure, double your fun, with double good, double good, DoubleMint gum.  It is two, two mints in one”?
Entering this conversation with Scripture, I find it helpful to remember those words from Deuteronomy 30: “I have set before you, life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God.” (God is double-good; oh, but God is trinitarian. God must be triple-good, maybe like, Trident gum?)

When Jesus begins to show the disciples that he will undergo suffering and then be crucified, we, with the disciples, hear it as a prophecy of what is to come. This fits the narrative of Matthew’s Gospel, but the reality is Jesus was crucified at least two generations before Matthew is writing. Moreover, I think Jesus is speaking not so much as “both … and”, one and another, but as “both and …”. Both cross-bearing (not an angry, steel ball) and self-denial (not the river in Egypt), Jesus’ commands, present us with “both and …” thinking.

Over the years people have thought (and I hear them often say), “Such-and-such is my cross to bear.” When they suffer, they assume it is the cross Jesus has commanded them to take up. This can lead them to what Peter tells me is the false supposition that their suffering is like Jesus’ suffering and their cross to bear is like Jesus’ cross of death.

But Jesus suffers for us. Jesus dies for us. There is nothing particularly salvific in our suffering, whether by mice or people. We do not die on the cross of Good Friday in order to save anyone. The job of Savior is not ours. That job has already been taken, and we rejoice in the fact that we do not have to, indeed cannot, suffer and die for anyone.

It is not the burdensome cross of death we are to take up because, in the words of Paul, “Christ died once, for all.” Jesus wants us to take up the cross of resurrection living. Without the resurrection on Easter Sunday, Good Friday, after all, is meaningless. It is two, two crosses in one, and ….
 

Peter had me pretty confused for a time, but I think I have finally caught on. There is also a disturbing thread of theology that speaks of denying oneself as a kind of erasure (like losing one’s tail). Peter says, in fact, self-denial results through declaring to the world who and whose we are. This denial of self does not mean that we somehow disappear.

Rather, self-interest that knows who and whose we are allows Christ-centered, resurrection, communitarian living. It is not our own sinful self that is important but our self in Christ that makes the difference. In self-denial we live a life of awareness (wokeness?) and personal development engaging all the issues of our world while acknowledging and depending on Jesus’ leading and salvific promise. We are saint and sinner, two in one, and ….

The persistent search for building up “me” diminishes the importance of Christ, and therefore I lose the very life I am seeking. When I lose my self-identity and assume the identity of one living in Christ, I gain everything. This is the paradox of faith. We live as valued individuals in Christian community, and yet our wholeness cannot come from ourselves but only from Christ. (Who says one can’t win by losing?)

While living this life of self-denial, we are not erased but enhanced. We are raised up through the waters of baptism into the resurrection kingdom world to work for justice in word and deed, advocating for ourselves and our neighbors. All this is done, not to be justified in Christ, but because by grace, in faith, through Christ alone we are justified. In this relationship of kingdom justice, we proclaim our identity in Christ and our place in the body of Christ. In taking up the cross of resurrection living, we take up our cross of death and die to death. If we die to death, we enter into resurrection.
 

I asked Peter, “So how do we live out this paradox?” He told me that we express our two, two identities in one, and… when we lift the hope-filled vision of a world that acknowledges both Jesus as Messiah and the model he gives us for living a Godly life. In this way, we join the role of messenger (Greek, angellos) while Jesus comes with angels in his glory, bringing his kingdom now, and we are repaid for all that we do and have done. This potential judgment of doom hangs over us like the sword of Damocles (or the butcher knife of the farmer’s wife), until we recognize that Jesus’ suffering and death is our justifying sentence. We are judged in grace. Simultaneously, we claim God’s eschatological kingdom of wholeness to come. This too is a two, two in one and ….

 
Yes, I know it is a hot mess (just like when I was in that kitchen). It can ultimately only be reconciled by the Messiah who is and is to come. Yet, our hot mess of messy life is a wonderful mysterious mess of living and loving today and tomorrow, of forgiveness and foresight for today and the future, of claiming and naming who and whose we are. It is not found in personal achievement, in a self-interested overpowering Rome through aggression and warfare, but a more lasting proposal of systemic change.

 
Peter (the disciple) gets it right when he claims Jesus as the son of the living God, but he lacks the “two in one and …” understanding of Jesus’ presence and therefore desires a Messiah of power. Because Peter lacks the narrative ability of knowing the reality of the resurrection, we are invited to examine our own messianic desires, living in, but not of, the world.

Through this examination, we are given license to see ourselves mirrored in history while proclaiming hope for the future—recognizing our proclivity for violent demonstrations of baseless fearful reactions now liberated by the cross of resurrection living to turn to peaceful resolution. Not always being able to embrace the present and a hope-filled future, we sometimes react fearfully and exercise authority by using pejorative power thus limiting the rights of others. The violent acts of lynching and political mistrust in the present cannot bring trust and reliance on the one who brings the kingdom of wholeness and peace.

 
Understanding God’s continued activity in the world, we can say there are some standing here today who can see the glory of that potential kingdom he has shown us for life here and now, and, at the same time, the possibility of wholeness presence of the life to come—that we and our descendants might not just survive, but thrive, loving God, carrying our cross of resurrection life and hope, the ultimate “both and …”.

 

Your pal, Nicodemus

Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, Mouse