Putting Down Roots In Times of Exile

 

From Daniel Erlander's Manna and Mercy

After a year filled with a lot of transitions for my family, it's finally time to put down roots. One year ago, my wife had just begun cancer treatments, and we had just moved across the state to Bay City, Michigan, where I accepted a call as the pastor of Messiah Lutheran Church. My kids were starting at four new schools, and I was just learning my way around. One year later, Laura has finished her cancer treatments, the kids are settling into our community nicely, and yesterday, I signed a stack of paperwork to close on a house here in Bay City. For the first time in 21 years of marriage, we're homeowners. Thanks be to God!

Yet, it must be said, now is a time of turmoil. A new presidential administration has caused a lot of shake-ups around the world. Many federal workers are suddenly without jobs. Even some well-regarded faith-based nonprofits, including Global Refuge (formerly Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service), and Lutheran Social Services, are finding their grants suddenly defunded, and their work called into question as "illegal."  Many around the world who depended on US funds for food and medicine are going without. We don't yet know the impact new trade policies will have on the price of daily goods for U.S. families. And climate change continues to cause unpredictable weather and the promise of natural disasters to come. 

I've been drawn in this time to the middle chapters of the book of Jeremiah. Jeremiah lived in times of cataclysmic change in his home country of Judah. The Babylonian army was on the march, ready to capture Jerusalem and deport many of Judah's citizens to a foreign land. The "Exile" was close at hand. Jerusalem was under siege. Jeremiah had been thrown into prison for prophesying an uncomfortable truth to the rulers of Judah: that the nation would indeed be captured and deported to Babylon, and that this was God's will. 

Yet with the Babylonians at the very gates, and the world as he knew it coming to an end, Jeremiah was instructed by God to buy a local field from his cousin. He didn't know when, or if, he would ever see this field, but Jeremiah weighed out the silver and bought it anyway, as a sign that "fields shall be bought again in this land of which you are saying, 'it is a desolation...'" (Jeremiah 32:43). Earlier in the book, Jeremiah instructs the people of Judah in exile to "build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce...seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your own welfare." (Jeremiah 29:5, 7). It's in the context of exile and an and to Judah's world that we get the well-known "graduation card" verse: "For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for good and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." (Jeremiah 29:11). 

As you read the Bible, you discover a rather strange truth: the world has ended many times. At least from the perspective of God's people, inasmuch as it affects their lives, there are half a dozen major "endings," which cause God's people to feel as though life can't possibly go on, and yet it does. Time after time, it seems like God can'tt possibly be with them in this time of turmoil; this time of exile. And yet God is. Maybe that's precisely why God chose the people of Israel, rather than some vast military empire with only victory and prosperity in their wake: because the world needs to know how to be faithful when your world ends. God's advice almost every time is to go ahead and put down roots. Keep living faithfully. Keep making your community a better place. To use a favorite word of John of Patmos, author of Revelation, "endure." 

There are some reading this who may feel just fine about the state of our country and world. Though if they are reading from a perspective of Christian faith, I would hope they would at least be thinking compassionately about their neighbors, for whom this is a very tense time. Still, regardless of whether your moment of exile is now, or some time in the future, God's guidance is the same: go ahead and buy the field. Invest in the future. Become an active part of whatever comes next, for the sake of your neighbors, who will need you, and for the sake of Christ, who comes to you in the hungry, the naked, the imprisoned and the sick. In times of exile, put down roots and stay a while. God will stick with you.  

Advent Study: Luke 22

 

Jesus eats the Passover meal with his disciples, in an "upper room" or "guest room," which, interestingly, is the same Greek word translated as "inn" in the Christmas story. The same room that was too small to accommodate the birth and care of the infant Jesus, now holds a gift of infinite value. Jesus says, "this is my body, which is given for you...this cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood." By the end of the chapter, Jesus has already been arrested. In tomorrow's chapter, he will die.

In these closing days of Advent, I'm still trying to make space in my heart--to prepare a guest room--for the whole story of the Messiah. The same God who becomes flesh and blood, offers that flesh and blood for our benefit. The same baby who laid in a feed trough, feeds us with spiritual food which heals our wounded souls. They are connected, cradle and cross. That's not a new insight, by any means. But it strikes me especially deeply this time of year, as, one could argue, our culture breaks into a full sprint running away from its pain, and into festive lights, foods, gifts, and a cornucopia of numbing distractions. 

Times of celebration are a blessed and good thing. Goodness knows I plan to partake with my wife and four kids, and it will be beautiful. But we have to let ourselves also feel what pain may come--to acknowledge it as a guest, and trust that it is redeemed by the Christ Child--the one who finally did make his way into the "inn," the "guest room"--and who there offered his flesh and blood to redeem us. 

If you don't think there was any pain, or any blood, in that tiny little house in Bethlehem, then you have not attended any births. 

And if you don't think there is any pain or blood found in the sanctuary on Christmas Eve, then you'll have to tune out the last twenty minutes or so of our worship, and furthermore, you'll have to ignore the faces and the lives of everyone around you, and probably parts of yourself as well. 

But of course I hope you won't do that. 

I hope instead you'll make room in your guest room--and in your Christmas--for what pain may come, and know the promise of the incarnation: that Jesus feels it too, and can make it holy.  

Advent Study: Luke 20

 

I spent a lot of time talking about Zacchaeus yesterday, but Luke 19 also contains Jesus' parade into Jerusalem, surrounded by crowds, and his overturning tables in the temple, both of which get him a lot of attention, most of it negative. In chapter 20 various factions, including chief priests, scribes, and Sadducees, question Jesus about his authority, taxes, and the resurrection. Their intent is not to learn from him, but to catch him saying something stupid and humiliate him. 

*Sigh*. This is a stressful chapter to read after yet another divisive election in our country. Neighbors no longer trust neighbors. The sides are entrenched. There is so much fear and rage. We have stopped listening to each other. Hope is so scarce in this world. In the disingenuous questions from leaders in the temple, I see such a familiar human tendency: we question not to learn but to attack. We listen not to understand but to respond and rebut. Jesus does not naively assume the best intent of his questioners. He knows exactly what they're up to. But he stays engaged with the conversation anyway. He stays put there in the temple. He tells parables. He answers questions. He asks a few questions himself. He's all done turning over tables. It's time to talk, and let the chips fall where they may. 

What I learn from Jesus here is: we can not always know the intentions of others, much less control what they are. But we know our own intentions. And while we still can, while the opportunity to talk exists, we can follow Jesus' example, and speak in good faith with those with whom we disagree. Conversation does not legitimize another person's viewpoint. It only gives us the chance to share our own. It may change nothing. But the fact that we tried again does make a difference. If you can safely do it, and you have the the emotional and spiritual energy to do it in good faith, do it. Do it again. Keep doing it. Jesus did. 

 

Advent Study: Luke 19

 

Luke 19 is the beginning of the end of Luke's Gospel. After telling some of his most memorable parables (Lost sheep, Prodigal Son, Rich Man & Lazarus, Widow & Unjust Judge) Jesus sets his eyes on Jerusalem. In Jericho, a short distance away, he encounters Zacchaeus, a wealthy tax collector, whos community shuns him as a sinner. Jesus tells him he will eat dinner at his house. 

Zacchaeus' response can be read in a couple of ways. Many English translations read something like, "half my possessions, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much." But in the original Greek, Zacchaeus says all this in the present tense, as if he's saying he already does these things. Is Zacchaeus making a promise for the future, or using this audience with Jesus as a public defense of his honor? Either way, Jesus says, "Today, salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost." 

Class and wealth are hot topics today. Our current economic system is working spectacularly well for some, but could do a whole lot better for most. How would we react to see Jesus dining with billionaires? It's a provocative question. 

Jesus does offer many challenges to the wealthy: 

"Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." (Lk 6:24)

"Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.'" (Lk. 16:25)

"Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God." (Lk. 18:25)

Yet those who do commit to the common good, Jesus embraces. Zacchaeus and other tax collectors find a welcome and grace from Jesus, but that does not mean God is indifferent to how we use our wealth. Whatever we have, we are accountable to use it to help others. There is simply no wiggle room there: it's commanded by God throughout the scriptures. Not sharing with those in need is sinful. Yet, as with any other of our sins, we find forgiveness in Jesus. 

 

Advent Study: Luke 14

 

I heard once that every single chapter of Luke's Gospel includes food. I haven't checked that for myself, but Luke 14 is all about food! It includes Jesus' teaching about taking the humbler seats at a table, about inviting to your table the poor and others with no way to repay you. Jesus also tells a parable about a wedding feast where the invited guests spurn the invitation, so the master brings in the poor, those with disabilities, and others who wouldn't normally get an invite. 

In this season of feasting, it's important to remember those who don't get a lot of dinner invitations. This evening, we'll be singing Christmas carols for the cars lined up for our "Food of Faith" takeout meals, while another church serves the meal. Next week, it'll be our turn to serve. If Jesus really is "the reason for the season," we need to find ways to invite those he would want at our tables. 

Advent Study: Luke 13

 

(I've missed several days, but no one has noticed, so I'll just pick it back up from here. Luke 9-12 do have some good stuff, though. I hope you've been following along.) 

Luke 13 begins with some people questioning Jesus about Galileans killed by Pontius Pilate. Rather than speak out against Pilate's cruelty or say these people somehow deserved it, Jesus tells his listeners that we are all sinners and just as deserving of such a fate. Everyone needs to repent. Jesus tells a few more parables about the coming judgment and the need for repentance, stopping to heal a woman on the sabbath. His last teaching in this chapter is a lament over Jerusalem, and a warning about the destruction that is coming. 

The community overhearing these teachings of Jesus in Luke's Gospel, 60 years on, could understandably be struggling with why God allows good people to suffer. Even if you were the kindest, nicest, most faithful family in Jerusalem, when the Roman army came and laid siege, ultimately burning the place down, you'd suffer right alongside the worst sinners. In the same way today, I think many people are struggling with what it means to live a good, faithful life in a world in crisis. Those who will face the worst suffering due to environmental disasters, or the collapse of democracy in some areas, will not be suffering because they were worse sinners than anyone else. They will be--and many already are--simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, receiving the consequence of the whole world's complacency. Yet Jesus' warning is clear: don't think they will be suffering alone. "unless you repent, you will all perish as they did." 

I do not believe God simply presses a "wrath" button and creates wars, famines, or natural disasters to punish the wrong people. I don't believe the Bible teaches that. But I do believe, and see everyday, that God does give us enough freedom to suffer from the consequences of what we, not as individuals but as the whole world, are willing to tolerate. If you want to call that "God's wrath," fine. Just don't blame the victims. And don't assume those hurting now will be the only ones. It's time to have a serious talk with God, and ask how we can ease their suffering, and down the line, prevent our own. 

Advent Study: Luke 8

 

Jesus continues his teaching/healing ministry with a number of parables and miracles that are depicted in the other synoptic gospels: the parable of the sower, the calming of the storm, the healing of a demoniac, and the little girl and old woman healed together. But Luke prefaces this flurry of ministry activity with a unique and interesting detail: some of Jesus' disciples (including major funders of his ministry) are women. 

In Matthew and Mark, Mary Magdalene is not mentioned by name until the crucifixion. But Luke takes time early on to name Mary Magdalene, detailing that she was cured of seven demons, as well as Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward, and Susanna. Luke says they and others "provided for them out of their resources." Jesus' ministry was supported and funded by women.  

I am honored to serve in a church that ordains women to preach the gospel and administer the sacraments, and has for 50 years. I'm blessed to have called some of these women my pastors, and later on, my colleagues. And I'm grateful for the contributions of faithful women through the history of God's people, both clergy and lay. Jesus calls people of all genders to follow, and without all its members, the body of Christ is incomplete.