John 1:35-42 Andrew Said it First

 

Observation: Today is the festival of Andrew the apostle, and so we read about Andrew's first meeting with Jesus. It's notable in John's Gospel that Andrew has already been searching for truth--he is a follower of John the Baptist. It's also notable that Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, is the first to name Jesus as "Messiah", or "Christ" in Greek. In days long past, the king of Israel, whom God chose to lead the people, was anointed with oil by a priest. For centuries, the people have been waiting for another anointed ruler to save Israel from oppression and sin. The other Gospels make a big deal out of Simon Peter's confession that Jesus is the Messiah. For them, Peter is the first to use that word, and it comes only after walking with Jesus and seeing him in action. In John's telling, Peter first hears it from his brother Andrew. 

Application: I don't know what it is that Andrew sees in Jesus that makes him so certain he's in the presence of an anointed king. John the Baptist has already called him "Lamb of God," but "Messiah" first comes from Andrew's lips. He doesn't wear a crown or fine robes. He's a carpenter. A laborer among laborers. Yet after spending just an afternoon with him, Andrew knows this is "the one", and he's excited to tell his brother about him. 

Learning from Andrew's example, I want to draw my conclusions about Jesus not from appearances, and not from what others say, but from spending time with him. Hanging out with Jesus changes us. And it helps us reach out to others who might want to get to know him. 

Prayer: Jesus, Messiah, help me find more time today to spend with you. Reign in  my heart, and open my mouth to share you with others. Amen.  

 

 

Revelation 11:15-19

 

Observation: In John's vision, the final of seven seals has been opened, and the final of seven trumpets has been sounded. The revelation from God is reaching its conclusion. Elders in heaven announce God's final victory, and judgment over those who have destroyed the earth (and those who live here) for their personal gain. 

 

Application: As I read Revelation 11, it's hard not to hear the "Hallelujah Chorus," from George Frideric Handel's "Messiah." Even though it comes more in the "Easter" section of that work, many of us associate it with Christmas, when many choirs sing it. Every Christmas for many years, my maternal grandfather drove from Farmington, Michigan, to the Hartland Music Hall--just a few miles away from my home--to sing this piece with a community choir. I imagine my mom must have gone to see it a few times, but I don't recall ever going. That brings me a twinge of regret. 

The other piece of this scripture which stands out for me, is the reminder from the elders that it's not just human interactions that count in God's judgment. How we treat the earth counts too. It makes me ponder the question of whether the Fifth Commandment, "you shall not murder," applies beyond the human realm, and into living things that exist beside us, whom God has also called "good" and commanded to be fruitful and multiply? There's a big difference between "harvesting" the goods of the land, both plant and animal, for survival--every living thing does that--and killing for sport, or because it's more convenient than not doing so.  

That's where this text speaks to me today: giving thanks for the gift of music, which connects us to the hosts of heaven, and for the gift of our planet, in which all life is interconnected and responsible for mutual care. 

Prayer: God, thank you for giving us this "sheet music" to the praises of Heaven. Though in this life we'll never know what it sounds like, thank you for inspiring composers and singers to imagine it and share your words with new ears. And God, thank you for the web of life. remind us of our responsibility, not just to future generations, but to our living neighbors, human and nonhuman, who depend on our care and good will. Amen. 

Hebrews 10:32-39 Our Prized Possession

 

Observation: The preacher of this sermon to mostly Jewish believers in Christ reminds them of the struggles they and so many others faced early on because of their faith. Abuse, persecution, prison, and the loss of property were all part of early Christians' lives. Not only did believers themselves go through this, but they had friends and partners go through it as well. Suffering and persecution were never far from the first generation of Christians, and they saw it as a defining mark: a connection to Christ, who himself suffered as part of his earthly life. Yet the preacher reminds the hearers that they were able to do this confidently and even cheerfully, knowing that the possession that really mattered--their identity in Christ--could never be taken away by the cruelty of others. 

Application: Christians lived as a religious majority, in a comfortable partnership with our surrounding culture in Europe and North America, for so long that we lost touch with what it was like for early believers. They often had to choose their faith over friendships, economic opportunities, family connections, and even personal safety. It takes some mental and spiritual work to really identify with what that must have been like, because for many American Christians, faith had been a comfortable thing. When I do take a minute and think what it must have been like to be a religious minority, facing danger for practicing my faith, it reminds me that all the comfort around me is not going to last. I'm thankful to have a good job, a roof over my head, and the freedom to proclaim Christ publicly. Yet even if that all went away, who I am as a child of God would not. My prized possession is not a physical thing but my connection to a loving and gracious God. 

Prayer: God, thank you for all my blessings. Help me to have compassion for all those who suffer and face danger on account of their faith. Help me to remember what is essential in life, and celebrate it each day. Amen.  

1 Timothy 5:9-16 "Real Widows"

Observation: I'll level with you. The Pastoral Epistles (1 and 2 Timothy, Titus) are not my favorite New Testament books, and it's passages like this that explain why. The author, writing in Paul's name, gives the church advice on how to care for widows, and  his words strike me as extremely harsh. Only women who are above 60 and have a good reputation for helping others should be put on "the list" (for financial support from the church). The concern is that younger widows who receive financial support are more likely to get into mischief and give the church a bad reputation, so the author suggests they remarry. 

This one is hard. I really don't like what the author is trying to say here. I resent the way it depicts women. It's hard to see the merciful heart of Jesus in this legalistic language. That said, as a twenty-first century American Christian, I'm in no place to judge, and here's why: the whole conversation from this epistle is based on the assumption that if a widow does, in fact, qualify as "real," whatever that means, she is to be supported fully, in all her daily needs, by the ministry of the church. That's a very different context from what we live in today. 

Application: Again, I have big problems with this whole way of figuring who genuinely "deserves" support, and who doesn't. 

Still, we do make decisions every day with our own finances. When we have money we could be sharing with other worthy causes, we have to ask which ones are more worthy than others. We don't have an unlimited amount of money or time, so saying "yes" to one thing means saying "no" to others. In Western nations today, usually this conversation is one that either takes place in individual households, as we decide how much to share and with whom, or on the governmental level, where we have a major clash of values about larger social programs to help those in need. We don't usually have these conversations in the Church anymore. We're not living communally, as an extended family, like the early believers did, and we are not taxpayer-funded, like some European churches are. Therefore, too often, this starts to feel like a totally secular conversation, with no connection to our faith. Jesus is not invited to the table: neither to the kitchen table nor the legislative table. 

What I get from these verses in First Timothy, as judgmental as they may seem at first, is this is not a community asking "whether" it's their responsibility to support widows and others in need. They are asking hard questions about "how." I don't think there's any wiggle room in the Bible about "whether" to help those in need. The only question is "how." The answer may change over time, but reading scripture does at least ground us in the right question: for our personal finances, as well as our larger civic conversations. 

Prayer: God, ground me in your word before I open my mouth. May my words reflect your values, in my home, in my community and in the larger conversation of our society. Amen.  

 

Deuteronomy 28:58-29:1 The Kick of "Karma"

 

Observation: This is a sobering collection of verses about the consequences of Israel's breaking its covenant with the Lord, and no longer following God's laws. Lasting afflictions and maladies, including the plagues God brought on Egypt. Dwindling numbers. Slavery. Ruin and destruction. It's grisly stuff. It reminds me a little of the pop-culture definition of the eastern concept of "karma", that "if you do bad things, bad things will happen to you." I notice in this warning from the Lord, however, that it isn't just general moral "badness" that will yield these bad results. It is covenant unfaithfulness: the failure of God's chosen people to obey God, and to live in the specific way God outlines, which they are here promising to do. 

Application: I don't really believe in "karma", neither in the Eastern version, in which bad choices in this life yield bad results in future lives, nor the simplified "pop culture" version, that some divine force will immediately "zap" you with calamity as a direct result of specific choices you made yesterday. I've seen way too many terrible things happen to loving and conscientious people, and way too many wonderful things happen to hateful, selfish people. Jesus says God causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. 

That said, I do believe in cause and effect. I know that tiny choices we make everyday, added with tiny choices of billions of others, can make the world a better or worse place: a place, for instance, where famines, drought, pandemics, and a host of other things warned about in Deuteronomy, are more or less likely to happen across the world. Unfortunately, the result of my choices doesn't always fall squarely on my head. It might affect my neighbor more. And the choices of my neighbor, who might be thousands of miles away, might come and smack me upside the head. I don't believe it's God pulling levers on every little thing that happens to me daily. 

I do, however, believe God has given me a framework for a better world. It starts with small choices--for me, as an individual, because I'm the only one I can change--but over time and across the globe, it can make a huge difference. Even though I'm under a new covenant as a follower of Jesus, the first covenant, in Deuteronomy, has some really helpful guidance for living in community. It's a gift. If we unwrap it and learn from it together, might just make this ride on planet earth a bit less bumpy, between now and the Day of the Lord. 

Prayer: God, thank you for the gift of your law. Help me greet it as a gift: protecting me from harm, showing me where I still need work, and guiding me into a better way of being in the world. Amen.