A Homiletical Reflection on Ash Wednesday
A Homiletical Reflection on Ash Wednesday
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 or Isaiah 58:1-12
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Jesus the Sacred Ash
I spent part of my childhood in a village in northern China. When someone in the community passed away, their family and relatives would sprinkle ash across the threshold of their gateways. Although I did not know the origin or the meaning of the local custom, it often reminded me of Ash Wednesday.
Early Jewish tradition used ashes as an expression of grief. Subsequently, early Christians continued using ashes to show repentance. The custom spread widely throughout western Europe. In the eleventh-century, the church in Rome adopted the rite as Feria Quarta Cinerum (Ash Wednesday). In the unfolding of the liturgical year, some Catholic and Protestant traditions celebrate Ash Wednesday to mark the beginning of the Lenten season.
As Lent parallels and mirrors the forty-days of Jesus fasting and temptations in the wilderness, Ash Wednesday calls and invites the Christian believer to contrition and repentance. In the ceremony, a believer receives a visible sign of the cross on the forehead and hears the Scriptural reminder, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you return" (Genesis 1:19) or the admonition, "Repent, and believe in the Gospel" (Mark 1:15). Ash Wednesday is a time to remember our humble origin.
Historically, Ash Wednesday reflections focus on the fallen-ness and sinfulness of humanity, but as I meditate on the ash itself, I have discovered that ash is more than a symbol of loss and humility. Ash also reminds us that we are made in the image of God. It commemorates the sacrificial love Christ has for us. It encourages us to purge destructive actions and urges us to pursue a life of purity. Ash heightens our awareness of the life-giving attribute of our Creator. It propels us to live out a renewed life by the power of the Resurrection. These expanded meanings give us fresh eyes and guide us into Lent.
First of all, ash is a residue from the burning of fire. The ash we use on Ash Wednesday is usually burnt from the palm branches we have used and carefully stored from the previous Palm Sunday. In King Solomon's time, carved palm trees adorned the first Jerusalem temple (1 Kings 6:29). When Jesus rode the colt into Jerusalem, people waved palm branches in the air and paved them for Jesus' path. Palm branches symbolized victory. In sharp contrast, Christ's triumph defies the worldly logic of conquer and conquest. In his forty-day of fasting in the wilderness, he resisted the temptation to turn stones into bread, instead, he became the Bread of Heaven for us to consume. He refused to put God to test, instead, he took the cup of bitterness and surrendered his will to God. He turned away from the kingdoms' splendors, instead, he pledged his allegiance to God the Father. Similar to the palm branches burned to ashes, Jesus laid down his life for the world.
When we enter into a deeper level of following Jesus, we are reminded by the ash that God breathed his sacred image into the lowly dust and formed us. Therefore, we recognize humanity as fundamentally worthy of respect. We grieve over our individual and communal sufferings of injustice, as when Tamar was raped and sprinkled ashes on her head (2 Samuel 13:19). We express our sorrows for harming others, as when David repented killing Uriah (2 Samuel 12).
Secondly, ash contains rich nitrogen. It helps to replenish the soil. In this world, we find people who are deeply caring and encouraging. As the nitrogen enriches the soil, so they nourish our growth. Maybe they are someone who has cleaned our buildings in the early mornings for decades. Maybe they are farmers who have sweated to grow our food. Maybe they are firefighters who risked their lives for ours. Maybe they are nurses who have been on their feet for many hours to relieve someone's pain. Perhaps they are faithful artists who paint beauty and hope with their brushes, perhaps they are stay-at-home parents who are committed to raising their children. Perhaps they are respected elderly who pour out their prayers and blessings over their friends. Many times, they are the unexpected people. They maybe the people who have little but still prepare a meal for strangers, they maybe the children who befriend the lonely, they maybe the injured who rescue the abandoned animals, and they maybe the disabled who put wings on dreams. These are the people who are like the ash. They nourish our souls. Through their choices, we see Jesus being our sacred ash. He renews us, so we can flourish as how the Creator intends us to be. May we also become other people's ash, so we may all thrive in God's Garden.
Thirdly, ash is a disinfecting agent consisting of alkaline. It is an alternative to soap. To make lye soap, you need to add ash as a main ingredient. Jesus is the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world. Dirt and stains are like chains in that they burden us, rot, stink, and invade the surrounding space. Like the ash in the lye soap, Jesus breaks our bondage, washes away the heaviness, disinfects the wounds, and empowers us to seek a clean life that attracts others with the aroma of truth, goodness, and beauty.
Lastly, ash is not simply a signal of despair. Rather, it points to the glorious future of the final resurrection. Early Christians used a legendary phoenix as a symbol of the risen Christ. The allegorical meaning derives from the mystical bird that arose out of ash. On the crucifix, Jesus-God in humanity, was reduced to nothing. Yet, his powerful Resurrection testifies that death is not the ultimate destiny of the world we live in. As Christians, we participate and expect the New Heaven and the New Earth,
After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!' And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying: "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen." (Revelation 7:9-12)
Ash lays out and offers the Christian theology of the cross. It was the Holy Spirit who descended upon Jesus, and the heaven declared, "This is my Son, the Beloved" (Matthew 3:17). In the same way the Holy Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness and remained present to him, we must remember that the Holy Spirit is with us as we walk through water and fire. Let us bear in mind that the Holy Spirit accompanies us on our own Lenten trail.
Perhaps the act of sprinkling ash at the gate entrance in northern China can remind us that from the end comes a new beginning. As our foreheads bear the visible ash-sign of the cross, we are encouraged to embrace Jesus, the sacred Ash, who is long-suffering, purity, and the resurrection.
We give thanks to God for people whose lives emulate the ash. We pray that God our Creator mourns with us through the world's pain and sorrow. May God purify and replenish us so we may lay down our lives for the mission of God. We anticipate in the long-expected Reunion in the New Jerusalem, waving palm branches in the grand victory with people of all nations!
Biographical Summary
Susangeline Patrick is a PhD candidate in Intercultural Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary. She is also an adjunct faculty of History of Christianity at North America Institute of Indigenous Theological Studies (NAIITS). Her academic research focuses on the theology of visual art in Christian mission history, and her teaching emphasizes mission history from an Indigenous/ Native American/First Nations perspective.
First Sunday in Lent
February 18, 2018
As a Missional Preacher, I am self-consciously situated among boundaries and borders. I am aware of empty spaces, overlapping spheres and criss-crossing lines. And as a Missional Preacher, I get to experience God moving across those boundaries, creating new intersections and removing those borders. I get to witness God incarnated in each time and place; and resurrected in a transformation of each time and place. And I am sent to be part of God's continual movement to create community and abundance.
My own ministry context is in the humanitarian arenas of disaster and refugee ministries. The stories to which I am witness give me a particular eye for those borders and boundaries caused by natural disaster and by the forcible displacement of groups of people. I bring that lens to the texts suggested by the Revised Common Lectionary for use in worship on the First Sunday of Lent: Genesis 9:8-17, 1 Peter 3:18-22, and Mark 1:9-15. We preach these texts as the liturgical season of Lent begins. Lent itself is time set apart to stimulate our consciousness of borders and boundaries, of chasms and divisions, of floods and wilderness. It is a season of repentance in the midst of that brokenness and chaos. And emerging from authentic interactions with this chaos is renewal. Lent anticipates that this renewal is not just an adaptation to the way things are, but is the possibility of living the reality of what abundant life for all can be-resurrection.
Exegetical Missional Insights
From these lenses, some observations in the biblical texts:
Genesis 9:8-17 is a story of high drama. God makes a unilateral agreement with all of humanity and all creation, sealing that agreement with a bow set in the midst of clouds. This action and image is so concrete and yet, so out of the ordinary, that it catches our attention. It reminds us that the new pierces brokenness with the reality that beauty is in our midst. It is a sign. The bow in this story bridges the chaos and destruction flood waters with the nourishing and flourishing of the waters of creation. This is a prophetic text. Walter Brueggemann has described a prophet as one who helps communities imagine the unimaginable. The literary device that signals this prophetic moment is God's direct speech. Human prophets preface their words, "The Lord God says." Here, in Genesis 9, God speaks directly; bringing a new reality into being. The new reality is covenant relationship, a belonging and an interdependence that is abundant life. Covenant is mentioned in this text over and over again, a sure literary pointer to importance. The covenant that God initiates and follows through on is with all flesh and applicable to the whole earth. It is valid for all generations and times. God speaks this covenant into reality in the presence not only of Noah, but also of his children, referencing all their descendants. The passage is punctuated with God repeating what has just been said multiple times, "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth" (Genesis 9:17).
1 Peter 3:18-22 is written for people in the context of political chaos. In this first generation after Jesus, followers are trying to figure out what it means to be a community of faith in new contexts and in the midst of turmoil. In this tumultuous context of border crossing, they identify with the experience of the flood waters of Noah's day. They ponder their own identity and purpose. Baptism with the sign of water is concrete and yet, out of the ordinary. This water indicates newness beyond the surface removal of dirt, but as a change of conscience (of self-understanding, identity and purpose). This text expands the scope of this newness into the cosmic with the introduction of angels, authorities, and powers.
Mark 1:9-15 narrates the baptism of Jesus, his being driven into the wilderness, and the newness that his identity embodies and makes possible. Again, this is a prophetic text. God speaks directly to Jesus of his identity, power, and purpose. That identity is beloved relationship. "This is my Son ..." Parts of creation have been actors in the baptism-the water and a dove. But other parts of creation in this text are actors of fear and destruction. In the wilderness, the beasts are not friendly, but produce turmoil for Jesus. And while Jesus is in the midst of his struggle, world events break in and give his identity purpose. John, the one who pointed the way to Jesus as God's beloved, is arrested, held as a political prisoner and then killed. This political violence moves Jesus to act on his identity. He is sent. Jesus speaks directly to the people, prophetically punctuating his purpose, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news" (Mark 1:15).
God's Mission in the Text
In the face of disaster events or violence that forcible displace people, the chaos and instability of flood waters, of community fear, and of political arrest and violence are real. God's mission as viewed through these texts situates the mission of God in the very nature of God and of what God does. God initiates and keeps covenant relationship. It is a covenant relationship with a scope of time and place that includes all flesh and all generations and the whole cosmos. God acts. God's signs are concrete, embedded within creation itself. In that creation is randomness and continual movement. And, in God's nature and actions are signs that pierce the reality of destruction and chaos to bring a new structure, form, and stability to creation, a realized promise of abundance, relationship, and belonging.
Missional Connections for Our Context
My take-away from standing in this in-between space with people who experience natural disaster and refugee displacement is that God-talk matters. Who we experience God to be guides the shape of the disaster recovery and of the refugee accompaniment and situates us in the purpose of relationship. While questions often turn to blame in the face of disruption, Jesus repeatedly diverts that response into opening another window into his own identity and purpose.
The created world is constantly in motion and that motion is life. God's creation is a constant creative tension among interdependent forces. Creation's complexity and interdependence means that the movement of one part of creation affects other parts sometimes without any intention or, even, consciousness. That movement can create beauty and new life, but it can also produce destruction and chaos. When those movements take place abruptly or in large scale, communities lack the time, ability, and resources to adapt. This destructive effect on large numbers of people is a natural disaster. In our day, human actions have accelerated and intensified these changes in creation's movements (climate change), disrupting this delicate interdependence and thus creating more and stronger natural disasters. Already vulnerable communities experience disasters most severely. The cycle of vulnerability and exclusion means that they are the least prepared to avoid or adapt to disaster events and that they are the least able to recover, making the next disaster more traumatic. God is embedded in these very situations of vulnerability and destruction. God suffers with those who suffer. God experiences the wilderness and the flood. God experiences pain. The covenant relationship is full and authentic and real. At the same time and in the same place, God is in the midst of creating newness that has abundance and well-being as its goal and purpose, not suffering.
Likewise, those who suffer the most from political violence and turmoil are those already vulnerable and excluded. Jesus experiences that political violence. He is personally affected by John's arrest and execution. It is the very experience of this pain that prompts Jesus to exercise his divine identity. Jesus himself becomes a bridge into the newness of the kingdom of God in which all are knit together in mutual relationship. It is good news that he himself embodies and empowers.
As communities of faith, we too are sent into God's mission, guided and empowered by the identity of who God is. The shape of disaster response is created in conversation with this God-talk and self-understanding of the people. Disaster recovery guided by God-talk of hierarchy and coercive power intensifies the cycle of vulnerability, widens the gap between those with power and those without power, and accelerates the destruction of creation's interdependence. But proclaiming God's nature and mission as both embedded in community and in the midst of creating new community sends us to live out our identity and purpose as covenant relationship. We are empowered to work with all those who are creating a post-disaster stability that preferences the vulnerable and empowers the powerless. We are sent to create a community of newness that is abundant and just for all.
In this season of Lent, a Missional Preacher can stand in chaos with those who suffer the destruction of natural disaster and of political turmoil and, at the same time, can be part of creating a reality that has form, order, and abundance for all. The Lenten rhythm of repentance and renewal enables the experience of those simultaneous realities. Response and recovery that are shaped by this God-talk of who God is and of what God does punctuate the promise-"This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth" (Genesis 9:17) and "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news" (Mark 1:15).
Biographical Summary
Mary Schaller Blaufuss, M.Div., Ph.D. is an ordained pastor in the United Church of Christ, serving as Team Leader for Humanitarian and Development Ministries in the UCC national setting. Her work and writings in disaster, refugee, global sustainable development and volunteer ministries emphasize partnership, mutuality, empowerment, and accompaniment. Mary formerly taught at the United Theological College in Bangalore, India, pastored congregations in Pennsylvania and Iowa, and is a graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary and Eden Theological Seminary.
Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:23-31
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
Abram, historically called the father of our faith, receives a new name from God (Abraham). likewise, Sarai becomes Sarah. These new names, however, pale in comparison with the covenant God establishes with Abraham and Sarah. Together in their old age they will conceive and the son born to Sarah will initiate a line of nations and kings.
The Psalmist commands Jacob's offspring (descendants of Abraham and Sarah) to glorify God, further noting that all the ends of the earth will turn to God and worship before him for he is the Ruler over the nations.
Paul notes that the promise given to Abraham came through faith. We who look to him as the father of our faith do so through God's grace and not the Law. Just as Abraham's faith was "reckoned to him as righteousness," so too will those who believe in God-the very God who raised Jesus from the dead-be reckoned as righteous.
Finally, Mark notes that Christ paid a great cost and calls us to follow him in denying ourselves as he denied himself. It is only in losing our lives for the sake of Christ will we find life in him. Our simple trust in Christ, therefore, grants us righteousness but comes with a cost of our very lives given over the One who gave his life for us.
From a missiological vantage point, the essence of the Good News is encapsulated in the ideas of belief, grace, and cost. We believe even as we call others to believe together with us. Walking in the footsteps of Abraham, by God's grace our belief is credited to us as righteousness. While this comes freely to us, it also comes with a price. Being counted as righteous, we are to give ourselves to service of God and others. That service is mission rooted in belief in God and with eyes firmly fixed on Christ's work on our behalf. We don't earn righteousness, but we do follow in Jesus' footsteps by being willing to pay a price for our beliefs. This is the astonishing paradox that intertwines grace and cost. As we look towards the events of Easter, we can rejoice in both.
Biographical Summary
Scott Moreau is Professor of Intercultural Studies and Dean of Wheaton Graduate School. He served as the Editor of Evangelical Missions Quarterly (2001-2017) and as the general editor of Baker Books' Encountering Mission series. He served as a missionary in Swaziland (1978 to 1980) and Kenya (1984 to 1991) before coming to teach at Wheaton.
Third Sunday in Lent
March 4, 2018
Ex 20:1-17
Psalm 19
1 Cor 1:18-25
John 2:13-22
The Unlikely Wisdom of God-A Lenten Reflection
For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified [...] the power of God and the wisdom of God (1 Cor 1:22-24).
What does seeking wisdom as we participate in God's mission look like in the 21st century? And where can we find wisdom that is truly equal to such a task? To be sure there are many fields of study that can (and should!) inform how we go about our assigned tasks. Organizational leadership can help us understand the structures and practices that make groups of people effective. Anthropology and sociology can guide us into making our message maximally intelligible to, and transformational for, our socio-cultural settings. History can relate instructive narratives of what has worked, and what hasn't, as generations of God's people have pursued his mission. Psychology can give us insights into how people change and how the human instruments of mission can be renewed in their service rather than exhausted by it. But while these fields, and many others, offer essential wisdom for pursuing mission, the Lenten season calls us to remember the limitations and the frailty of human endeavor. While we rightly employ all our knowledge in the service of God's mission, the ash on our foreheads cries out for a more enduring source of wisdom to serve as our foundation. What power, what wisdom, is capable of sustaining the people of God participating in the mission of God? The immediate contexts of our four texts for the morning all provide rich ground for reflecting on God's mission in his revealed Word. And they also strongly agree on what that mission must be predicated on: the unlikely wisdom of God.
Our reading from the Torah comes right at the climax of the book of Exodus. Throughout most of salvation history, the mighty acts of God in this book served as the example par excellence of God's salvation, surpassed only by God's revelation of himself in his Son, Jesus. Exodus tells the story of the journey of Jacob's children out of the house of slavery and toward the promised inheritance. At the beginning of the book, God's earlier promise to make Abraham's descendants a flourishing nation could not seem further from fulfillment; they were decidedly neither flourishing nor a nation. Today's passage comes at the crucial moment in the narrative of God's redemptive story thus far. The children of Israel are gathered at the foot of the mountain, in the presence of their God, surrounded by storms and thick darkness, about to be made a people by their covenant with the God of Abraham. And the covenant (which will be elaborated for the rest of the book) is summarized here in a few verses; a preamble to the Torah; the essence of what constitutes living under his rule; the distilled wisdom of God.
Likewise, our Epistolary reading for this morning comes from a kind of preamble; an introduction to a letter written from a missionary to a church. This church, whose high calling was to live as the people of God in their own Roman Colonial context, was apparently struggling with a bickering membership, power-plays, broken sexuality, and disorderly worship. They were in desperate need of a renewed sense of how to live as God's chosen people, and of the power to do so. And the Apostle Paul begins his remedy by re-focusing them on a new criterion for self-understanding: the wisdom of God.
Our reading from the Psalms is a hymn that calls the bodies of the heavens (personified in the sun) and the sacred written word to bear witness to the surpassing wisdom of Israel's God. It is telling that this Davidic Psalm was written in a religious context where the two main witnesses called by the composer of this song (the Sun and the Sacred Texts) were often seen as the objects of worship or totems of power, rather than mere instruments. Rather than ignore these erstwhile idols, the psalmist redeems them, freeing them from the burden of being sources of life and power which they are simply unable to bear and restoring them to their rightful place in the order instituted by the Creator: as joyful signs pointing to the true source of wisdom. To the psalmist, nothing is sweeter than when life is ordered according to the wisdom of God.
And our Gospel reading finds Jesus at the Temple, the ostensible center of God's mission, the place where God had chosen to dwell in the midst of his people and from which Israel was to demonstrate the surpassing greatness and mercy of God to the nations. And he is very unimpressed with what he finds; a neglect of mission and a desperate lack of wisdom from God.
So, what does it mean for us to follow the wisdom of God in pursuing his mission? Let us look briefly at what each passage tells us about the wisdom that is from God. First, I find a great deal of hope in the fact that Paul addresses the Corinthian letter to "the Church." For all its dysfunction and all its failings, the body assembled in Corinth was still fundamentally the people of God. As the book unfolds, it reveals a church whose ideas about power, order, status, and identity were not discernably different from the rest of the Corinthian society. Paul's main aim in this letter is not simply to scold them for their shortcomings, but to exhort them to live a distinctive life, one worthy of being called the people of God. And he begins this task by extolling the wisdom of God in the Crucified One. He argues that Christ's kenotic example is not only a radical departure from the wisdom on which the Corinthian society is predicated (the wisdom of acting from a position of strength and serving self, for example), but that weakness and frailty, the seeming failure of an executed King, demolishes the pretensions of what they think is wise; bringing it to utter nothingness. In a Roman colony, status and identity were predicated on position, wealth, and patronage. And a wise person made sure to use these things to maximum advantage. But wisdom from God, according to verse 30, is predicated on "righteousness, holiness, and redemption." Not only are these very different criteria by which to evaluate what is wise, Paul takes great pains to drive home that all three criteria are gifts we receive by the grace and mercy of God.
Plenty could be said about the significance of the Ten Commandments for the mission and wisdom of God. But I think it is most significant that when God sets out to distill the covenant by which Israel will live as his people, he begins not with a discussion of moral reasoning, but by recounting (1) who he is (I AM the LORD), (2) his relationship to his people (your God), and (3) his mighty acts in history on behalf of his people (who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery). If this is what God chooses to predicate his covenant on, I think it also gives us a solid foundation for pursuing mission according to his wisdom. Whatever we do in mission should flow from this source: who God is, that he has made us his people, and how he has acted in history on our behalf.
Psalm 19 is a beautiful hymn to the wisdom of God. In it the psalmist proves the excellencies of the God of Abraham through two clusters of observations. First, he discerns the wisdom of God in ordering the universe (vv. 1-6). Then he notes how God's wisdom is proven by the fruits of obedience to his Torah (vv. 7-14). In verses 7-11 he notes the power of God's precepts to transform the human life. Then in verses 12-14 he exemplifies how meditation on the wisdom of God leads to an ever-increasing awareness of our need for more transformation. While the other passages are more focused on what the wisdom of God consists of, this passage tells us the tell-tale signs that God's wisdom is being followed. For one thing, the created order (including the fields of study we mentioned above) finds its rightful place, not as the fount of wisdom but as a mark of and contributor to it. Also, the fruit of pursuing God's mission according to his wisdom is an utterly transformed, enlightened, and joyful life. And finally, that transformation brings with it a kind of godly discontent that is constantly seeking to be transfigured with ever-increasing glory.
Finally, we turn to the Gospel passage and wonder the obvious question: why is Jesus, normally so merciful, patient, and kind, so very angry? Perhaps it is because he came into this place where his mission was supposed to be centered and discovered that wisdom from God was nowhere to be found. The decision to set up a trading floor in the court of the Gentiles doesn't particularly seem to consist in righteousness, holiness, or redemption. It certainly was not predicated on who God is, on being his people, or on his mighty acts. Nor does it seem to be in any way oriented to cultivating a life of ongoing transformation. No, instead Jesus walked into the place his mission was supposed to be going on and found them searching for wisdom from the marketplace, or maybe in the realm of efficiency, or of political expediency. It also bears mentioning that the author of the fourth gospel includes this narrative at the beginning, while the other gospels include it at the end. This is most likely because the first part of John's gospel is arranged as a series of signs of Jesus' messiahship. The first sign is that Jesus fulfills the prophecy of zeal for God's house by passionately seeking to re-orient the temple to its mission. But this passage also foreshadows the climactic sign of the book: The Resurrection of Jesus, the ultimate sign of the triumph of the weakness of God.
Today's reading invites us to carefully consider our pursuit of God's mission and to reflect on what source of wisdom really undergirds it. Is our practice of mission, as Paul declares, predicated on a proclamation of our own weakness? Do we view it as something we possess in and of ourselves, or is it received of God? Does it take as its example the people our culture extolls as wise and strong, or is our example the Crucified One? When we take action, is it predicated on a clear vision of who God is, of being his people, and of being part of the unfolding story in which God is the primary actor? Are our lives and ministries marked by continual formation into Christ's likeness? Are we marked by a zealous concern for his house to become what he meant it to be? These are important questions for any season; but I think they are rendered all the more poignant by our Lenten discipline. It is the weakness and frailty that we remember that begins our journey into the mission of God. It is not in spite of our weakness, but through it that God will continue to triumph. And we are reminded that it is in the resurrection which we are all anticipating together that our frailty will be vindicated; that though the wrong might seem today to be strong, the unlikely wisdom of the weakness of God will prevail.
Biographical Summary
Danny Hunter is a PhD Candidate in Intercultural Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. An avid missiology junkie who loves serving in his local church, Danny spends most of his time finding and studying ways for mission and churches to intersect; and also walking his dog.
Fourth Sunday in Lent
March 11, 2018
Numbers 21:4-9
Ephesians 2:1-10
John 3: 14-21
Exegetical Missional Insights
In Numbers 21:4-9, we see the Hebrews running low on trust in God after 40 years in the Sinai desert. They became angry with Moses and God for their difficult and demanding conditions and for the manna they came to loathe. While they had strong belief in this God after their liberating Passover and their escape across the Red Sea, they eventually turned to other gods, other idols, i.e., the golden calf, much to God's dismay. The Hebrews remembered that life in Egypt under the pharaohs as slaves was no picnic. However, after decades of walking in the hot sands, they were tempted to return to "the good old days" where they at least got by with their daily oppressive routine and dead-end "security."
Finally, Moses appealed to his people to atone for their complaining against God. Upon repenting, Moses instructed them to look upon the raised-up bronze serpent on the pole, (a pre-figure of Christ) as a sign of healing, redemption, life, and hope. Likewise, he cajoled them to put all their trust in God. And then, they could GO FORWARD to the Promised Land where they could finally live in freedom and establish a nation where economic and political justice could thrive based on God's commandments. The Hebrews were called to trust in God's power and life, to be on a MISSION with God, to be an example, and demonstrate to the world how living in God's grace liberates us all.
For us then, we can conclude the season of Lent remembering that God invites us to turn away from the temptation to be satisfied with a dead-end, joy-less life that focuses only on our self-interest. Easter can be that season to not only renew our belief in a merciful God, but a time to more fully trust this God who may be also inviting us to a similar journey and mission. Like the Hebrews, we are called to be examples and co-creators of God's reign of justice, reconciliation, liberation and peace.
In Ephesians 2:1-10, Paul, like Moses, behooved his people away from the slavery of sin and be raised up to God our liberator. Paul, like the Hebrews, experienced a time of intense conversion and turned away from his old life to become the exemplar of missionary ministry. It would have been so much easier for Paul to remain in his secure hometown gaining prestige by killing off Christians. However, by not only believing but also trusting in God's grace, he traveled fiercely thousands of miles in terribly difficult conditions and situations to people of many other cultures to share God's message of kindness, mercy, salvation and love.
In John 3: 14-21, we first need to remember that in the preceding verses Jesus had just been in a dialogue with the learned and accomplished Nicodemus where Jesus offered a Christological reflection of himself. He likened himself to the serpent raised up by Moses, again as a sign of healing, redemption, life, hope. And he urged Nicodemus to put all his trust in God...not just to believe. To believe that Jesus died and was raised from the dead in order to save us is easy to understand in the sense that it requires almost nothing of us. But to trust in Jesus is not simply to believe in something that happened 2000 years ago, but also to let our own lives to be transformed by the Jesus we discover in this account.
Putting our trust in Jesus, as Paul did, means withholding our loyalty and trust from other things and give our full allegiance to Jesus. Both were executed by the Romans accused of being an enemy of that empire. As we complete the Lenten season, we may ask ourselves, "Who or what will we serve with our whole selves? To whom will we put all of our trust?" Or, will we be content to remain in the comforts of Egypt, enjoying the "benefits" of the enslaving imperial powers?
Putting our trust in Jesus signifies being open, again like St. Paul the missionary, leaving behind our self-satisfied religiosity. Missionaries open themselves to new understandings of God as Paul and Peter discovered in their council of Jerusalem, permitting non-Jews to enter their infant Christian community. Like the early apostles trusting in God's Spirit, we too can become missionaries wherever we are and be open to new journeys and missions, following Jesus locally or globally. A missionary life in Jesus may sometimes lead us away from short-term personal happiness, health and safety. While there is nothing in this world worth killing for, there are things worth dying for. The "lifting up" of Jesus reminds us that the true Easter life God has promised us is not the life that we can secure for ourselves through self-interest and caution. (From John 3:14-21 Commentary by Lance Pape - Working Preacher. www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentaty_id=2394 Downloaded 2/7/18)
God's Mission in the Text
So, what is the missio Dei here, what is God stirring up? In all of three of these scripture readings we witness God stirring up people to leave behind their past lives of dull conformity, self-centeredness, complacency, fatalism, and slavery. God stirred up Moses to speak out against the pharaoh and shout, "Let my people go!" In turn, God stirred up the Hebrews to leave their slavery of brick-making in Egypt to escape to the Red Sea. It was there where God stirred up the waters to allow them to pass to personal and communal freedom. From that point on in history, the Hebrews became missioners of God's liberative power, giving way to Jesus who then called his followers to continue that mission of hope, reconciliation, justice and peace. In turn, God stirred up the great missionary Paul who not only believed in Jesus but trusted him through his journeys and hardships.
Missional Connections for Our Context
So how do we participate in that same mission today? ...especially at this time in our nation's history when xenophobia, racism and sexism seem to be growing. Some of us could leave our safe corners of our communities, cross over our own "Red Seas," in order to start or continue ecumenical dialogue with churches of other Christian denominations. We could be called to develop efforts of inter-religious dialogue with our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers. Take on joint community projects together. Trusting in God, some of us could reach out to local immigrant communities and neighbors to invite them to join our church membership and leadership. That could even lead us to standing up for their rights and dialogue with our local and national political leaders, so this could allow for a more just and peaceful society = reign of God.
Some of us might be called to encourage well developed mission trips for our youth and adults to learn and appreciate people of other cultures, races or nations to discover and honor how they experience the liberated life of God. This could lead some to build church partnerships or parish twinning relationships to grow in solidarity, mutually growing in God's love together, sharing each other's joys, sorrow and challenges. Some of us, like Paul, could be called to a longer missionary commitment as single person or as families willing to become bridges of understanding and compassion between their home faith communities and their newly adopted communities.
How do individuals, church communities, government representatives, and others transform their attitudes toward others, especially of other religions, races, cultures or nations? When they put their trust in God, open their hearts, and become friends with different peoples. Easter season does not need to be limited to celebrating the lifting up of Jesus. Easter's power doesn't need to be restricted to believing in God's liberation from only personal death, hatred and narcissism. But Easter's liberation may also be an opportunity to trust further that God will give us the strength to work for the elimination of the causes of xenophobia, racism and sexism...to live like our brother Jesus, full of joy, hope, mercy, and peace.
Biographical Summary
Mike Gable is a doctor of Missiology and full-time director of the Mission Office for the Archdiocese of Cincinnati besides teaching as an adjunct professor of Theology at Xavier University. He has served in parishes in the U.S. and as a lay missioner with the Franciscans in Honduras and later with his family with the Maryknoll Lay Missioners in Venezuela.
Fifth Sunday in Lent
March 18, 2018
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 51:1-12
Hebrews 5:5-10
John 12:20-33
Introduction
The season of Lent is a time of preparation and fasting where we dwell on introspection, reflection, and repentance. We journey through Lent in humility and our fasts highlight our weakness and God's loving provision over us. The Fifth Sunday in Lent is uniquely situated. It comes after the Fourth Sunday, where some traditions allow fasts and penance to lighten in anticipation of the coming of Easter. It comes just before the high celebration of Palm Sunday, the hard, dark walk toward the Cross during the Passion Week, and the triumph and joy of resurrection on Easter Sunday. Taking this context seriously, we can think of the Fifth Sunday in Lent as a pensive breath before the final plunge.
Exegetical Missional Insights and God's Mission in the Text
Jeremiah 31:31-34
"The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant..." Our first text of the day begins with a bright promise to the house of Israel. Recognizing the ease at which Israel broke the covenant the Lord made with them at the Exodus, He will make a new covenant where the law will be within them, written on their hearts. They will no longer have to teach each other to know the Lord, for they will all know Him, from the least to the greatest. How is this accomplished? "I will forgive their iniquity," we learn in verse 34, "and remember their sin no more."
It is worthwhile to explore the nuances of timing, context, and meaning of the Old and New Covenants. There are plenty of resources available to help you with this along with your tradition's understanding of this promise. Moreover, examining this passage's location within the historical and biographical narrative of the fall of Jerusalem and exile of the Israelites, will bear you much fruit. Our focus, however, will remain on how clearly we can see the missio Dei (the mission of God) in this passage.
Here, in this word of the Lord, judgement is far away but the Lord is close. Even talk of disobedience is only a far echo from the past, placed on the actions of ancestors rather than the living. In this passage what we see is the Lord drawing close-so close that His law is within His people, on their very hearts. God moves towards humanity, creating a new way to be known-and known personally. Who shall know? The rich and the powerful? Those whose lineage, such as the Levites, already allow them to draw close? No, ALL will know Him, from the least to the greatest. Rather than the law being written on stone tablets that can be broken, stolen, or hidden away, the knowledge of the law will be within His people and all will have access to it. But how? God Himself is the initiator, actor, mover who forgives their iniquity and remembers their sins no more.
Psalm 51:1-12
In the North American context, we are rarely taught to preach from the Psalms. We don't have time for poetry, the sentiment goes, and we want to get to the meat of the lectionary. I would encourage you, however, to not rush so quickly through Psalm 51 so that you miss the cry at its heart. If your tradition breaks the psalm into a call and response by verse or half-verse, in your own preparation do not let this versification distract you. (Nor let snippets of song lyrics make it too familiar.) Instead, sit for a minute, hear the desperation in the psalmist's voice, and let it become your own:
Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you alone, have I sinned,
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are justified in your sentence
and blameless when you pass judgment.
Indeed, I was born guilty,
a sinner when my mother conceived me.
You desire truth in the inward being;
therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and sustain in me a willing spirit.
The bibliographical information before the psalm tells us this is the cry of David when Nathan came to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba. Yet, on this Fifth Sunday of Advent, in the fullness of Lenten humility, after five weeks of fasting and introspection, this could be any of our cries. Mercy, mercy, wash me clean, O Lord! I know I have sinned; it is right there in front of me. I know, after five weeks of fasting, that I am not strong enough. All I can do is cry out for your action, your movement, your washing, and depend on your steadfast love to answer me.
In a resource such as this, as we focus on God's movement in the world, this psalm provides us with a unique perspective-that of what God hears. Psalm 51, in this context, gives voice to all who cry out for mercy in humility and penance. It is a fitting psalm to be read on the Fifth Sunday in Lent.
Hebrews 5:5-10
The New Testament reading for this week provides a further exploration of humility and supplication, but this time in the person of Jesus Himself. In this passage, the writer of Hebrews specifically names Jesus as a priest in the order of Melchizedek. Melchizedek is the ancient priest-king of Salem who blesses pre-covenant Abram and to whom Abram, in turn, gives tithe in Genesis 14. The parallels to Jesus are intriguing. Among other things, his is a dual role of priest and king, the same as Jesus, and we learn from Hebrews chapter 7 that his ministry happens before and is superior to that of the Levitical priests, as can be said for Jesus as well.
However, we must continue to be aware of the context of the season. Rather than focusing on these parallels by choosing the Genesis narrative of Abraham and Melchizedek, the lectionary gives us Jeremiah, where God draws near and desires a new covenant with the law written on His people's hearts. Again, rather than having us focus on the new covenant discussion in Hebrews 7, we have Hebrews 5 instead. Our focus, then should be as much on the person of Jesus as our High Priest, as on the parallels between Jesus and Melchizedek.
So, how does Jesus serve as a priest in the order of Melchizedek? Verse 7 tells us through offering up "prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission." (An imaginative reader could even say, this sounds like what we just read in Psalm 51.) In these cries, Jesus's humanity and priesthood are fully realized as He gives voice to those who could not cry out and be heard. Further, Jesus's reverent submission brings Him to the Cross, through which His role of High Priest is perfected, and which becomes the source of eternal salvation for all who, in turn, obey Him (v. 9). Harkening back to Jeremiah, the Cross is how the Lord will forgive our iniquity and remember our sins no more.
John 12:20-33
Finally, the Gospel reading shows us how the Lord will be known to His people: Jesus drawing all people to Himself. The narrative begins with Greek visitors who have come to Jerusalem to worship at the Passover festival and ask to see Jesus. John does not tell us what they come to ask or discuss, only that Jesus answers them that serving Him involves sacrifice, obedience, and even death. Like a grain of wheat, He says, the death of one bears much fruit.
Even Jesus does not find this easy. Rather than asking to be saved from the coming hour, however, He turns His voice to the Father and cries for the Father to be glorified through the hour to come. The Father, who desires to be near His people, affirms this audibly for the benefit of the audience. Then Jesus shares the end result of this glorification: judgement of this world, driving its ruler out, and drawing all people to Himself.
A powerful narrative to hear on what can arguably be the hardest Sunday in Lent, John 12 keeps us focused like a laser on the Cross and what true submission looks like when we may be struggling the most in our own Lenten fasts. It also shows us a Savior who sees the Cross clearly and, though troubled, does not shy away from it or His Father's will but rather pushes into both. Even more, it shows us what it costs to draw all people to God, which we must keep clearly in our own congregational vision as we seek to serve Him in submission and humility.
Missional Connections for our Context
In the introduction, I noted that the Fifth Sunday in Lent is like a pensive breath before the final plunge. The next two weeks, from Palm Sunday to Easter, will be very busy weeks in the life of the Church. It is easy to be swept up in the busy preparation of Christianity's highest holy days. Yet rather than rushing so quickly through this week, the lectionary readings give us a moment to pause and look.
Personally and corporately, use this week like experienced athletes use their post-warm-up moments but pre-championship game in the locker room-to envision the meaning of what is to come. Like a skilled public speaker readying themselves backstage for a speech, this week is the focus time where we remember why we do what we do, and Who we glorify as we do it.
Allow the difficulty of Lent to be felt. Allow Psalm 51 to become your congregation's own cry. Allow the person of Jesus, as He looked to His death, to be the focus of the week. And allow the Lord to come near and be known, for He greatly desires to be.
Biographical Summary
Amanda Allen is a PhD student in the Intercultural Studies department at Asbury Theological Seminary, with a concentration in relief and development work. She writes from an Anglican tradition.
Palm/Passion Sunday
March 25, 2018
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
Philippians 2:5-11
Mark 15:1-39
Exegetical Missional Insights
All four of today's biblical texts are about the same person-the servant of the Lord. The servant is God's missionary agent. He is deployed to defeat evil and reclaim the world for God ... but hardly in a manner that squares with our expectations.
Isaiah 50:4-9
This is the third Servant Song in Isaiah 40-55 (cf. 42:1-9; 49:1-13; 52:13-53:12). The servant is unreservedly surrendered to God. Despite violent opposition, the servant remains undeterred (v. 7). He says what God tells him to say (v. 4). He does what God tells him to do (v. 5). And rather than defending himself, or wavering in his commitment, he persists and entrusts himself totally to "the Lord God who helps me" (v. 9).
Psalm 31:9-16
This psalm is a prayer for help offered by the Lord's servant (v. 16). The servant's faithfulness has not resulted in blessing and peace, but in "distress" (v. 9), "sorrow" (v. 9), "grief" (v. 9), "anguish" (v. 10), "groaning" (v. 10), "affliction" (v. 10), "utter contempt" (v. 11), and conspiring enemies (v. 13). And yet, in the face of death, one comfort still remains: "But I trust in you, Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.' My times are in your hands" (vv. 14-15a).
Philippians 2:5-11
Who is this servant-the one who humbles himself to the uttermost? The answer to this question is beyond the realm of human imagination or invention: The servant, Paul tells us, is none other than the Lord himself. Jesus, who "being in the very nature God" (v. 6), relinquished himself entirely to do the will of the Father, "becoming obedient to death-even death on a cross" (v. 8).
And, more mysterious still, this same humiliated servant has now been exalted as Lord of heaven and earth (v. 9). The Son's submission to the Father leads to all creation being subjugated to Jesus (v. 10).
Mark 15:1-39
Although the word, ‘servant', is not found in this passage, a number of intertextual echoes serve to make the connection (e.g. Mk. 15:5 and Is. 53:7; Mk. 15:15 and Is. 53:6; Mk. 15:27 and Is. 53:12; Mk. 15:33 and Is. 50:2; Mk. 15:43 and Is. 53:9).
Through the long ordeal of injustice and abuse described here, Jesus never retaliates, attempts to explain himself, or looks to evade suffering. Instead, even when all is dark, he cries out to God, "my God" (v. 34). And as a result of his obedience unto death, the nations-starting with a Roman centurion-confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (v. 39).
God's Mission in the Text
Taken as a whole, the Bible provides a long and complex answer to a relatively simple question: How will God deal with evil in the world? (Wright, The Mission of God, 195). In these texts, as God's mission nears its climax, we are able to see the answer to that question a bit more clearly.
God acts, once and for all, to depose evil and bring a hostile world to its knees. But how does he do so? Not through overwhelming force. Not through fire and fury. But through a bleeding, beaten, and Suffering Servant. This is how God deals with evil in the world.
God's mission continues today. The Suffering Servant, having been enthroned as Lord of heaven and earth, is now reclaiming a people from every tongue, tribe and nation, along with every square inch of creation. And he is doing so, mainly, through the church. But in confronting evil, the church must faithfully follow the example of its Lord. As Lesslie Newbigin put it:
It is in the measure that the church shares in the tribulation of the Messiah, in the conflict that occurs whenever the rule of God is challenged by other powers, that the church is also a bearer of hope. This suffering is not the passive acceptance of evil; it is the primary form of witness against it. It is the way in which we follow Jesus along the way of the cross. Jesus challenged the power of evil consistently right to the end. At the very end, when the limit was reached, he surrendered not to the power of evil, but into the hands of the Father. This final surrender is not defeat but victory. ... The church is enabled by the presence of the Spirit to share in that victory as it gives itself continually to be offered up in and through the Son to the Father. In this life the church is enabled to share in the victorious passion of the triune God. (The Open Secret, 1995, pp. 107-108)
Missional Connections for Our Context
A handful of recent books speak about a growing hostility to Christianity in the West (e.g., The Benedict Option by Rod Dreher, Strangers in a Strange Land by Charles Chaput, Out of the Ashes by Anthony Esolen). The nature and severity of this hostility is, of course, debatable. However, what is not debatable is this: Both the Bible and church history make clear that commitment to God is very often costly. Persecution is certain to follow in most contexts whenever God's people unequivocally decide that: "Jesus Christ, as he is attested to us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God whom we have to hear, and whom we have to trust and obey in life and in death" (The Barmen Declaration).
But, as we have seen, it is exactly through such uncompromising and costly faithfulness that God's purposes are accomplished. Following the example of the Suffering Servant, Raymond Lull said, "Missionaries will convert the world by preaching, but also through the shedding of tears and blood, and with great labor, and through a bitter death" (Stephen Neill, A History of Christian Missions, 1991, p. 117)
Biographical Summary
Scott Sward and his wife, Andrea, have served as missionaries in Cambodia with Evangelical Friends since 2009. They have three sons.
