| Roman Bronze As (pound) coin Obverse - head of Janus. Reverse - Prow of a ship |
| Roman Bronze As (pound) coin Obverse - head of Janus. Reverse - Prow of a ship |
“Jesus’ parables are like a wrapped
gift – part of the joy is in carefully unwrapping it, and being surprised by
the contents.” Those were the opening words of a children’s message given at
the church I attended and served in Seminary, and they’ve stuck with me all
these years later. There’s a number of things that stood out to me – first, the
casual assumption that kids will carefully unwrap a gift. I definitely was one
to tear the paper, throwing it aside, rather than carefully lifting the tape
and folding up the paper to use again. Next, the idea that parables, these “short
stories by Jesus” as AJ Levine puts it, that these needed unwrapping. How often
have you heard someone say, “the plain text of the Bible says…” or something to
that extent? If a parable needs to be unwrapped, then the “plain text” readers
are looking at the paper, and ignoring what’s in the box. But, it’s also
important to not only look at what’s in the box – the meaning – and ignore the
wrapper entirely. You can’t summarize the parables easily, ignoring how they’re
put together. The wrapping paper and box’s contents go together. Jesus’
parables are a master craft in setting up expectations, and then foiling them.
The parable of the Bridesmaids, for
instance, begins in the middle of the story. Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven
will be like ten young bridesmaids who took their lamps and went out to meet
the groom.” Jesus is relying on folks knowing what a wedding ceremony was like.
But our context for weddings is very different, and so it’s like we have an
extra, unintentional wrapping. A gift bag, pretty in its own right, but it’s
important to take the gift out of the bag.
For us, weddings are usually a
ceremony in a church or other special place, followed by a reception nearby,
and then the couple goes off on their own. We celebrate them, and they head off
on their way to either a honeymoon, or at least a time of newlyweds, setting up
their life together. But in Jesus’ day, the engaged couple would often live at
the bride’s home, and the wedding would take place there, once the engagement
was over. Then, the newlyweds would travel to the groom’s home, where his
family and friends, and maybe even the entire village, would spend around a
week with them, feasting and celebrating the wedding. It was a bit like the
honeymoon came to the couple – and was combined with the reception!
The parable of the lamp-wielding
women, then, starts in the middle of the story. The wedding has already
happened, but the couple hasn’t yet arrived for the feasting. Jesus sets us
amongst the expectant women – perhaps the family members, perhaps the friends –
and involves us in their preparations to welcome the couple. Five of the women
are wise, and five are foolish – and the only difference is the amount of oil
they bring with them.
Now, let’s unwrap a corner of the
parable – you’re probably expecting this to be about preparation. “Surely, Pastor
Lucus, the foolish ones are foolish because they didn’t recognize that they
didn’t have enough oil.” Certainly, that’s one way of reading the parable.
Except – no one knew how long the journey would be for the couple to arrive. The
way of the procession to the groom’s home was usually not by the most direct
route. Even if they both lived in the same village, they would wind out of the
cluster of homes, through the fields, over mountains, and then return. The
journey was a road trip – an intensive way to get to know your new spouse in
relative solitude. Plus, couples could get “distracted” on their journey, as
newlyweds are wont to do.
That’s all to say – there was no way
to know how much oil was needed. The expectation would be, perhaps, that you
would take turns with the watch – saving the oil to light all the lamps when
the couple arrived. But, our expectation of this is foiled, when in Jesus’
story, all ten light their lamps and fall asleep with their lamps burning. The
wise and the foolish together – so that it is only when the groom calls out
that the lamps are trimmed, oil re-added, and light shines forth again. At that
point, however, the foolish ones have run out of oil – and so are told to go
buy more from the marketplace.
This is another foiled expectation –
that the wise ones, who have extra oil, do not share with the foolish ones. “But
kindness! But generosity!” The only response to this is, “But relationship!” Let
me explain. The foolish ones don’t have oil to keep their lamps burning. This
doesn’t make them bad people, or even unworthy of being part of the party. Yet,
they feel bad – and don’t want to be seen as foolish by the wedding party.
Instead of greeting the couple, they run off to the market – and miss the
arrival that they had been so excited for!
Now, the parable that Jesus tells has
another reference in the wrapper that we should take a look at. By calling five
of the women wise, and five of them foolish, Jesus is calling back to the tradition
of the book of Proverbs, where Wisdom and Foolishness are personified as women.
A brief note before diving in here: the first nine chapters of Proverbs are
written as a letter from a father to a son, sometime around 1000 BCE. That
means that, well, its discussions of a woman as “something to get” are fairly
gross by our standards today, filled with a not-so-subtle “male gaze”. As it’s
put in Proverbs 31, “Who can find a woman of valor? She is worth far more than
rubies.” All that said, I still love these passages for all that they lift up
about wisdom – and I love that, even in the patriarchal worldview, the ideal of
wisdom was personified as a woman.
So, in Proverbs 9, we encounter a direct
comparison between Lady Wisdom and Dame Folly, a sort of Goofus-and-Gallant
story. Lady Wisdom calls to you to feast at a big banquet, and she has prepared
all the food, and even gone so far as to build the very house where the banquet
will be celebrated! The food’s all ready, the doors are wide open, and even the
wine has been pre-mixed with water, so that everyone who attends can feel warm
inside without losing their head to drunkenness.
Meanwhile, Dame Folly looks to trap
passersby into providing her the feast – she hasn’t prepared anything, but
intends to get the attendees at her feast to steal the food and drink. The
warning is that, on the surface, they look a lot alike – both Lady Wisdom and
Dame Folly invite you in with the simple phrase, “Come in with me!” We likely
expect Lady Wisdom to be like Glinda the Good, all shiny and bubbly, and Dame
Folly to be Elphaba the Wicked, cackling in the corner with her green skin –
but no – it’s not until you see how they act in private that the differences
are evident.
Too often, I think, we end up
continuing along the path that either Wisdom or Folly have set before us
without thinking. Is all that matters which you first heard call out to you? No
– we are called to use judgment about the character of those calling us in, and
leading us. It’s right to change course when you realize you’ve been duped by
someone who sounded ok at first, but then is encouraging you to steal and cheat
for their favor. Wisdom encourages those who attend her banquet to “begin to
live and learn to use good judgment.” In contrast, Folly’s guests “are in the
depths of the grave.”
So, let’s get back to the wrapped parable
of the light bringers. As it stands, the light from the five torches is
sufficient to greet the couple – there was clearly no need for five more! But if
the wise ones had divided what they had equally, there wouldn’t have been
enough light. I’m more and more drawn to the idea that the wise and foolish
aren’t all that far apart here. Yes, the foolish ones might have noticed the
extra oil – but they would have had enough if only they hadn’t left all ten
lamps burning while going to sleep. Then, if they hadn’t run off, but had stayed,
they could have been part of the reception – which is what the couple really
wanted! In trying to cover up a mistake, they end up making an even bigger one.
Here, then, is the gift under all the
wrapping – we all make mistakes. But what matters most is remaining connected
to each other and to God, rather than trying to hide those mistakes. You see,
throughout this parable, your expectation was for the oil to be the most
important part – but your expectation for oil was foiled! Ultimately, whether
you have a lot or a little, God is hoping to see you – to see you at the gate,
to see you at the feast, to see you in the light your lamp burns, or that of
your neighbor, if your lamp has run out.
The parable reminds us that life is a
series of foiled expectations, where what we thought was most important may not
be, and where our perceived mistakes can lead to unexpected revelations. As we
journey together on the Way of Christ, let us embrace the imperfections of our
own oil lamps – acknowledging that mistakes are not roadblocks, but opportunities
to learn and grow in love for God and each other. May we always prioritize
connection over perfection, finding our individual lights, whether flickering
or blazing, are all welcome at the feast.
May God’s grace fill your lamp with
the oil of faith. May the love of Jesus Christ prepare you for a
more-than-life-long commitment to the Source of Love. And may the light of the
Holy Spirit shine from you, guiding others to the joyous celebration of knowing
God. Amen.
November 5, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Psalm 34:1-5, 8-9, 11-19; Revelation 7:9-17
As I was preparing for the sermon this
week, I learned something interesting about the history of All Saints’ Day. We
Presbyterians have only officially celebrated this special church holiday since
1932! That’s the year the first Book of Common Worship was published, linking
the major Mainline denominations in the United States, and helping us follow
the same church calendar and common lectionary. Episcopalians, Lutherans,
Methodists, Reformed Church and Presbyterians, the UCC, the Disciples of
Christ, the American Baptists, and many Unitarians, Mennonites, and even some
Catholic churches agreed to work together, to follow the same calendar, and use
the same schedule of readings in Worship. Some of the churches are more flexible
about it than others, but at least there was unity in concept!
But why did Presbyterians not have an
All Saints Day before then? The primary reason is, of course, that most Protestants
had negative associations with the word “saints.” In the thirty years war and
the religious league wars of the Reformation, “saint” became associated with “Papist
Propaganda.” The Scots Confession, in particular, is filled with vitriol over
the Catholic church and the connection to saints. And, in fairness to the
Reformers, Protestant theology leaned heavily into the idea of the “Priesthood
of all Believers” – that there was no need for an intermediary between your
prayers and God. Instead of praying to the Saints and asking them to put a good
word in with God, Protestants believe we can ask God directly – and confess to
God directly, too.
But, while we have differing understanding
of what a saint is, the concept of telling stories of God’s action in our lives
is still strongly with us. Indeed, for us, a saint is not a separate, “almost-perfect”
person to emulate – but someone who is trying their best to follow God’s way. This
is how Protestants think about saints today – just as we have the “priesthood
of all believers”, to some extent, we have the “sainthood of all believers”,
too. Technically, the term sanctification means the lifelong process of
a believer making choices to live more in the Way that Jesus has taught us.
In the Moravian church - which is one
of the earliest Protestant denominations, predating even Luther – members are
encouraged to write spiritual autobiographies, noting especially places where
God’s presence was felt in their lives. Libraries full of these autobiographies
are available for members and non-members alike to read in Moravian communities
throughout the world. These are still a valuable resource to people to be
inspired by the lives, choices, and actions of those who have come before them.
In many ways, these stories of divine connection serve as windows into the “saints”
of the church – the ordinary people, whom have encountered the divine acting in
their lives. We’re all, in a way, saints alive!
We can also see this in ways that we teach
people to follow the faith, whether as children or as adults. Psalm 38, for example,
gives us wonderful advice, wherever we are in our faith journey. The Psalmist encourages
us to follow God’s way, by blessing and praising God, honoring God and being
radiant with joy in God’s presence. How does one honor God? By telling the
truth, turning from evil, seeking peace and going after it. Praise God, honor
God by always being truthful, turn from evil, and you will be radiant with God’s
joy. It’s a simple premise – and, truthfully, sanctification sounds simple on
the surface. Once you have committed to follow God’s Way, then follow it.
Of course, nothing is as easy as it
seems. But God promises to be there through it all – God was there before you
even committed to start on the path, and God will still be there holding you
when your baptism is complete and you transition to heaven. The Psalmist even
says, “the righteous have many problems, but the Lord delivers them from every one.” No matter what you
face in life, God is there with you. And when your journey is complete, you
will be with God, delivered from even the memory of evil, pain, and suffering!
Even when things are at their worst,
the Psalmist reminds us to “taste and see that the Lord is good – Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in God!”
Christians connect this with the communion table, of course – tasting the
goodness of God through the grace-filled sacrament. Beyond this connection,
though, is the idea that when you most need to take refuge with God, God will
provide for you. At the most basic needs, God provides. Food, drink and shelter
are wrapped in God’s love for you – with every taste you experience, you can
recognize God’s presence. To extend the metaphor, every bite of food is alive
with God’s presence. Every shelter from the wind and rain is alive with God’s
presence. Every breath you take is alive with God’s presence. To recognize this
is to lean into being a saint alive!
Of course, the saints alive today will
transition to the saints eternal and triumphant, as has always happened. John
the Revelator experienced something of this, through his dreams and visions during
his exile on Patmos:
I looked, and there was a great crowd that no one could
number. They were from every nation, tribe, people, and language. They were
standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They wore white robes and held
palm branches in their hands.
John notes that the people come from
everywhere, knowing in the divine vision what would be impossible to know at a glance.
They are beyond counting – and are varied in feature and language while still
being unified in their symbols of victory, the white robe and palm branch. It
testifies simultaneously to the universal scope of God’s love and salvation and
to God’s ultimate victory over pain, evil, and violence. It shows John – and through
his writing, us – that God’s plan of redemption extends far beyond whatever boundaries
we might impose on it. It dismantles notions of exclusivity, and leads us to
embrace a vision of God’s family – of the saints alive and saints beyond – who
transcend cultural, linguistic, and ethnic barriers. We saints alive are
blessed to be a part of this boundless reach of God’s grace, with all those who
have gone before us.
John’s revelation also includes a difficult
vision – that the white robes worn by the multitude are made white by being “washed
in the blood of the Lamb.” There are songs and songs that use this rather disturbing
description for all sorts of purposes, but I do not plan to do so today. Instead,
I want to note two things – first, that the process of sanctification
does not begin with anything we do or choose. Instead, it is God’s own actions
of salvation, of Jesus’ sacrificial love for all the world, that makes it
possible for us to be saints alive and saints beyond life. The “blood of the
Lamb” is the paradox of life and death – but ultimately, it is in God’s
initiating action in which we are saved. This is justification – the start
of the sanctification process. We are made right with God through God’s
own action, and not through our own. Yet, we still take the time to wash our
robes carefully – the profound spiritual cleansing and renewal through our
faith journey. We are called to respond to God’s grace and love with gratitude,
and doing our best to follow in God’s Holy Way.
The saints we remember on this All
Saints Day are people like us, with flaws, imperfections, and vulnerabilities.
But they opened themselves to God’s transformational love. They embraced their
calling with humility and trust, allowing God’s grace to work through them. And
through learning their stories, we are likewise called to share God’s love in
our lives.
How do we keep acting as saints alive?
By being vessels of God’s love, extending that love through a hand of welcome
and acceptance to all. By speaking truth and turning from evil. By telling our
stories – and showing how God has been at work in our lives, as we take refuge
in God when things are at their worst, and share the best of God’s radiant joy in
everything we do.
As we reflect on the saints who have gone
before us, and those who stand among us today, it is clear that God’s love is
active in the power of unity in diversity. Just as the many denominations found
common ground in the Book of Common Worship, despite their differing
understandings of what being a saint alive means to them, we are united in our
belief that God’s transformative love is at the heart of our faith.
After all, we see God’s love
transforming us in different ways, yet with the same core. Unity in God’s love
does not require uniformity in our experiences. Let us continue to tell our
unique stores of God’s work in our lives, for they are a testament to the richness
of God’s love. May we be inspired by the unity we find in God and the diversity
we cherish in one another. As we taste and see that the Lord is good, may we
continue to be transformed by God’s love. May we follow in Christ’s Way, as
saints alive. And may the Spirit guide us always to remember the lives of those
who have gone before us, as saints beyond, until we are united again in heaven
and the new life to come! Amen.
First of all, let’s set something
aside: no where in the Bible are these words referred to as the Ten
Commandments! “But, Pastor Lucus!” I hear you saying, “What about Exodus
34:28?” You are very clever to have the verse number memorized! I’m very
impressed. If you read it in the King James version, from 1611, it does, indeed
say, “And [Moses] was there with the Lord
forty days and forty nights; he did neither eat bread, nor drink water. And he
wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten commandments.” Most
English translations since then have used the same words, “the Ten
Commandments.” But the Hebrew word used is not the word for commandment! It is,
instead, the word for “things” or “words.”[1]
Asheret ha’Devarim. The ten words – the ten terms – the ten utterances –
the ten things. We do not have a word in English to hold all of what this
entails. However, Hebrew does have a word for commandment – and it’s one you’ve
likely heard before. Mitzvah is one part of the promise that God offers Isaac
in Genesis 26:4-5 – “I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in
the sky… because Abraham listened to my voice, kept my charge, my commandments,
my statutes, and my laws.”
Hebrew is not shy about using the
right word for the right thing. So, the ten commandments should properly be
called the ten words – and some English translations are starting to do this
now, despite the weight of tradition against it.
So, the ten words are something like
the overview of a contract, the terms and conditions of a website or app, or
maybe like the outline for the lessons to follow. After all, all of the ten
words are given greater detail later in Exodus and Deuteronomy. Like a list of
terms and conditions, we often just skim through them to the bottom and hit
“ok!” – but if we look carefully at them, we can learn quite a bit of what
God’s expectations are for those who follow God’s way.
The first thing that God establishes
is that this agreement is an exclusive one. If you agree to the conditions,
then you must worship God alone. And who is God? “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of
Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” The very first statement establishes who
God is – and what God has already done! Before the covenant has been
established, God has already rescued the people from slavery. And God doesn’t
want to have us confuse our actions with God’s actions. “You must have no other
gods before me! Do not make idols and worship them, when you know me! Without
me, evil and sin may take three or four generations to compound before it
resolves, if at all, whereas with me, you will have steadfast love and grace
for thousands of generations.”
So, first of the ten words – keep the
covenant exclusively with God. Don’t let the things we make take the place of
God in your life. Great – that’s easy, right? After all, the idol manufacturers
guild has long been out of business. While we may not make literal statues and
fall down to worship them, we certainly still make idols in the world. Maybe
it’s the stock market – worshipping the bulls and bears. Maybe it’s not of the
market, but offering devotion to work itself. “Nope, too busy working to care
for neighbor!” Maybe it’s a person – “Mister Big Man on Campus can do no
Wrong!” – or maybe it’s a group – “I have to have the solid gold toothbrush
model 2050, since it’s the only one recommended by the American Dental
Lobbyists!” – or maybe it’s an idea that you worship – “The pursuit of
happiness is more important than any other thing. If I’m not happy, no one can
be.”
Following up on that idea, of not
letting anything get in the way of worshipping God, the second of the ten words
is, “don’t use God’s name lightly.” In ancient Egypt, where the Hebrew people
had spent centuries, oaths and promises were sealed by invoking the name of the
deities that were believed to ensure compliance. “By Thoth, I will not reveal
this secret process for making beer.” But, of course, the Hebrew people
followed only one God, so it became a reflex to offer oaths and promises in
God’s name. The second word, then, is a rejoinder to think about what you
promise in God’s name.
Of course, this means not using God’s
name as part of profanity – but also to not claiming to represent God while
acting against what God has taught. Don’t use God’s name to justify harmful
actions that go against the principles of love, compassion, and justice. Don’t
use God’s name to make yourself look pious, exploiting your religious ties for
personal gain. And, following directly in the tradition of the Hebrew people,
don’t use God’s name to make your own truth seem more genuine.
So, the ten words so far teach us that
the covenant is exclusively with God, and we are not to invoke God’s name
lightly. The third word reminds us to rest, remembering that God has freed us
from endless work. “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt, but the Lord your God brought you out of there.”
And the Sabbath Rest is not just for those in the covenant directly – but, as
far as it is in your power, to offer rest to all, including foreigners,
employees, and even the animals! Humans are not meant for endless grinding, but
should instead emulate God, who takes time to rest. Maximum productivity is not
the end goal – instead, we are called to balance work, study, and rest!
Worship only God. Think before using
God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. The first three
words of the covenant with Moses and the people of God.
Jesus encouraged the keeping of these
words, despite those then and now who insist that Christians don’t have to do
anything from the “dusty old testament.” Indeed, Jesus specifically said,
“Don’t even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the
Prophets. I haven’t come to do away with them but to fulfill them.” Jesus took
the covenant seriously, and extended the direct meaning of the words. He taught,
again and again, that it was love that was at the very core of God’s covenant
with us. Part of exclusively keeping the covenant with God is to recognize when
our actions against each other prevent us from carrying out God’s work in the
world. In Matthew 5:23-24, Jesus says, “If you bring your gift to the altar,
and there remember that you have caused harm to your sibling, drop what you’re
doing and go make things right – then, return and worship.” He’s saying, if you
have caused harm to someone, that making that harm right, reconciling, healing,
is of primary importance. It emulates how God has treated us. Just as God
forgives us, frees us, and loves us, we are called to love, free, and forgive
each other. That is how we keep God first – by remembering and honoring what
God has done for us!
Today, we have discussed the first
three of the ten words. Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep
Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. These are the words that talk
about our relationship with God – but the other seven deal with our
relationship with each other. We’ll dive into those next week! For now, let us take
time to worship and to rest!
May God free you from the burdens you
carry. May Christ lead you in forgiving others. And may the love of the Holy
Spirit shine throughout your life! Amen.
Today, we are continuing the 2-part
miniseries on the Ten Words. Last week, we talked about the way that the Ten
Words – also known as the Ten Commandments, or the Ten Statements – are
sometimes divided into two parts – God’s relationship with humanity, and our
relationship with each other. The first three words, in plain English, are:
Worship only God. Think before using God’s name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to
all in your power.
These ten words are unique among
covenants with humanity in the Bible, because they are the only ones described
as having been not just given by God, but written by God directly on tablets of
stone. First, according to Exodus 19 and 24, Moses hears the Words and more
from God, brings them to the Hebrew people, and returns with the collective
will to agree to the covenant. Then, seventy-four leaders of the people –
elders of the tribes – go up, and see God’s feet, resting on a floor of Lapis
Lazuli – the bluest stone known in the ancient world, something like the stone
on the bulletin cover this morning. Moses is called before God, ascending into
the cloud, and the people are left below for forty days, after already agreeing
to the covenant. That’s when Moses returns to find them worshipping a golden calf
idol, and throws down the stones that God provided him, shattering them on the
ground, representing the fact that the covenant had already been broken. But God
calls him up again, and he returns with the stones containing the essence of
the covenant, the ten words. Jewish tradition states that the stones were from
the foundation of God’s throne, made of the bright blue lapis lazuli, the color
of the sky itself. This is why the tassels on Jewish prayer robes are blue – to
remind the people of the blue stone of the covenant. It’s why Lapis Lazuli was
part of the garments worn by the chief priests. And it’s why the flag of Israel
today uses sky blue as part of its design.
With that background, let’s turn to the
fourth of the words written on the tablet: “Honor your father and your mother, exactly
as the Lord your God requires, so that your life will be long and so that things
will go well for you on the fertile land that the Lord your God is giving you.”
I wanted to read out the whole text, as it’s often just summarized “honor your
father and your mother” as though the connection back to God, long life, and
the land is just incidental. Like the previous statement (for Sabbath), God
provides the reasoning behind this one – honor those who have gone before you
to show honor to God, and to make things better for you going forward.
Number four, then, is a cross-over Word
– a transition from relationship with God to relationship with each other. In
honoring your parents, you show that you are willing to keep the covenant that
God is establishing. It is, in essence, a call to gratitude – to show thankfulness
for those that have raised you, supporting them in turn when they need it. It
is a reminder that the blessed ties that bind us together should begin with
family – and it’s also why the genealogies appear throughout the Bible. Being
able to trace your family back was a way of showing honor, and recognizing your
place in the world as a part of God’s chosen people.
Now, about the word “honor” – in Hebrew,
this word is kavod, the same word used for glory. But, it’s meaning is
more direct – it means give weight to, like a thick woolen robe gives weight to
the person bearing it. Glory and honor are recognition of the weight or burden
of those who have lived long lives and carry the experiences with them. The
elders of the families and tribes of Israel were chosen based on the weight of
their experiences – often the eldest in the tribe would fill the role, but actual
age wasn’t the most important consideration. The fourth Word, then, is about taking
what your parents say with the proper weight – they won’t always be right, of
course, but they’re right more often than kids tend to think! In honoring your
parents, and teaching your children to honor their parents, the mantle of
wisdom gains weight and continues to pass on through the generations, adding to
the long life of all to follow. And ultimately, it is God’s great gift, of wisdom
handed down, that allows the land to be worked properly and productively.
Give weight to what your parents say,
and continue to pass the wisdom on. Great! Now, we’re into the words that
actually are single words in Hebrew. These three words are Murder, Adulter, and
Steal – and all carry the prefix of negation, lo – becoming not-murder,
not-adulter, not-steal. And yes, “adulter” is a single word and concept, rather
than the cumbersome, “commit adultery” that we have in English. Unlike every
Word before, there’s no explanation for these. They are meant to stand on their
own, with recognition of their importance.
But, we run into a problem of
translation, again. In English, “murder” has a connotation of premeditated,
illegal killing. The Hebrew word here, ratsach, has a much wider range of
meaning. It comes from a root word that means “dash to pieces,” and it is used
for violence of humans against each other – whether intentional or not, and whether
or not the violence has been sanctioned by law, as in an execution. So,
execution, manslaughter, and murder – all in a single word. It’s clear that the
ancient Hebrew people also struggled with this – what does it mean to be called
to war? To accidental death? Wrestling with the interpretation is something
that we must continue to do today – but I tend to prefer “not-murder” as the
intention here. Not killing each other, I think we can agree, is a good rule to
live by.
In contrast, not-adulter and not-steal
are pretty straightforward. Together with non-murder, these three words are about
the actions we should not take. Don’t murder, don’t cheat on your
spouse, or cause another’s spouse to be unfaithful, and don’t take what isn’t
yours. The last of these, not-steal has another component in Hebrew that is
missing in English – it also means “not-deceive.” Don’t take what doesn’t
belong to you, yes, not even by deception.
That provides a great transition into the
next Word – don’t bear false witness, as it’s traditionally rendered. A more
literal reading would be, “do not respond with evil testimony against your neighbor.”
This includes both making up a lie in court – the way we tend to think of
bearing witness – but also the sense of don’t lie to your neighbor outside of
court, too. Don’t speak evil words is my summary of this one, hopefully getting
both senses together.
Give weight to your parents, and carry
on their wisdom. Never participate in murder, adultery, or theft and deception.
Don’t speak evil words.
That leaves us with two more to go – and
these are more delicate. Now, instead of the actions and words, we’re dealing
with sin of the heart and mind. “Don’t covet your neighbor’s wife and don’t
covet your neighbor’s house or field, or servants, or ox, donkey, or anything
that belongs to your neighbor.” I’m going to deal with these two words
separately, but make this note first: in Deuteronomy, the words for coveting of
a neighbor’s spouse and coveting a neighbor’s things are different words. Even
in the ancient world, the difference between people and things was clear. But
we’ll come back to that in a moment – first, let’s talk about coveting.
Covet is an interesting word – we understand
it, I think, as related to want or desire, but it’s rare that we use it in everyday
conversation. Wanting and desiring something are a part of being human, though –
we want and desire all sorts of things, and that’s not a bad thing, nor is it
against the covenant. We might want to eat food, or want a place to live, or
want a meaningful relationship. We might desire to change the way we look or feel,
or a better job, or time away from the daily grind. But coveting goes beyond desire
or want. It’s not seeing a neighbor’s new car, and thinking, “Hey, I really like
that EV – I want to get one myself!” Instead, coveting is an intense, unchecked
and envious desire for something specific that belongs to someone else. It
often comes with a sense of entitlement and disregard for rights, feelings, or possessions
of others.
Instead of “I want to get one like
that for myself,” coveting would be thoughts like, “I want THAT exact car, and
I’ll do whatever it takes to have it, even if it means taking it from my
neighbor.”
Not surprisingly, coveting something
is a very bad idea. In many cases of theft, the criminal had been stewing over
the specific object for some time, cultivating an internal sense where taking the
thing was justified, because the criminal thought it “would be better taken care
of” by themself. The Word against coveting things is a warning against
cultivating that depth of desire – recognizing it as a trap, and being able to
turn your thoughts in a different direction.
Now, I mentioned that Deuteronomy uses
two different words for covet in these two of the ten Words. It’s a subtle
distinction, but the Hebrew for coveting a neighbor’s things means something
like, “desire to take possession of” whereas the Hebrew for coveting a neighbor’s
spouse is closer to “desire to take delight or pleasure in.” Some versions
render this as “lust after” – which is fine in this context, but falls apart
when the same word is used in Proverbs 1:22 – “and the scoffers delight
themselves in scoffing” or in Song of Songs 2:3 – “in his shade, I took great
delight and sat down.”
Add to this that, of course, there is
no gender-neutral word for “spouse” in ancient Hebrew, so the Hebrew reads eshet,
meaning woman or wife. However, the implication is clear – no matter the
genders involved, “don’t crave delight with your neighbor’s spouse”.
Worship only God. Think before using God’s
name. Keep Sabbath, and give rest to all in your power. Give weight to your
parents, and carry on their wisdom. Never participate in murder, adultery, or
theft and deception. Don’t speak evil words. Don’t crave delight with your
neighbor’s spouse. Don’t covet what your neighbor has.
As we reflect on these Ten Words, we
see how they form the framework for a life of righteousness, compassion, and reverence
for God. They guide us in navigating our relationship with the Divine and with
one another. Through these commandments, we’re reminded of the weight of our
actions, the importance of gratitude, and the value of wisdom passed down
through generations.
May we carry the wisdom of these
commandments in our hearts, living them out in our daily interactions. Let us honor
our parents, respect one another’s lives and property, speak truth and guard
against envy. In doing so, we not only honor the covenant with God, but also
contribute to the flourishing of our communities.
May the Ten Words be a beacon,
illuminating our path toward a life lived in accordance with God’s gracious
plan. May we find strength we need to love and serve one another, thus
fulfilling the sacred covenant between God and humanity. Amen.
[1]
I continue to find it fascinating that the Hebrew understanding of words and
things are contained in a single word! (עֲשֶׂרֶת הַדְּבָרִים)
I very much appreciate the way this
saying illustrates the need to care for small things in order to affect bigger
things – even though I struggle with this myself. As a person with Attention
Deficit Disorder, I can either focus on the very large or the very small, but
trying to hold both means losing both. It’s a good, humbling reminder, though,
that I can’t do everything on my own. Fortunately, none of us have to do
everything alone – for God is always with us, encouraging us to support each
other.
In 2020, a number of small things went
wrong to create a great disaster in the world. At the beginning of the year, a BBC/Netflix
documentary crew was in Ethiopia to film the beginnings of the year’s gregarious
locust swarm. A combination of warm and wet weather had let the swarms grow
more than usual – and the 2019 civil war in Yemen meant that there were fewer
containment efforts for the swarm. When the pandemic hit, the documentary crew left
their cameras and drones, and coordinated with local Kenyans to get this
footage of the beginnings of the locust swarm, on the march and beginning its
flight. [2]
[BBC/NETFLIX - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAI6W2TOkh4]
This super-swarm of billions of locusts
is, fortunately, rare. It’s the largest recorded in over 70 years, and finally
ended due to rainstorms in the Himalayas weighing down the locusts and
preventing them from continuing beyond the mountains. But seeing these insects
changes how we hear the book of the prophet Joel these thousands of years
later. Joel, it seems, is preaching in the aftermath of a locust swarm that has
devastated Israel after the return from exile. This terrible event has
destroyed entire fields of grain and grapes, meaning that there is not enough
food and wine for the people, nor enough even to make sacrifices of food at the
temple. The people of the land are justifiably worried – how will they survive?
How will they survive as a family? As a nation? Will God forgive them for not
being able to make the sacrifices at the temple?
Yet, after reminding the people of the
terrible destruction they have faced, Joel brings good news: God promises to
restore all that has been lost and more.
“Rejoice, and be glad… for God has given you the early rain
in its season and sent down showers for you, both early and late, as
previously. The granaries are full of grain, the vats spill over with new wine
and oil. I will make up for you the years the swarming locust consumed – the jumper,
the finisher, the chewer – my mighty force that I sent against you. You will
have all the food you need to be satisfied...”[3]
God’s action, in seeing the destruction and
pain of the people, is not to turn God’s back on the people – but instead to
reach out and give exactly what is needed to restore them. Yes, the loss of crops
is terrible – but God sends the early rains to replace them quickly. When God
says, “I repay you for the years the swarming locust consumed,” this is language
that in Hebrew is used to settle debts; it’s like a divine insurance payout.
Now, when Joel refers to the pouring
out of the spirit, he’s making a reference to other parts of the story. In Ezekiel
39, God says, “I will not hide my face anymore from them, when I pour out my
Spirit upon the house of Israel.” And even earlier, in Numbers 11, Moses
says, “Would that all the Lord’s
people were prophets, that the Lord
would put his Spirit on them!” Joel leans into these thoughts, noting that
all who worship God have direct access to the Spirit.
But, Joel says, times won’t always be
good. God’s vision and dreams of the Spirit show that things are looming on the
horizon. Armies. Blood. Fire. But despite this devastation, Joel promises that
there is safety, subtly referencing Proverbs 18:10: “Adonai’s name is a strong
tower; the righteous run into it and become inaccessible.”
Joel, then, shows that God’s promises
of restoration hold in times of bounty and difficulty. In fact, it could be thought
of as a positive version of the “For want of a Nail” saying:
This promise of restoration that Joel
makes is, of course, picked up in the book of Acts, when Peter refers to it
taking place again in connection with the events of Pentecost. Peter explicitly
extends the pouring out of Spirit on all who worship God. You see, we are all
connected with God. We strengthen that connection any time we worship, any time
we pray, any time we listen for discernment, any time we help, any time we hope.
For God wants us to care for each other, and in so doing, praise God through
the living of our lives! This is the praise of the psalmist: “They will
speak of the power of your awesome deeds; I will declare your great
accomplishments… The Lord is
merciful and compassionate, very patient, and full of faithful love.”[4]
We know today that locust swarms
happen because of rain at the wrong time and place. But rain also is the way
that swarms end – when the wings of the locusts are heavy with rain, they
cannot continue. Locusts eat the grain of now, but fertilize the ground as they
go, providing a boost to the crops when they are replanted and regrow. God
pours out the promise of restoration even in the midst of the great swarm – and
God pours out the promise of restoration into each and every one of us, causing
us to dream dreams of hope, and envision visions of community. Let us always
keep our hearts open to God’s guidance – so that we can know when a nail is
needed, and see that God has already provided it.
May God pour out the Spirit on you,
that you may dream dreams of hopeful possibility. May God restore to you, in great
and small, that which you need to survive. And may Christ lead you always,
reminding you that you are loved by God and by God’s children, now and always.
Amen.
Forgiveness is hard. Even though we regularly
pray, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” – we struggle with
forgiving debts, both fiscal and emotional. Actually – you may be aware that
there are two versions of the Lord’s Prayer in the Bible, in Matthew and Luke’s
Gospels. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus uses the same word twice - “Opheilema”
– a Greek word meaning “a failure to pay that which is due” – a debt. Luke uses
“Opheilema” and “Hamartia” in the same sentence. Hamartia is
literally an arrow shot that misses the mark, figuratively the tragic flaw of
human character – and is the word we usually translate as “sin.” Luke’s version,
then, states, “Forgive us our sin in the same way we forgive our debtors.”
If you
haven’t thought about what the Lord’s Prayer is actually saying in a while,
that may be a big moment. In the prayer, we are asking God to forgive us in the
same manner, or to the same extent, that we forgive others. That puts so much
weight on our actions – I know I’ve thought about this passage before with
worry – “What am I still holding on to that I should let go of? Will God
forgive me if I haven’t forgiven everything?” When Peter asks Jesus, “How often
will my sibling sin against me, and I will forgive him? Up to seven times?” it’s
like he’s asking the same question – how often do I need to forgive someone else?
Jesus, of course, responds with the
famous, “not just seven times, but seventy and seven times.” – whether he means
77 or 490 times, the purpose is the same – it’s not going to be an easily
tracked number. You’re supposed to forgive, not to reach an arbitrary standard,
but just simply forgive.
Then Jesus tells a story. A parable –
a box of meaning to be unlocked again and again. In the story, a man owes a
king over 10,000 talents of silver – an impossible debt to pay, as that would
take over 50,000 years of work at minimum wage to even earn that stated amount.
The king calls in his marker, the man begs for patience, and the king
mercifully forgives the debt – releasing the man from the threat of slavery for
his entire family. Newly released of his impossible debt, the man shakes down
someone who owes him 100 days wages – and receives the same response, have
mercy, and I will pay it in time. Instead of forgiving this much less amount of
debt, the man has his debtor thrown into prison. The king hears about this, and
applies the same logic to the man, throwing him into prison permanently.
I don’t know about you, but on the
face of it, this story is terrifying to me. At first blush, I feel like the man
was incredibly lucky to have that debt forgiven in the first place. But then I
think – just how did such a debt come to be? Is it possible that the whole point
of the king forgiving the debt was to say that there was never such a debt in
the first place? That we begin with grace, a recognition that yes, we will mess
up, we will miss the mark – but that God wants us to try again and again, and
not give up.
Jewish New Testament scholar AJ Levine
reminds us that Jesus uses the word “debt” deliberately: “It goes directly to
the pocketbook;” she writes, “It says, don’t hold a debt. If someone needs, you
give. The call is for economic justice.”[1]
Let’s go back to the Lord’s Prayer for
a moment. What if God’s grace isn’t contingent on our forgiveness? What if,
instead, we are asking God to help us forgive in the same way that we have been
forgiven? “Forgive us our debts, as you help us forgive our debtors.” What if,
instead of excoriating ourselves for the ways we have missed the mark, we recognize
the grace-filled possibilities of forgiving others and trying again and again?
One of the earliest stories of God’s
grace is from the book of Exodus. We know the story of Moses: “Let my people go!”
he shouts to Pharoah again and again, and Pharoah doesn’t relent. Finally,
Pharoah agrees, once God’s power to affect even him cannot be denied – but once
the Hebrew people are underway, Pharoah reneges on his promise, and sends his
armies to force the people to return to slavery and oppression. The Egyptian armies
catch up with the Hebrew people in a terribly restricted place – backed against
a sea, with no visible crossing. During the night, God’s very presence burns
between the groups, keeping the Hebrew people safe as the winds blow in, separating
the waters and creating a path of dry land. The Hebrew people walked safely
across, when the pre-dawn light reveals them, and the Egyptians start to chase
them.
God interferes directly, turning the wheels
of the chariots and making their progress difficult. Some of the Egyptians
recognize that God is present, and retreat, calling for others to do the same.
But those who continued on, determined to enslave and oppress, to follow the
evil orders of their superior – they end up caught in the floods as the waters
rush back to their usual place. After that, the Pharoah sends no more armies
after the Hebrew people.
At first glance, this hardly seems a
story of grace. God’s actions seem more like vengeance or retribution than grace.
Reading strictly, we might at first say, shouldn’t the Hebrew people have
forgiven the Egyptians for breaking their word, and meekly come back with the
armies? But of course not. As Debie Thomas writes, “Forgiveness isn’t
pretending that an offense doesn’t matter… or assuming that because God is
merciful, God isn’t grieved and angered by injustice.”[2]
Forgiveness in this story is seen in fleeing rather than fighting. In trusting
God to lead the people beyond the need for violence, and to continue to protect
them.
God also acts to protect the Egyptians
who listen. Turning the wheels to prevent the chariots from continuing causes
at least some of the Egyptians to turn around, to recognize that they are acting
in the wrong. The only ones who perish are those who foolishly follow Pharoah’s
orders, even when it is clear that those orders are evil and against God’s
will.
God sees graceful possibilities in a
situation that seems to be impossible. Note that here, too, there is no
immediate healing or reconciliation. The Egyptians that survived by running
away do not make things right with the Hebrew people. Instead, they go their
separate ways. Forgiveness here isn’t the end of the journey – but the beginning.
At many points during the wilderness wandering, the Hebrew people want to turn
around and return to Egypt – but they gradually recognize that God is leading
them in a better direction. Forgiveness – Grace – is not quick and easy. It is
a process that takes time, but gradually – oh so gradually! – brings an end to
the weight of hatred and bitterness that prevents us from following God’s way.
When Jesus tells us to forgive seventy
and seven times, he’s telling us to look for graceful possibilities. To bring forward
love, instead of resentment. I love how Debie Thomas puts this, too: “If I’m
consumed with my own pain, if I’ve made injury my identity, if I insist on
weaponizing my well-deserved anger in every interaction I have with people who
hurt me, then I’m drinking poison, and the poison will kill me long before it does
anything to my abusers. To choose forgiveness is to release myself from the
tyranny of my bitterness… To cast my hunger for healing deep into Christ’s
heart, because healing belongs to him, and he’s the only one powerful enough to
secure it.”
We respond to God’s grace – amazing,
awesome, awe-inspiring grace – by being free to offer grace to others. By
seeing new, graceful possibilities for restorative justice – a way forward that
God provides to heal both oppressed and oppressor.
Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran pastor in
Denver, describes mistreatment and sin as a chain that binds us unwillingly.
But her words about breaking that chain are incredible: “Maybe retaliation or
holding onto anger about the harm done to me doesn’t actually combat evil. Maybe
it feeds it. Because in the end, if we’re not careful, we can actually absorb
the worst of our enemy, and at some level, start to become them. So what if
forgiveness, rather than being a… way to say, ‘It’s okay,’ is actually a way of
wielding bolt-cutters and snapping the chains that link us? What if it’s
saying, ‘What you did was so not okay, I refuse to be connected to it anymore.’?”[3]
So, my friends – what if you forgave
the person that irritates you so much? Or the person that owes you a debt that
cannot be repaid? Or even one that can? What if all of us, together, agree to
forgive each other. What graceful possibilities would emerge then?
May you be forgiven and filled with
God’s grace. May you forgive, and be filled with Christ’s love. May you see how
forgiveness can change the world, and see the Holy Spirit at work, breaking the
chains of evil, and bringing God’s good plan to fruition. Amen.
September 3, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
After spending the last week with
COVID, I hope you’ll forgive me for recording this sermon, rather than delivering
it in person. Early in the week, my voice did that thing where, due to the
build up of fluids in my head and throat, it dropped about two and a half
octaves for a while. I rarely sound like myself when that happens – instead,
becoming Basso Profundo for a day or two. It’s kind of fun, but I’ve had loved
ones not recognize my voice – and that can be disturbing. Still, I was reminded
that the last time it happened, it was just before I went to seminary – I was
working for a country music radio station in Detroit at a grand event – the
Downtown Hoedown. As part of my job, I was expected to escort country musicians
through Campus Martius to reach their staging area. The crowds were thick, and
though my voice was deeper as a result of spending several days outside in
heat, haze, and smoke, it didn’t carry as far. I found myself standing up
differently – straighter, making my presence known physically instead of
verbally. I’m not normally an intimidating guy, but somehow, the deep but quiet
voice meant that people did, in fact get out of my way, and the way was clear
for the musicians behind to follow.
It was effective, I suppose – so much
so that my boss pulled me aside, and reassigned me. Apparently, I was intimidating
guests to the event. No matter how effective and efficient it was to clear a
path that way, in the end, it was making the experience worse for guests, and
thus I had inadvertently become a stumbling block to the whole thing.
It should be no surprise, then, that I
identify with Peter in Gospel of Matthew – he leaps in, full of enthusiasm, and
is praised for it. Jesus gives him the nickname “Rocky” – “Cephas” in Aramaic,
“Petros” in Greek – for being the first to leap to the conclusion that Jesus is
the Messiah. Jesus says, “I tell you that you are Rocky. And I’ll build my church
on this rock. The gates of the underworld won’t be able to stand against it.”[1]
Very high praise indeed! I imagine Simon “the Rock” BarJonah felt like he was
on top of the world, looking down on creation[2]!
That’s when Jesus starts to talk about the traumatic and difficult future he’s
facing as the Messiah, and Peter jumps right in again – “God forbid it, Lord! This
won’t happen to you!”
Jesus tells Ol’ Stoneface, “Get behind
me, Adversary. You are a rock that could make me stumble, for you are not
thinking God’s thoughts, but human thoughts.”[3]
From being named by Jesus as the rock
on which the church will be built – to being called the Adversary. All in the
course of 5 verses. Now, Peter’s crashed down hard, leaving a metaphorical hole
in the sand. He’s got a few options: he could dig the hole deeper, he could try
to climb out on his own, or he could stay in the hole for a moment and wait to
see what Jesus says next.
Fortunately, Peter chooses that moment
to actually stay quiet and listen to what Jesus has to say: “All who want to
come after me must say no to themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.
All who want to save their lives will lose them. But all who lose their lives
because of me will find them.”[4]
In this specific context – after Jesus
acknowledges Simon Peter’s messianic statement, and then rebukes Peter for
asking God to forbid Jesus’ death and resurrection – Jesus is making the point
that Jesus is not taking the easy path, and if you’re following him, you, too,
will not be taking the easy path. It would be easy to puff yourself up as a
follower of Jesus – “Look at how righteous I am! Look at how holy!” but it is
much harder to follow in the way that he leads us. A way of humility. Of
careful care for others. Of giving your life to make the lives of many others
better. Not of bold swagger, of self-aggrandizement, of prosperity and ease.
Jesus’ way is the way of love. Paul
attempts to dive into the specifics of what this love looks like at many points
in his letters – most strikingly in I Corinthians 13, but also in his letter to
the Romans. “Love should be shown without pretending,” Paul writes, “Love each
other like the members of your family. Don’t hesitate to be enthusiastic – be
on fire in the Spirit as you serve the Lord!... Consider everyone as equal, and
don’t think that you’re better than anyone else.”[5]
You see, in the days of the early
church, the world had fallen victim to an illness of spirit – an illness of
pride. It’s an illness that continues to affect us today, wherein one person
may look at another, and say, “you are beneath my notice,” or, “I am better
than you are.” Conversely, some people might look at another and say, “You are
much better than I am, so I can do anything to you and yours to get even.” This
illness goes against what God planned for us – to be loved in unique ways, but
all loved nevertheless. The treatment for such an illness is not a greater
separation, hatred, even war – the treatment is instead what all of us need
when we are sick. Rest. Nourishment. Care.
Yes, there are times when physical
isolation is necessary. But the goal isn’t to be isolated permanently – but
instead to be connected spiritually even when physically separated, until the
illness is past, and we can be reunited again! When Paul writes, “Don’t pay
back anyone for their evil actions with evil actions of your own… but defeat
evil with good,”[6] this is
exactly what he’s getting at. Heaping evil upon evil just increases evil – the
only way to overcome it truly is to bring goodness where there is animosity.
Just as we nurture our bodies back to
health, we respond to evil with practical steps. First, we can forgive each
other, offering grace without payment, just as God has offered us forgiving
grace. In this way, we overcome the evil of resentment – helping to see each
other as truly beloved fellow children of God. Next, we can seek reconciliation
– promoting healing and peace in the community of people we know directly. This
is like bringing Gatorade or noodle soup to loved ones – healing in both body
and spirit. Lastly, we can continue to advocate for justice through peaceful
means, just as Christ has taught us. This is a way of both improving the health
of the wider community, and helps to inoculate against the illness of pride
returning again. Using your voice to advocate for those whom society is
determined not to listen to – that’s a powerful medicine of healing goodness.
Through it all, we pray for one
another – not telling God what to do, who to save, and so on, but asking God to
hold us together. In prayer, we listen for God’s call, seek the healing and
forgiveness that we need, and practice offering that same healing and
forgiveness to others in our lives. Sometimes, we need to step back, and
realize that we’re looking at others as being better or worse than ourselves –
and we need to hear God calling us back to take up the cross and follow Jesus. We
may need a time of rest and recovery – or we may need to offer that time to
others with grace and love. Sometimes, that insight may come from others, too –
be sure to listen when others tell you that you may be taking things too far. And
don’t be afraid to reach out to others in this way, too.
My friends, may you be filled with the
grace of God, the love of Christ, and the healing of the Holy Spirit, overcoming
evil with good in your life and in the world. Amen.