Kohelet: Eccentric Sage of Pleasure and Pain (Ecclesiastes 1;2,12-14; 2:18-23 & Luke 12:13-21)

"Kohelet: Eccentric Sage of Pleasure and Pain"

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14, 2:18-23 and Luke 12:13-21

Church of the Nativity, Episcopal

August 4, 2013

“Vanity of vanities...

all is vanity.”

“Absurdity of absurdities...

all is absurd.”

“Transience. Transience...

all is transient.”

The Christian tradition does not have much to say about the book of Ecclesiastes. This is not so hard to believe as I would wager that most contemporary Christians continue to avoid it. How are preachers to give their people good vibes with an opening verse like, “Vanity of vanities... all is vanity.” How are we supposed to pump people up saying, “Absurdity of absurdities!... All is absurd!”?

The Teacher, or Kohelet in the Hebrew, is the most eccentric of the sages. The more popular Old Testament book of wisdom--the book of Proverbs--was written by wise men that are more in tune with our religious sensibilities. The sayings that are found in Proverbs are often profound, even at times surprising, but they never shock the pious. Kohelet, on the other hand, is provocative. One can imagine people walking away from a session with him shaking their heads, no longer certain just what to believe. Kohelet is the sage of shock and awe--in your face, offensive, profound.        

With that said, for obvious reasons this book has had a special appeal to young people. Some of you may have seen a CNN article this week about why young people--or, Millennials--are quitting the church. Rachel Held Evans, the author of the piece, says that one of reasons youth are staying away is because of the inauthenticity in church culture. There may be something to her diagnosis, maybe not, but if there’s one thing the book of Ecclesiastes has never been faulted for it’s lack of authenticity.  

Shameless Persistence (Luke 11:1-13)

"Shameless Persistence"
Luke 11:1-13 (and Genesis 18:20-32)

Church of the Nativity Episcopal Church

July 28, 2013

I don’t pray as often as I should. After reading passages of Scripture like this morning’s Gospel lesson, I sometimes wonder why I don’t. I suspect that my own laziness has something to do with it. Some mornings I simply do not want to get out of bed in the morning until I absolutely have to. I also think that my love of distraction keeps me away from prayer. I don’t think I fully realized this until I got a smartphone. Whenever boredom threatens, I pull out my Android to fend off the boredom monster. Whenever I start to pray, whatever might be happening on the internet, Facebook, or Youtube suddenly becomes ten times more interesting. Finally, my propensity to be a busy-body also gets in the way of me and God. I’m always in so much of a rush running out the door in the morning, that I simply don’t take the time to have a conversation with God--to be still before the Lord.  

But there also times that I’m not lazy or bored, distracted or busy, and yet I’m still unwilling to set time aside to bring myself before the Savior. Over the course of this week I’ve wondered about this. Is my limited prayer life due to an implicit lack of faith? Is it that I don’t believe in the power or the efficacy of prayer? Unfortunately, I think the answer is often yes. To put it in the words of this this morning’s lesson, sometimes I simply do not trust that if I ask, I’ll receive, that if I search, I’ll find, that if I knock, the door will be opened to me.      

Well, if you couldn’t guess it from the opening, this morning’s Gospel lesson is about prayer. It is made up of three parts: (1) a model prayer (2) a parable on prayer (3) and some sayings on prayer.  I’m going to take a brief look at all three parts and hopefully we’ll find out more about the character of our God and just what exactly is his attitude toward the prayers of his beloved, namely you and me.

The Cross is Sufficient (Colossians 1:15-28)

“The Cross is Sufficient”

Colossians 1:15-28

St. Thomas Memorial Episcopal Church

7.21.13

This morning’s lesson from the Epistle to the Colossians is dense. It’s jam-packed with what you might call theological gold. I’m only going to focus on one of its themes. In fact, I’m going to narrow it down to one verse--verse twenty-four.  In it the author of Colossians writes that in his suffering, Paul is “completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.”  A few years ago I heard a famous Christian public figure at a large gathering say that this passage is “almost heresy.”  The people listening to this speaker looked confused.  “How can you say it’s ‘almost heresy?’  It’s Paul. It’s the Bible.”  I was right there with them wondering the same thing.

Over the course of the two thousand year history of the Church, Christians have interpreted this passage—that Paul was “completing what is lacking in the Christ’s afflictions”—in different ways.  Some have come to the conclusion that Paul—and, therefore, we—“complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” through our good works.  Christ’s afflictions—or the Cross—gets us most of the way toward peace with God, but we—of course—have to do our part to bridge the remaining gulf.

I still hear people talk like this today.  In the hospital whenever I talk to a patient who does not have much time to live, they tell me that they hope they’ve lived a good enough life to make it to heaven when they die.  This is the way of salvation by grace plus works.  It’s not that any of these patients would deny the power of the Cross, they simply believe—to put it in the words of the text at hand—that they are “completing what is lacking in Christ’s affliction” by living a good life—by being good enough.

This morning I’d like to make it clear that being good enough is not what the author of Colossians is saying when he writes that Paul was “completing what is lacking in Christ’s affliction in his sufferings.”  And the reason why the famous Christian public figure that I mentioned earlier said that this passage of Scripture is “almost heresy” is because so many have taken it to mean that we are made right with God by doing our part.

Two Testaments, Same God (II Kings 1:1-17 and Luke 9:51-62)

St. Thomas Memorial Episcopal Church

6.30.13

“Two Testaments, Same God, Or, Samaritans, Prophets, Fire from Heaven: Revisited”

II Kings 1:1-17 and Luke 9:51-62

It was the fall of my senior year of high school.  It was “Bring your Bible to school day.”  I really didn’t want any part of this.  The last thing an anxious, young public schooler needs is to be known as the Bible thumper.  But, at the same time, I felt guilty about not participating.  I think someone pressured me into it, but I also wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t ashamed of the gospel—that I wasn’t ashamed of Jesus—so not only did I  bring it along, I put it on the top of my stack of books.  It’s only one day I told myself.  What could go wrong? 

It was first period.  My Calculus teacher had finished her lecture early and I was waiting for the bell that liberated my classmates and me from the clutches of rule and order for a mere six minutes.  As we waited, my best friend—who sat next to me—who I had been talking to about the Christian faith for… forever, saw my Bible and picked it up.  He plopped it open and read the first passage he saw…  What did he read the Sermon on the Mount, the Parable of the Prodigal Son, John 3:16?… No.  My friend happened upon the conquest narrative of the book of Joshua.  If you don’t know that story, suffice it to say it’s one of  what are known as the ‘hard sayings’ of the Bible.  A passage most Christians aren’t rushing to write on cardboard signs and hold up at football games.  The last place I’d direct a curious young spiritual seeker. 

I was frustrated.  My friend, who had been witnessing to and praying for, was further turned away from the faith.  The bell rang.  My six minutes of freedom in between periods were ruined.  “Bring Your Bible to School Day” was a complete failure.  I remember thinking to myself, “Lord, why?  Here was your chance.  Why didn’t you plop open the book to highlight how good you are?  Why would you open the book to the Old Testament and not the New?”

I Need Control (Luke 8:26-39)

Church of the Nativity Episcopal Church

6/23/13

Luke 8:26-39

“I Need Control”

Not too long ago, a well-known Methodist bishop, Will Willimon, told a story to a group of pastors about an elderly lady he once visited in the hospital.  This woman had just been given some horrible news—she would no longer be able to use her legs.  Like a good minister he came to be present with her—he came to listen, he came to console.  After about 45 minutes, his not-so-subtle body language hinted at the fact that it was time for him to go.

       "Well, aren’t you going to pray for me?” she asked.

“Oh, sure,” he said.  “But you haven’t mentioned anything that you’d have me pray for.”

At this she looked at him funny.  “Pray that I’m able to walk again, of course.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, half-heartedly.

So the bishop said that he prayed the weakest prayer he’d ever prayed.  Something like, “Lord, Sally would really like to be healed.  Please give her patience with her new set of circumstances.  And, if it be your will, please heal her. Amen.”

When he opened his eyes he noticed that Sally was trying to get out of her bed.

“Sally, what are you doing?” He asked.  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m healed! I’m healed!” she yelled excitedly.  She then proceeded to hop out of bed, run out of the room, and shout for joy along the halls of the hospital.

Bishop Willimon told the group of pastors that in that moment he sneaked out of the hospital to hide in his vehicle.

In the safety of his own car he looked up and said, “Lord, don’t ever do anything like that again.”

The bishop had witnessed a miracle and it terrified him.  So what did he do?  He ran.

Still This Troubled Heart (Galatians 1:1-11)

St. Thomas Episcopal Church

6/2/13

Galatians 1:1-11 (I used the NRSV and J. Louis Martyn's excellent translation)

"Still This Troubled Heart"

When I was in college I was worried about my salvation.  I was worried about whether or not I’d go to heaven.  I was no axe-murderer—like the guys you see on the 10 o’clock news—but, at the same time, I was no activist, no monk, no “saint.”  So I took a few religion classes to find out more.  I took these classes hoping I’d find answers.  So I read and I read and I read. 

 “God will not deny grace to anyone who does what lies within them.”  I distinctively remember reading these words by the late medieval theologian Gabriel Biel.  I read further: as long you “did your best”—rejecting evil and trying to do good—you would be saved.  These words, originally meant to be assuring, proved to be anything but that.  In fact, they had the opposite effect on me.  As I noted earlier, I wasn’t a bad guy—at least, I didn’t think I was—but I had no way of knowing if I had done enough.  I had no way of knowing if I had done what “lies within me.”  In my quest for assurance I was left with doubt.  I was left with fear. 

But this all changed when I encountered the good news of the gospel.  And I am excited that for my first sermon here at St. Thomas I get to talk about the balm that quieted my troubled heart.  I get to talk about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  What one theologian refers to as the one-way love of God for suffering sinners like you and me.[1]  What the New Testament scholar F.F. Bruce summarized using these words, “Christ died [not for the healthy but] for the ungodly.”

"The Sinners Heard Him Gladly" Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Trinity Cathedral

3/10/13

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

“The Sinners Heard Him Gladly”

On this fourth Sunday in Lent we take a look at the well-known parable of the prodigal son, which is probably better referred to as the parable of the two sons. 

The lesson begins by showing us who this parable is directed towards.  The text says that the tax collectors and sinners were coming to Jesus.  The Pharisees and scribes see this and complain about Jesus.  How could a true righteous and holy man welcome and eat with sinners?  In those days to eat with someone was a sign of acceptance, something the Pharisees would never do with prostitutes and tax collectors, murderers and thieves. 

So we have two groups at hand for Jesus’ parable—the sinners and the “righteous.”

With both groups gathered, Jesus tells the parable of the two sons.

He starts with the younger, more well-known son.  From the start the son says to the Father, “Give me the share of the property that will belong to me.”  Now this may not sound like a deeply irreverent and disrespectful request to us, but in the ancient world asking for your inheritance before your father died was anathema.  It was tantamount to wishing your father dead.  This request would have been scandalous to Jesus’ listeners.  The younger son was essentially saying, “Father I want your things, I don’t want you” (Tim Keller “Gospel in Life”).

Now the listeners, both sinners and Pharisees would probably have expected the Father to discipline the son severely, if not disown him.  But this does not happen.  So it came as a surprise, in Jesus’ parable, when the Father not only doesn't discipline the son, but he grants him his request.