October 1, part two

In doing more reading on Esther, I discovered that the enmity between Mordecai and Haman is deeper than at first it seems. The feud apparently is meant to hark back to a war described in Deuteronomy 25 between Amalek (Haman's ancestor) and the Jews (Mordecai's ancestors). Deuteronomy 25:19 calls the Jews not to forget about Amalek, but to blot out his memory forever. So Esther's story is a continuation of an ethnic battle which happened long before her birth. Human history is full of such continuing ethnic hatreds, as is our modern world. The slaughter at the end of the story of Esther is not just revenge on Haman, but on the descendents of Amalek. Does it never end? Shelly

October 1

This Sunday is World Communion Sunday.
Esther 3:7-11, 4:9-17, 7:1-10

This Sunday is the only day in three years of lectionary readings that we get anything from the book of Esther. Esther is known for, among other things, never mentioning the name of God. In fact this disturbed some folk so much that somewhere along the line a piece of Esther was added which includes a prayer (if your Bible has the Apocrypha in between Old and New Testaments, you can find it there). I have added a piece to what the lectionary calls for to try to flesh out the story, but it really would be helpful to read the whole book of Esther (not that long and very interesting story) to get the full picture. Our Jewish kin read this book (and often act it out) every year on the feast of Purim. (Pur is the Hebrew word for the "lots" that were cast - in essence dice - by Haman to determine the starting date for the pogrom against the Jews).

Here's the set-up: Esther is a beautiful young Jewish girl who gets chosen by the King of Persia for his new wife, after being suggested for such a role by her uncle, Mordecai, who was a minor official at court. He urges her, however, to keep her Jewish heritage a secret. (The whole story of the King's first wife, Vashti, told in chapter one is worthy all on its own as a story of a courageous woman!). One day Haman, a higher official at court, noticed that Mordecai never bowed to him at court (implicit here is that Mordecai did not do so because his sovereign was only God, but this is not stated, BTW, the same reason I do not place my hand over my heart when I recite the pledge of allegiance -- my heart bears allegiance only to God. But that's another sermon). Haman gets mad and wants to punish Mordecai, so he convinces (attempting a bribe) the king to let him destroy all the Jews for not following law and custom of Persia. Mordecai goes into mourning ahead of time when this is announced (he wears sackcloth and ashes), and when Esther sends a message to ask him what is wrong, he suggests she might do something about all this. She declines, valuing her life. Mordecai reminds her that she, too, is a Jew, and will be discovered and killed. She asks Mordecai to call a fast for her people (which again implies prayer to God, though this is not stated), and she successfully gets the King's attention, inviting him and Haman to a feast. She repeats this feast twice and then lays out her desire that her people's lives be spared (chapter 6 has an interim act whereby the king honors Mordecai for past service, which further enrages Haman). The king is furious with Haman for threatening the queen's people, and when Haman throws himself on Esther to plead for his life, the king thinks he is threatening the queen's body, and so has him put to death.
That might have been the end of the story, but actually the book has a rather bloody ending. The King's decree, once issued, could not be withdrawn, but a separate decree goes out allowing the Jewish people to be armed to defend themselves. A considerable slaughter and plundering is described in chapter 9, as well as the instructions to observe the festival of thanksgiving that followed.
I will be concentrating (I think), on the central portion of the story, where Esther thinks what will happen is not her concern, that she can do nothing about it, that it is all far away from her reality. Mordecai's words to Esther are perhaps the most well-known from this odd book, "Who knows? Perhaps you have come to this place for just such a time as this?" In the context of World Communion Sunday, this is one to think on. Shelly

September 24

James 3:13-4:3, Mark 9:30-37

The James reading is very much in line with what we read a couple of weeks ago; very clear and frank discussion of the Christian life. He's talking to folk who are very much caught up in the pursuit of worldly wisdom (do we know about that in New Haven?) and are proud of their accomplishments and relentless in their ambition. He cautions them that all that ambition can have negative results in the rest of their lives (I read a quote recently whose source I don't remember to the effect that behind every successful person lies a path of wreckage). James contrasts this kind of ambition for success with those whose lives show evidence of peace, of gentleness, among other things including this interesting phrase "willingness to yield." When I think of the Donald Trumps of this world, or Bill Gates, "willingness to yield" doesn't come to mind. Although Gates recently yielded a large amount of power to pursue some other fruits. Interesting.

The Mark coordinates nicely with these sentiments. It's hard in our context to imagine the place of children in the time of Jesus. They were, quite literally, invisible. Now with media and advertising so focussed on children as consumers, it seems impossible to imagine a culture where they were meant to be servants, not ever meant to claim anything by way of possessions or time or power for themselves, in fact in many ancient languages the two words, child and servant, are the same word. Note that in Mark Jesus does not say, "become like a child," but "whoever welcomes or receives (depending on translator) a child in my name welcomes me and the one who sent me." Welcoming and receiving the powerless, the invisible is to welcome Jesus, not to aspire to welcome and receive only the great and powerful.

The implication here, however, is not just to say hi to someone, or even offer the "extravagant welcome" the UCC Still Speaking campaign urges us to do to church visitors. Jesus calls the disciples to serve these folk, the "least of these" from Matthew 26. The greatest, in Jesus' equation, are those who make themselves of less stature than the least, servants of the least, the invisible, the powerless.

I'm grappling with this word "welcome" or "receive" in this context, as we seek a new measurement of greatness. shelly

September 17

Proverbs 7:20-33, Mark 8:27-38

I just read the Proverbs reading, today, September 11. I was profoundly struck at the themes given today's anniversary of attack. Haven't processed all that yet, but I encourage you to read it and think about it.

The Mark reading captures one of the absolutely pivotal moments in Jesus' ministry, his disciples' recognition of his identity as Messiah. The text moves clearly through three phases: first Jesus' inquiry about public opinion concerning him and the disciples' opinion concerning him; second he begins to explain what Messiah means, and finally what it means to their lives to proclaim him Messiah.
Of course, the folk of Jesus' time had some definite ideas about who Messiah would be. Some were political (he would elevate Israel to power and defeat all enemies) and some were religious (he would restore right relationships between people and God). None of those ideas involved a self-sacrificing Messiah, however. In fact, Lamar Williamson in his commentary notes that one reason Jesus tells Peter to be quiet about his being Messiah is that Jesus knows Peter has a flawed concept of who Messiah is! Fred Craddock adds to that his observation that general public opinion had Jesus as forerunner of the Messiah because "Messiah as future keeps one's image intact and makes no demands; Messiah as present calls for an altered image and demands an altered self."
So many people today seem to be very clear on who Jesus is, what he would do today and what he wants us to do. What are you hearing about who Jesus is? shelly

September 10, part 2

Thinking of other people who have pressed God and made an impact brings up Abraham, who kept negotiating with God to save the life of his nephew Lot, slated to die in God's planned destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Also others, like Moses asking God for water and food for the people in the wilderness, who didn't so much change God's mind as simply reach out and grab a hold of what God wanted to give all along. That's the mood of the Isaiah reading pared with this week's gospel, 35:1-7. God wants to bring the people home from exile and calls them to claim that promise, to hitch themselves to God's desire and live into it.

As I was reading on the Mark passage, I came across a blog by someone named Jerry Goebel who had a very interesting take on this passage in the light of recent events in Tyre, one of the places Israel bombed during the recent battles in Lebanon with Hezbollah. Using the favorite catchphrase "WWJD" (What Would Jesus Do) as his starting point, Goebel writes "What Would Jesus Do in Tyre? We already know. The same thing he did 2000 years ago in that ancient city. He would find the most ignored, most forgotten, most desperate person in the city and he would heal her daughter." Actually, to be more accurate to the text, I might say he would be open to being found by her and be moved by her need and her wisdom, despite the fact that she seemed to be an enemy. That takes this is a rather interesting, different direction that intrigues me.

The other piece of this passage that is sitting with me, considering we begin our Sunday School program this week, is the fact that the one matter that helps Jesus and the woman overcome the barriers between them is the well-being of a child. The original Mother's Day was an attempt by some women to rally the women of the world to stop war and the killing of our children (wow has that gone by the wayside as card companies have taken over the holiday). Can the well-being of children be the thing that overcomes barriers and unites people in one purpose? shelly

September 10

Mark 7:24-37

Remember last week that Jesus frankly and boldly and unambiguously demolished the purity code of the Judaism of his time. He clearly declared all foods clean and that relationships are more important than ritual observances. So when the reading for this week begins, it looks like Jesus is going out to put his money (well, his work) where his mouth is. He heads into Gentile territory, Tyre and Sidon, in modern-day Lebanon. Why would Jesus make that journey if not to show that his gospel is not just for the Jewish people?
Actually, it seems at first that Jesus may be going north for a break. He has worked ceaselessly for weeks, having difficulty escaping the crowds for even a short period of time. Up north his name is less well-known; what is a Jewish prophet in Gentile-land? As one commentator I read noted, we claim Jesus to be fully human, but we sometimes seem surprised that he acts fully human, as in someone who needs a rest now and then.
Then we get this most unsettling story of the Gentile woman who is desperate for healing for her daughter. Matthew also records this story (15:21-28), and he gives the beginning of it even more oomph. In Matthew's version, Jesus at first ignores her altogether and the disciples ask him to send her away because her shouting is annoying them. Both Matthew and Mark agree that Jesus then says one of the most disturbing things we ever hear him say. He tells her that he's sent to give food to the children of Israel first, and then says it's not fair to take that food and give it to the dogs. The implication, of course, is that she is a dog (translaters say that the word he uses implies house dogs, not street strays, but I think that is splitting hairs. It's still an insult).
Whoa! What happened to the inclusive Jesus, the one who breaks down barriers, the one who is not bound by the social conventions of his time? Is it because she's a woman? a Gentile? obnoxious? Is he testing her or his disciples (I and many other exegetes have trouble believing Jesus could be that cruel)? Is it that he is so tired, and that the job of trying to reach the children of Israel is so exhausting and seemingly fruitless that he can't imagine having the energy to reach out even further in his mission? Does his weariness lead his mouth on this rare occasion?
Well, if Jesus is tired, this woman is more tired. She's been dealing with a daughter who is "demon-possessed." Epileptic? Mentally ill? Who knows what the disease was, but what any one of us can imagine is how difficult every day was for her, trying to just get through the day with this sick child. She had a shred of hope here, and she wasn't about to give up that easily.
But look how she responded. She didn't chastise him for being so rude. She didn't defend her rights to his attention as a valuable child of God. She took his metaphor and rode it out, with boldness and grace. "Even the dogs get the leftovers," she told him.
Indeed. Mark clearly implies here that this woman's boldness, her bodaciousness, if you will, had an impact on Jesus. "For saying that, you may go, the demon has left your daughter." Her saying brought him up short, reminded him of who he was and what he was supposed to be about, perhaps. Her energy for healing fed him in his weariness, so much so that he could go from that house on a long journey and heal again in Gentile territory. The barriers were undoubtedly broken, now, and Jesus would not erect them again.
More tomorrow. Where is this story touching you? Shelly