The Question Within the Question
Rev. James Hawley 7/25/2010
Luke 11:1-13
Which of you, when asked one question, listen for another?
It happens often with children. They ask many questions, questions like “what happens when a meteor comes through the roof?” Or, “If an alligator came into the dining room could we keep it?” Or maybe they wonder what happens if the sun fails to rise one day or how far it is to McCook if you have to walk. Whatever the case may be, often we are asked questions that have answers, but the answer is not really the point. The alligator question might just be natural curiosity, or it may reflect a yearning for a pet of some kind. The meteor question is easy to answer, but the real issue may be a sense of insecurity around the forces of nature. The question about McCook may have something to do with the loud crash you heard a short time ago. Whatever it is, however, the immediate question is seldom at the heart of the matter. What is really at issue is the question within the question.
The disciples watched Jesus pray. Watching Jesus pray must be like watching Phil Mickelson play golf or Arthur Rubinstein play the piano. The Carly Simon song comes to mind. Nobody Does it Better. So the disciples are understandably in awe of Jesus and his relationship with God. The text does not tell us—was Jesus praying aloud? If so, were the disciples in earshot? Or was he in silent prayer? An interesting question, I think, which the scripture does not answer. But the fact that the disciples then asked Jesus to “teach them to pray” as John taught his disciples suggests that they were not able simply to mimic Jesus’ prayers. They wanted lessons. Advice. And Jesus answers their request directly.
The “Lord’s Prayer”, as tradition has termed it, can be found in two places in the Bible. Here and as part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew. The text is different in each of these places and neither is the text that we commonly recite in church. Matthew is the closest, in the Revised Standard Version, but it lacks the doxology—“for Thine is the Kingdom and the Power of the Glory forever.” Luke’s version is a bit more spare.
There are essentially five petitions in Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer and, in keeping with Luke’s interest in linking both the former and the newer covenants together, the prayer can be understood as a distillation of the Ten Commandments. The five petitions are: 1) The holiness of God’s name. 2) the primacy of God’s kingdom. 3) The dependency of the creation on the creator 4) the necessity of forgiveness 5) the necessity of recognizing evil and steering clear of it. The first three petitions bring to mind the first four commandments and their emphasis on the absoluteness of God and the need to not have other gods or to take the Lord’s name in vain. The remaining petitions invoke the various “thou shalt nots” of the commandments. Essentially, forgiveness is the foundation of the community and the various “evils” which are itemized in the Old Testament are here lumped together as “Temptation” and “evil” which God shall help us to avoid. As Jesus’ followers were all Jews, at this point in the story, we may safely assume that there is nothing new here. No ground breaking insight. The prayer simply reiterates to Jesus’ followers the Jewish law in which they have been living all along.
But most of this Lukan text is not concerned with the prayer itself. It is concerned with the extended story about the neighbors. Therefore, we may conclude that Jesus’ principle interest is not in the words of the prayer itself, but in the question within the question that the disciples ask. This is a common practice for Jesus in Luke as we have seen. Jesus’ stories are not generally designed to introduce a new idea into people’s heads. Jesus’ stories draw out of people the things they already know to be true but may have conveniently forgotten. The young ruler knows the greatest commandment. The Pharisee is able to identify who was neighbor to the beaten man. Simon the Pharisee understands which debtor would be more loving. So perhaps the disciples already know how to pray, if by that we mean they can open their mouths and words will come out. What they may not know is whether their prayers are worth anything. They know how to pray, but they do not know what prayers work. What, they ultimately want to know, must they do to get God’s attention? I imagine a scene in which the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray, he answers with this prayer, and then goes back to his book or whatever he is doing. I see the disciples standing around, looking each other, kicking the dirt. “Jesus,” they say. “So…that’s it then? That will do it?” They are asking Jesus how to pray because they are afraid that their prayers are not any good. They are afraid that God does not hear their prayers. They are afraid of what will happen to them if they pray poorly. Under it all, the disciples are afraid that God may not actually care about them.
So Jesus tells them a story about a grumpy old man who has gone to bed and does not want to be bothered. With this character I can totally relate. But he is bothered—he is bothered by a neighbor who needs some food. The neighbor does not exactly say I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down, but he does persist. And so, just to get rid of him, the neighbor gets out of bed and gives the man what he is asking for.
As Amy Jo talked about two weeks ago with the story of the Good Samaritan, it was quite popular in the early centuries of the Church to allegorize Jesus’ stories. An allegory is a story within which the characters and events have a one to one relationship with real life counterparts. Have you read “Pilgrim’s Progress” by John Bunyan? This story was written in 1678 and is an allegory of the Christian’s life (The main character is named “Christian”) through hardship and peril to end finally at eternity. Perhaps the most famous allegory is one that the Greek philosopher Plato tells in his dialogue The Republic. It is called the allegory of the cave. Plato tells the story of persons chained in a cave unable to see anything but shadows of things passing by behind them. A light casts the shadows. As the people in the cave know no better, they presume the shadows are real when they are, of course, just shadows. Plato uses this story as an allegory to make the point that the people of Athens also confuse their knowledge (shadows) with what is real (Truth and Philosophy and things Plato likes). Now you don’t need to understand any of that I hope to see what allegory is. An allegory is story in which the characters and events are intended to represent actual real world people or events.
And Jesus did tell an allegory or two. At least the evangelists treat some of his stories as allegories. But mostly Jesus told parables, and parables are different from allegories. A parable is more slippery. In a parable, unlike an allegory, the target seems to be always moving. They are hard to pin down, hard to exhaust. Parables certainly are meant to illustrate ideas, ethics, morals. But they are often open ended, inviting us to enter into them in many ways and at different times. The story of the Prodigal Son is a common example. Sometimes when we hear that story we think we are like the father, other times the younger son, and other times the behavior of the older brother reminds us of our own feelings. Or the story of the Good Samaritan. There are times when we relate to the priest or Levite. Other times we feel like the victim on the road. Heaven forbid we not relate to the robbers, and at our best we resonate with the Samaritan. The point is this: with a parable there can never be a direct one to one relationship between the story and the world because the story and the world are too ambiguous to permit that.
The reason I descended into that discussion was to point out the risk of making an allegory out of this story. For if we do, we will understand God to be a grouchy old man who answers prayer to get rid of us. Now that is not what Jesus had in mind. Jesus’ story works instead by contrasting two things. Two things which are not at all alike. His point, ultimately is this: If grumpy old men get out of bed and give the neighbor what he is asking for---then how can you doubt that God---who is the opposite of the grumpy old man—will not care for you?
In a couple of weeks the lectionary has scheduled a passage wherein Jesus tells his disciples and others not to worry. Fear not, little flock, for it is your father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Let us transport that text into our own this day for it is important to see the continuity of expression on this subject. Time and time again Jesus comforts his followers with the assurance that God’s love is a given. It is part and parcel to the Kingdom of God. I am a little miffed at Jesus for saying that I, who am evil, know what good things to give my children. But I am willing to take the high road on this one. For the larger point is this---we must stop worrying about God’s love, either for us or our neighbor. The heart of the Kingdom of God is love. And love is reflected in forgiveness. And forgiveness opens the way to pursue the goals of God’s Kingdom. Which is pretty much the Lord’s Prayer. It is also at the heart of a lot of questions our children ask us---or others. The questions that have, at their heart, do you love me? Am I safe? Can I trust? Dare I risk? Jesus says yes. And yes. And yes. Love, forgive, pray, and live. Ask, knock and receive. Receive the Holy Spirit which your Father is every ready to give.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
On the Road Again
Well I have been dropping twenty dollar bills into a paper shredder for a while now so i guess I am ready to go to New York. Back next week......
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Good Samaritan
Although I am not preaching this week, I was ruminating about the lectionary reading which is the familiar story of the Good Samaritan. Like many of Luke's stories, the Good Samaritan has transcended its biblical roots to become part of the common vernacular of the people. Those who do something nice for another are often called "good Samaritans" even by people who have no idea that the term comes from the Bible or who a Samaritan is.
As with many stories of Jesus, as told by Luke, the Good Samaritan does not simply fall from the sky. Jesus does not stop random passers-by and say "hear this story". The story is prompted by an exchange with a "lawyer", one of the religious leaders specializing in Torah interpretation. The lawyer correctly understands that the greatest law involves "loving neighbor as yourself." But he does not stop there. In Luke's words "seeking to justify himself", the lawyer asks, "who is my neighbor?"
It is response to this question that Jesus tells his story. The circumstances of the story are well known and we will not review them here. If you want you can go read it in Luke 10. What matters to us here is this: at the end of the story Jesus asks the lawyer "who was neighbor to the man?" The lawyer responds, "The one who showed him mercy."
Jesus, as is his custom, turns the terms of the question up-side-down. The lawyer asked, "who is my neighbor?" Jesus asks, "who was neighbor to the man?" The story redefines the emphasis of the question of neighbor. Rather than a means of assessing who is worthy of being considered a "neighbor", Jesus defines neighbor as something we "are" to others. Therefore, the worthiness of the one we help becomes irrelevant. What matters is need.
My In-laws attend a church in Green Valley, AZ which is very committed to Border issues. Arizona, as many people know, has recently passed legislation relating to illegal immigration which has raised quite a ruckus. There is a group in my In-Laws church called the "Samaritans" whose calling it is to look for immigrants in the desert region around the border and provide them with food or water or help. A great many people who seek to come from Mexico to the United States do so at great risk and many die in the attempt. Should the "Samaritans" find someone in the desert, they provide necessities for survival and, if the circumstances warrant it, they call Border Patrol.
Understandably there are many people who do not like the Samaritans. They feel these illegal immigrants get what they have coming if they die in the desert. They feel that providing them with food and water is unlawfully assisting them in breaking the law. There is a group, known as the Minutemen, who patrol looking for migrants for the purpose of harassing and intimidating them. This is not the only difference between Samaritans and Minutemen: the Samaritans are armed with water and food. The Minutemen are merely armed.
When we look at this situation in Arizona from the standpoint of Jesus' story, something should be clear. Jesus' story is about BEING a neighbor to those in need. Not, as the lawyer hoped, about assessing who was worthy of mercy. The Samaritans in Arizona are, therefore, very biblical in their desire to show mercy to those in need without assessing their character, legality, or circumstance (apart from their immediate need for food and water). The Minutemen, it would seem, are more like the Lawyer who asked Jesus the question. Who is my neighbor? Apparently, thirsty, starving Mexicans in the desert are not "their neighbor". If we want to be followers of Jesus, what shall we do? How shall we respond to the immigration issue? It is by no means easy. It is quite complicated. But we should begin with the right question. It is not, "who is my neighbor?" The right question is "Who acted as neighbor to the one in need?"
As with many stories of Jesus, as told by Luke, the Good Samaritan does not simply fall from the sky. Jesus does not stop random passers-by and say "hear this story". The story is prompted by an exchange with a "lawyer", one of the religious leaders specializing in Torah interpretation. The lawyer correctly understands that the greatest law involves "loving neighbor as yourself." But he does not stop there. In Luke's words "seeking to justify himself", the lawyer asks, "who is my neighbor?"
It is response to this question that Jesus tells his story. The circumstances of the story are well known and we will not review them here. If you want you can go read it in Luke 10. What matters to us here is this: at the end of the story Jesus asks the lawyer "who was neighbor to the man?" The lawyer responds, "The one who showed him mercy."
Jesus, as is his custom, turns the terms of the question up-side-down. The lawyer asked, "who is my neighbor?" Jesus asks, "who was neighbor to the man?" The story redefines the emphasis of the question of neighbor. Rather than a means of assessing who is worthy of being considered a "neighbor", Jesus defines neighbor as something we "are" to others. Therefore, the worthiness of the one we help becomes irrelevant. What matters is need.
My In-laws attend a church in Green Valley, AZ which is very committed to Border issues. Arizona, as many people know, has recently passed legislation relating to illegal immigration which has raised quite a ruckus. There is a group in my In-Laws church called the "Samaritans" whose calling it is to look for immigrants in the desert region around the border and provide them with food or water or help. A great many people who seek to come from Mexico to the United States do so at great risk and many die in the attempt. Should the "Samaritans" find someone in the desert, they provide necessities for survival and, if the circumstances warrant it, they call Border Patrol.
Understandably there are many people who do not like the Samaritans. They feel these illegal immigrants get what they have coming if they die in the desert. They feel that providing them with food and water is unlawfully assisting them in breaking the law. There is a group, known as the Minutemen, who patrol looking for migrants for the purpose of harassing and intimidating them. This is not the only difference between Samaritans and Minutemen: the Samaritans are armed with water and food. The Minutemen are merely armed.
When we look at this situation in Arizona from the standpoint of Jesus' story, something should be clear. Jesus' story is about BEING a neighbor to those in need. Not, as the lawyer hoped, about assessing who was worthy of mercy. The Samaritans in Arizona are, therefore, very biblical in their desire to show mercy to those in need without assessing their character, legality, or circumstance (apart from their immediate need for food and water). The Minutemen, it would seem, are more like the Lawyer who asked Jesus the question. Who is my neighbor? Apparently, thirsty, starving Mexicans in the desert are not "their neighbor". If we want to be followers of Jesus, what shall we do? How shall we respond to the immigration issue? It is by no means easy. It is quite complicated. But we should begin with the right question. It is not, "who is my neighbor?" The right question is "Who acted as neighbor to the one in need?"
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Ready or Not... A Sermon
Galatians 6:14-16
Luke 10:1-11
We in the modern church do not speak much of circumcision. And this is fine with me. With the exception of Jewish people, this topic is best discussed with one’s pediatrician rather than one’s pastor. We may acknowledge that this subject bears some importance to the Old Testament and Paul seems to want to bring it up a lot, but by and large this subject, from our religious viewpoint, is a religious concern of a by-gone era.
But this avoidance does come at a cost. For while it is true that circumcision itself is not relevant to gentile Christians such as us, Paul is making an important point that should not be lost, tossed out like the proverbial baby with the bathwater. Paul is speaking of a matter of great importance to the early church. The issue is whether non-Jews need to go through a process of becoming Jews on the way to becoming Christians. Paul says no. If you are a Jew, as he was, then good for you. If you are not, then welcome aboard. The only thing that matters to Paul is the New Creation in Jesus Christ, realized in the cross of Christ, a reality equally accessible to the Jew and the non-Jew.
So the question for us hip, modern Christians is this: what is our circumcision? In other words, what are those things we cling to as essential prerequisites for participation in the Christian faith? We might be surprised when we stop to think about it, how many things we consider the essential “first things first”. Just as those early Jewish Christians believed that conforming to the Jewish law was a prerequisite for being a “Christian”, so we, too, have our gauntlets established.
As you know one of my favorite examples in town is the church that has the handy card in the pews which tell visitors the seven things they have to believe before they can become members or take communion. We are well familiar with the Roman Catholic understanding that only Roman Catholics may partake of the Eucharist. There is a church in town on the way to Cody Go Carts whose sign proclaims the following: Fundamental, Independent, and KJV ONLY!
In the Christian bookstore you can buy evangelical tracts to hand out to people. One of them tells the story of an Army chaplain who worked hard to help those in his charge, including those who didn’t believe in Jesus. When he died he went to the pearly gates only to be told by whomever was standing guard that he didn’t get in because he did not worship Jesus as the only way to salvation. As I understood the message, it makes no difference how much compassion you show people, especially people who are religiously different, if you do not drive home Jesus you don’t get in.
Now I can’t speak for you, wouldn’t dream of it, but I have a hard time with believing in a God who, at the end of the day, is as petty and vindictive as we are. But I digress. The point is this: It seems we all have those things we find essential prerequisites on the way to “being saved”. For many Christians, before you can be one of us, you have to BE one of us.
But what is the biblical witness? What does scripture say? Well, to be a bit more focused, what do this morning’s texts say? Since we have already started with Paul we will stay with him. Paul’s letter to the Galatians is, with the possible exception of Romans, the most succinct statement of his theology. And whereas Romans is drawn out a bit, more of a reasoned argument, Galatians is a fiery retort full of anger. Paul apparently wrote it himself, at least the conclusion, literally, as he mentions what large letters he makes when he writes with his own hand. At issue here is whether the church—or series of churches—to which Paul has brought the Gospel will continue in the Gospel Paul preached. Or shall they, from Paul’s perspective, be “led astray”. Paul’s Gospel is inclusive. Gentile or Jew, male or female, slave nor free—all are one in Christ Jesus. For Paul, God has intervened in human history decisively in Jesus Christ. This “once and for all” event changes everything. No longer does the law hold humanity in captivity. The law has been condensed into a new reality in Christ—it is by God’s grace that we are saved through faith in the one who makes salvation possible. What is left is a life of thankful praise. After depositing this gospel of grace, Paul moved on. Not long after, it appears, other evangelists came through with a slightly different message. Not so fast, they said: Jesus, yes, but the law as well. And these evangelists compelled potential Gentile Christians to first accept the requirements of the law, circumcision—the sign of the covenant with Abraham—being the outward sign.
Well, when Paul finds out he flips out, and this letter is his response. Paul ends his letter with a glorious observation that is worth every bit of time we take meditating on it. Neither circumcision or uncircumcision is anything. The New Creation is everything. Or, as the Greek text reads: Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision—New Creation!
The New Creation. This is the foundation of Paul’s theology. Whatever went wrong with Adam in the Garden of Eden, whatever went wrong which made the law and all of its baggage necessary, whatever twists and turns human affairs have taken, sinking deeper and deeper into sin, all of that is erased with a sweep of God’s cosmic hand. Paul preaches Christ and him crucified and raised, God’s “New Creation” in which sin is forgiven and overcome, death is overcome, all human division is overcome. What remains in this “New Creation” is unity, brother and sisterhood, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. As Paul sardonically points out, against these there is no law.
But more than this, the point to take away from his words is this: All of it is of God’s choosing and God’s doing. This seems so simple to say but so hard to truly accept. We don’t get a say in this. It’s done. That is why Paul is so upset with these Galatians. Jesus has taken away any and all of the human rules for religion. Think of it this way. This is the season for bad weather. We have storms from time to time. When a severe thunderstorm is heading our way, the weather people let us know. They issue a warning and we, if we are wise, heed that warning and take precautions. Are we at liberty to say, “thank you for the note about the storm, but we prefer sunshine thank you.” No. The storm is coming. We cannot change that. All we can do is adjust ourselves to that impending reality.
And so it is for Paul and the New Creation. We do not get to decide whether we want a New Creation or not. We do not get to select from a buffet of religious choices which parts suit us and which parts do not. God has redeemed creation in Jesus Christ and we, as part of that creation, are caught up in redemption. Paul says we have to grasp that redemption, which is faith, and live a grateful life in the ways he describes. Now surely many people believe themselves to be redeemed and, in one sense, they are. But do they act like Paul would have them act—with love, joy, peace, etc. Or do they act as the Jewish Christians act—with rules and regulations and condemnations and threats
In our Gospel story Jesus sends teams out to proclaim the good news. Jesus gives them particular instructions. If you come to a town and they receive you, good. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near to them. If you go to a town that does not receive you, bad. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near them.
Do you notice what these two experiences have in common? Not the reception, to be sure. Some towns were happy to see them and others not. What was common to both events was the message. The message is the same to those who are receptive and to those who are not—the Kingdom of God has come near.
Imagine you go to visit other lands with a message—your message is that a heavy rainfall is coming. The first land you visit is locked in a severe drought. How will you message be received? With joy, one supposes. As the answer to prayer. Now you visit a land in which the grass is green and the plants are plentiful and the residents do nothing but play golf every day. You bring your message of heavy rainfall. How will they feel about it? They will be disappointed, as the reality you predict will mess up their plans, their way of life.
It is not a perfect illustration, but it is meant to help us think about the ways in which one message may be heard differently by different people in different situations. In Jesus’ day, those who were, for the most part, excluded from the benefits of society welcomed Jesus’ words. Those who largely benefited from the status quo were not as keen. Good news is not always Good news for everyone.
But it should be. The Kingdom of God and its righteousness is a pearl of great price, a treasure hidden in the field. The Kingdom of God is a mustard seed that grows into a giant bush and a seed that takes root in fertile ground. But more than anything, the Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of GOD. And, as such, like our thunderstorm, has come whether we like it or not. Like Paul’s New Creation, the Kingdom of God is a new and triumphant reality that has arrived by God’s will alone and we cannot live in any other reality because there is no other reality. That is not to say we cannot try to live in another reality. We can, and often do, attempt to impose our Kingdoms onto the Kingdom of God. But this is folly, the evangelists agree, and in Jesus Christ—his life, death, resurrection—we see God’s intention for our lives together and God’s promised fulfillment of things at the end of history.
So back to our original question. What, for us, is circumcision? Or, what would Paul say to us today, using the language and examples from our time? That is for each of us to answer, but here are a few ideas….
Neither the KJV nor the NRSV is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your politics nor my politics is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your creed nor my creed is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Or, just simply—The New Creation is everything. The Kingdom of God has come near. Ready or not….
Luke 10:1-11
We in the modern church do not speak much of circumcision. And this is fine with me. With the exception of Jewish people, this topic is best discussed with one’s pediatrician rather than one’s pastor. We may acknowledge that this subject bears some importance to the Old Testament and Paul seems to want to bring it up a lot, but by and large this subject, from our religious viewpoint, is a religious concern of a by-gone era.
But this avoidance does come at a cost. For while it is true that circumcision itself is not relevant to gentile Christians such as us, Paul is making an important point that should not be lost, tossed out like the proverbial baby with the bathwater. Paul is speaking of a matter of great importance to the early church. The issue is whether non-Jews need to go through a process of becoming Jews on the way to becoming Christians. Paul says no. If you are a Jew, as he was, then good for you. If you are not, then welcome aboard. The only thing that matters to Paul is the New Creation in Jesus Christ, realized in the cross of Christ, a reality equally accessible to the Jew and the non-Jew.
So the question for us hip, modern Christians is this: what is our circumcision? In other words, what are those things we cling to as essential prerequisites for participation in the Christian faith? We might be surprised when we stop to think about it, how many things we consider the essential “first things first”. Just as those early Jewish Christians believed that conforming to the Jewish law was a prerequisite for being a “Christian”, so we, too, have our gauntlets established.
As you know one of my favorite examples in town is the church that has the handy card in the pews which tell visitors the seven things they have to believe before they can become members or take communion. We are well familiar with the Roman Catholic understanding that only Roman Catholics may partake of the Eucharist. There is a church in town on the way to Cody Go Carts whose sign proclaims the following: Fundamental, Independent, and KJV ONLY!
In the Christian bookstore you can buy evangelical tracts to hand out to people. One of them tells the story of an Army chaplain who worked hard to help those in his charge, including those who didn’t believe in Jesus. When he died he went to the pearly gates only to be told by whomever was standing guard that he didn’t get in because he did not worship Jesus as the only way to salvation. As I understood the message, it makes no difference how much compassion you show people, especially people who are religiously different, if you do not drive home Jesus you don’t get in.
Now I can’t speak for you, wouldn’t dream of it, but I have a hard time with believing in a God who, at the end of the day, is as petty and vindictive as we are. But I digress. The point is this: It seems we all have those things we find essential prerequisites on the way to “being saved”. For many Christians, before you can be one of us, you have to BE one of us.
But what is the biblical witness? What does scripture say? Well, to be a bit more focused, what do this morning’s texts say? Since we have already started with Paul we will stay with him. Paul’s letter to the Galatians is, with the possible exception of Romans, the most succinct statement of his theology. And whereas Romans is drawn out a bit, more of a reasoned argument, Galatians is a fiery retort full of anger. Paul apparently wrote it himself, at least the conclusion, literally, as he mentions what large letters he makes when he writes with his own hand. At issue here is whether the church—or series of churches—to which Paul has brought the Gospel will continue in the Gospel Paul preached. Or shall they, from Paul’s perspective, be “led astray”. Paul’s Gospel is inclusive. Gentile or Jew, male or female, slave nor free—all are one in Christ Jesus. For Paul, God has intervened in human history decisively in Jesus Christ. This “once and for all” event changes everything. No longer does the law hold humanity in captivity. The law has been condensed into a new reality in Christ—it is by God’s grace that we are saved through faith in the one who makes salvation possible. What is left is a life of thankful praise. After depositing this gospel of grace, Paul moved on. Not long after, it appears, other evangelists came through with a slightly different message. Not so fast, they said: Jesus, yes, but the law as well. And these evangelists compelled potential Gentile Christians to first accept the requirements of the law, circumcision—the sign of the covenant with Abraham—being the outward sign.
Well, when Paul finds out he flips out, and this letter is his response. Paul ends his letter with a glorious observation that is worth every bit of time we take meditating on it. Neither circumcision or uncircumcision is anything. The New Creation is everything. Or, as the Greek text reads: Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision—New Creation!
The New Creation. This is the foundation of Paul’s theology. Whatever went wrong with Adam in the Garden of Eden, whatever went wrong which made the law and all of its baggage necessary, whatever twists and turns human affairs have taken, sinking deeper and deeper into sin, all of that is erased with a sweep of God’s cosmic hand. Paul preaches Christ and him crucified and raised, God’s “New Creation” in which sin is forgiven and overcome, death is overcome, all human division is overcome. What remains in this “New Creation” is unity, brother and sisterhood, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. As Paul sardonically points out, against these there is no law.
But more than this, the point to take away from his words is this: All of it is of God’s choosing and God’s doing. This seems so simple to say but so hard to truly accept. We don’t get a say in this. It’s done. That is why Paul is so upset with these Galatians. Jesus has taken away any and all of the human rules for religion. Think of it this way. This is the season for bad weather. We have storms from time to time. When a severe thunderstorm is heading our way, the weather people let us know. They issue a warning and we, if we are wise, heed that warning and take precautions. Are we at liberty to say, “thank you for the note about the storm, but we prefer sunshine thank you.” No. The storm is coming. We cannot change that. All we can do is adjust ourselves to that impending reality.
And so it is for Paul and the New Creation. We do not get to decide whether we want a New Creation or not. We do not get to select from a buffet of religious choices which parts suit us and which parts do not. God has redeemed creation in Jesus Christ and we, as part of that creation, are caught up in redemption. Paul says we have to grasp that redemption, which is faith, and live a grateful life in the ways he describes. Now surely many people believe themselves to be redeemed and, in one sense, they are. But do they act like Paul would have them act—with love, joy, peace, etc. Or do they act as the Jewish Christians act—with rules and regulations and condemnations and threats
In our Gospel story Jesus sends teams out to proclaim the good news. Jesus gives them particular instructions. If you come to a town and they receive you, good. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near to them. If you go to a town that does not receive you, bad. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near them.
Do you notice what these two experiences have in common? Not the reception, to be sure. Some towns were happy to see them and others not. What was common to both events was the message. The message is the same to those who are receptive and to those who are not—the Kingdom of God has come near.
Imagine you go to visit other lands with a message—your message is that a heavy rainfall is coming. The first land you visit is locked in a severe drought. How will you message be received? With joy, one supposes. As the answer to prayer. Now you visit a land in which the grass is green and the plants are plentiful and the residents do nothing but play golf every day. You bring your message of heavy rainfall. How will they feel about it? They will be disappointed, as the reality you predict will mess up their plans, their way of life.
It is not a perfect illustration, but it is meant to help us think about the ways in which one message may be heard differently by different people in different situations. In Jesus’ day, those who were, for the most part, excluded from the benefits of society welcomed Jesus’ words. Those who largely benefited from the status quo were not as keen. Good news is not always Good news for everyone.
But it should be. The Kingdom of God and its righteousness is a pearl of great price, a treasure hidden in the field. The Kingdom of God is a mustard seed that grows into a giant bush and a seed that takes root in fertile ground. But more than anything, the Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of GOD. And, as such, like our thunderstorm, has come whether we like it or not. Like Paul’s New Creation, the Kingdom of God is a new and triumphant reality that has arrived by God’s will alone and we cannot live in any other reality because there is no other reality. That is not to say we cannot try to live in another reality. We can, and often do, attempt to impose our Kingdoms onto the Kingdom of God. But this is folly, the evangelists agree, and in Jesus Christ—his life, death, resurrection—we see God’s intention for our lives together and God’s promised fulfillment of things at the end of history.
So back to our original question. What, for us, is circumcision? Or, what would Paul say to us today, using the language and examples from our time? That is for each of us to answer, but here are a few ideas….
Neither the KJV nor the NRSV is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your politics nor my politics is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your creed nor my creed is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Or, just simply—The New Creation is everything. The Kingdom of God has come near. Ready or not….
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