Hidden Kingdom

Have you ever heard of a man named Forest Fenn? Maybe you have run across his name in headlines, but even if you have not his life can best be compared to a hero from one of the most successful cinematic series in history. Fenn is the real life Indiana Jones—with art collector, air force pilot, and archeologist all on the resumé.[1] My heart still accelerates when I hear John William’s theme song from those films. If you are not familiar with the series it chronicles a swashbuckling professor in search of lost relics like the Arc of the Covenant and the Holy Grail. Who doesn’t love a good treasure hunt?

Back in 2010 the real life treasure seeker—Fenn—buried almost $2 million worth of booty somewhere north of Sante Fe, New Mexico. He wanted to be remembered, so he hid gold, jade statues, and a copy of his book, then shared a poem as a clue. To date at least 65,000 people have set out to find the buried prize—and at least two of them have been found dead.[2] Still Fenn will not relent and neither will those who search for the handsome fortune. Surprisingly, a pastor longing to find the hidden stockpile most recently died in this wild goose chase. I am not making up this sad fact. A Christian minister went out in search of earthly treasure and never returned. This death makes me wonder, “What treasure am I willing to seek even if I die in the process?”

What treasure is of such great value to you that you would give everything you have to take hold of it? In today’s Gospel lesson we hear Jesus speaking six parables to the crowds and his disciples. Many of these descriptions of the Kingdom of God are familiar to us—the mustard seed, the leaven, the merchant and the pearl, and even the abundant catch of fish. This week at first glance though, I struggled to see a shimmering thread tying all of these parables together—other than that they are about the Kingdom of God. Of course, I left out two of these parables, and both of them refer to treasure. Two parables about treasure may very well help us to understand not only the rest of what Jesus spoke in this Gospel passage, but also why we must boldly seek hidden treasure ourselves.

The first of these parables Jesus told featured a man, a field, and some treasure. Maybe you easily understand this parable, but as I heard it this week the wording confused me. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44). Is the treasure buried by a man who then digs up his own prize? That does not make sense. Presumably someone else buried the treasure, then another found it, buried it back, sold all he had, and only then took hold of the land and the treasure. This treasure seeker gets what he wants, but he did so by trespassing and digging up someone else’s land—not to mention selling everything else to get the prize-filled property. And yet, Jesus says this is Kingdom of God. Entering into God’s Kingdom may cost us. We may have to risk things we hold so dearly to go out and find God’s realm! Jesus later tells a second parable about treasure.

This next parable about prized possessions almost lies hidden—like buried treasure—within this Gospel lesson. After Jesus asked if the hearers had understood these parables—and they audaciously answered yes—Jesus spoke of scribes trained for the kingdom of heaven. I believe we are these scribes trained for God’s purposes. Jesus compared these scribes to the master of a household bringing out old and new treasure. Jesus’ response to the affirmation of the understanding hearer is a challenge not to get stuck in only one way of seeking the ultimate treasure—relationship with God. Jesus challenges those with ears to hear not to simply rest on treasure, but to bring out those prizes to enlighten others. Together these parables require of us seeking out the treasure that is God’s Kingdom by all means possible and sharing that treasured realm by any means necessary.

We can use these two parables further to act as keys, which will unlock a fuller vision of the divine life within the other parables. God threads a theme through these other stories, namely that the Kingdom of God hides beneath the surface away from plain sight—it is not a kingdom with boundaries, a castle, or a passport office. In other words, we cannot always see the hidden treasure that is God’s domain. Even within ourselves we may not know the power of Christ’s light that shines until we spend some time digging around our own souls. As we examine these parables closer we may be surprised.

Taking a look at each parable we see something hidden. A huge shrub hides within a tiny and often unwanted seed. Bread enough for a huge wedding banquet may be lurking within the spoiling yeast of the last loaf. The most beautiful pearl could easily rest at the bottom of the ocean or a merchant’s trunk. Good fish hide both beneath the surface of the water and among the undesirable ones. Thus, we see in each of these stories the hidden treasure—God’s Kingdom.

God’s Kingdom hides so easily from us. We may believe we have found it in something so cherished and beloved by us that we cling to it tightly. If we are not careful though, we will soon discover that hanging onto the treasure of old prevents us from taking hold of new treasures. We are challenged to not only possess old treasure, but to be like a wise collector who sees the value of the new as well. Our relationship with God—our place in God’s Kingdom—exists similarly. Jesus challenges us to take hold of buried treasure from old, while seeking new hidden stockpiles as well.

Why is seeking this treasure both old and new so important though? Seeking the treasure–God’s Kingdom and the love we know in Jesus—holds the most value of anything in the world precisely because when we experience the love of God and share it with others this treasure has the power to transform the world. This pearl is worth giving up everything to find it. It is worth giving up a spot in the garden for the tiny mustard seed, time in the kitchen tending to loaves of bread, all we have to buy a field, and blood, sweat, and tears to catch fish—good fish. Jesus gives to us the Kingdom of God and he asks us treasure it and to share it with everyone. How will you seek this treasure and if you find it how will you share it with others?

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[1] Trendacosta, Katharine. The Most Astonishing Real-Life Treasure Hunts. August 22, 2013. http://io9.gizmodo.com/the-most-astonishing-real-life-treasure-hunts-1181644705 (accessed July 27, 2017).

[2]Bromwich, Jonah Engel. Colorado Man Is Second to Die in Quest for Buried Treasure. June 21, 2017. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/21/us/forrest-fenn-treasure.html (accessed July 27, 2017).

Being Great (by Being Less): James the Apostle

My freshman year of college started out pretty rough. Even though I had spent summers away at camp this was the first time I was truly left to my own devices. At first, I struggled not so much with planning my routine or balancing school work and other commitments, but something else. While I went to church every Sunday and even served as an acolyte, spiritually I felt disconnected but not how you might imagine. I did not immediately make deep connections with classmates. At first—it seemed—making friends was pretty far down on my list of priorities. That was until one foggy day during the winter.

A friend invited me to a small group meeting of people she thought I would like and immediately everything changed. I found people who were awake and alive spiritually. Previously I thought that apart from my roommate and a couple of teammates that mostly all of the people at Sewanee were godless heathens—okay, that is taking it a little too far, but I was concerned that so many did not seem interested in cultivating deeper roots—school and sports and parties can only get one so far. On that fateful, foggy day I was invited to join a men’s small group that would study the Bible and join together in fellowship, accountability, and support. We called ourselves unabashedly “The Sons of Thunder,” which was the nickname Jesus gave to the sons of Zebedee whose names were John and James. While it may sound boastful quite often that nickname fit.

This group of young men boisterously laughed together, passionately studied the life of Christ together (even trying to learn Greek on our own), and boldly attempted to live our lives modeled after Jesus’ own together. However, this was not the only way in which we were like the original sons of thunder, James and John. Like the brothers we heard about in today’s Gospel lesson, we too would try to outdo one another in everything, as each of us yearned to be the greatest—in anything and everything. Some would compete over the right interpretation of Scripture, others tried to be involved in the most Christian activities, and we would even compete in eating contests, billiards, ping pong, or just about anything else. I worked out my spiritual greatness by joining the ranks of the chapel’s sacristan guild (a group of students that were a mix between acolytes and an altar guild). And, not only that I studied so hard yearning to have the honor of valedictorian of my sacristan class.

At first seeking spiritual greatness felt so right, as I was alive inside and excited about these deeper friendships. And yet, eventually I discovered that seeking greatness for myself or outdoing others for earthly accolades leaves one feeling empty. Of course, if I had truly listened to what Jesus said in Matthew 20:25-28 perhaps I could have avoided this vain pursuit in the first place.

Jesus said to his disciples, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

To truly serve another requires us to give up all hope of our own greatness. To become a true servant we cannot bank on something in return for our servitude. To be like Christ we must be willing to lay everything else down to pick up our crosses. Even if we are ostensibly doing good, if it is to outdo someone else then it is worthless.

Eventually James the Apostle, whom we celebrate today in the life of the Church would understand this. He may have sought his own greatness before Jesus’ Passion, Death, and Resurrection but, as Jesus rose from the dead God transformed James’ motivation. James became the first apostle to taste death through martyrdom. One seeking one’s own glory has a very hard time standing up to such persecution if the end is merely outdoing someone else. James laid down his life for God’s glory not his own.

James was transformed by the Resurrection. He no longer sought beating others to the top spot. Instead, he became a servant of the Good News. He shared God’s love in missionary journeys and in laying down his life. We too are called to be servants of God by sharing the Good News of God’s transforming love. May we not seek our own greatness, the best seats, the favored positions, or even to be the greatest servant. Instead, may we become servants of all willing to give up everything to share God’s love with all whom we meet.

A Smorgasbord of Parables

At the end of this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson we hear of a moment when Jesus asked his disciples a question about the parables they had heard. The teacher wondered, “Have you understood all this?” in reply the followers answered, “Yes.” However, if they were hooked up to a polygraph machine I highly doubt that the disciples’ words would have come back as truthful. Perhaps they thought they comprehended all of Jesus’ words. Maybe they hoped they knew what Jesus was talking about, but even two thousand years later this onslaught of parables slips through our proverbial fingers. And, thank God that they do.

The greatness of parables comes in that they continually challenge the hearer to move from a stagnant position to comprehend a fuller meaning. Even throughout this week the way that I hear the six parables from this Gospel lesson will change. To glean more fully the kernels of wisdom within this set of analogous stories about the reign of God I must and we must listen dynamically. “Let those with ears listen” is Jesus’ repeated imperative for a reason. Yet, even when we may not fully understand these stories, like the disciples allegedly did, as we continue to listen and learn about them they will shape and transform us. At a quick pace, these are the details that stand out as I float through these six stories.

First, the parable of the mustard bush, as well as the parable of the leaven fall right after the parable of the weeds and the wheat and before its interpretation, which made up last week’s Gospel lesson.

Second, both of these parables (mustard bush and leaven) have such positive connotations now and yet, in their original context these were unwanted occurrences. Jesus, in Matthew, spoke these stories about pesky parts of life back-to-back-to-back to hit home that even what we believe might be problematic now God has control over in the end. For mustard bushes were considered weeds, but with God’s help the tiny nuisance grew to be a great home for birds. Leaven was spoiled bread that was used to start new loaves, but very tricky to get right—it could even lead to food poisoning and death. When one did get it right, like this woman (an analogous character for Jesus) what resulted was a feast enough for a wedding banquet or two.

Third, the next two parables (treasure in a field and the fine pearl) represent a shift in Jesus’ discourse from what things could hold back the reign of God to what discovering that reign is worth. Previously as we have heard these parables, they have pointed to how people or the evil one could keep the Jesus Movement from building momentum. These two statements about giving away everything to go in search of transformation through God represent a change in directions towards how valuable the reign of God truly is.

Fourth, the parable of the net feeds back into a theme from the parable of the weeds and the wheat. At the end of the age a time of discernment will transpire. In both parables angels make the decisions about who are weeds or bad fish and who are wheat or good fish. Human beings do not make this call, rather representatives of God determine the good and the bad. While many will claim they know the will of God, Jesus makes clear that our presumed role as judge stands out as fruitless!

Finally, a hidden sixth parable lies within the conversation between Jesus and his disciples. The parable of the scribe trained for the kingdom of heaven makes it clear that seeking the reign of God requires every means at our disposal. We cannot sit back only relying upon the ways of the past in our Tradition, nor would it be prudent to ignore the lessons we have learned in the past. Treasure both old and new will guide us into the richness of life in Christ.

As one prepares for this week’s Gospel lesson a modern parable might be helpful. This week’s Good News reminds me of fixing a meal with both leftovers and new ingredients available from my kitchen. Certainly Thanksgiving turkey makes a great meal on its own; however, who does not love making delicious turkey sandwiches the next day? This week’s Gospel lesson is a veritable smorgasbord with lessons connecting back to the parables we have heard recently and at the same time pointing to new wisdom regarding the value of seeking out God’s reign. May we all be full of God’s richness this week!

The Saint Behind the Saints

 On a beautiful spring day in 2003 I calmly walked into an auditorium at Vestavia Hills High School. The entire student body and many parents were gathered for the annual awards day assembly. All of the honors given to both underclassmen and seniors were kept in secret from the students until that day. Of course, parents of the students were informed so that they could attend the ceremony. Midway through the presentation the principal began describing the accolades of the Service Award recipient. I recall thinking that whoever this person was sounded a lot like me. He or she was involved in many of the same activities, served within my organizations, and even participated in my favorite service clubs. Eventually though it became clear that this person was not someone I knew, but was indeed me.

Whatever placid feelings I had at the beginning of that day had vanished and I was overwhelmed with a strange wash of emotions. I had never set out to serve others for recognition, so I felt uncomfortable walking onstage to receive an honor. And yet, I was happy that the projects that I cared about were being put in the spotlight vicariously. Then, I felt embarrassed when a wave of pride rolled over me. By the time I returned to my seat with friends congratulating me I did not know what to think. The corny phrase “Character is what you do when no one is looking” ran through my mind. Finally, I remember thinking of all the other students who deserved this pat on the back for engaging in service as much if not more than I did. Strangely this last thought has stuck with me more than anything else from that day.

Quite often the person who most deserves praise for some deed or accomplishment does not receive credit for her hard work. We rarely recall other Civil Rights Movement leaders that stood beside and behind the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or Mrs. Rosa Parks. We remember names like Whitney, Morse, or Bell for their inventions, but easily brush aside anyone who laid the groundwork for them or assisted them as they discovered something novel. We forget so easily the names of musicians who left bands like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, or Fleetwood Mac right before they made it big. Most times it seems the ones who are working in the background or who support the big names are not remembered in the same way as those who were in the right place at the right time.

Recently we celebrated Basil the Great in the Church. Often he is given credit for being the founder of monasticism within the entire eastern branch of Christianity. However, he did not do this on his own. In fact, without his sister Macrina the Younger whom we remember today, Basil would have known very little about running a community of monastics.

Macrina lived an extraordinary, inspirational life that often gets overshadowed by her brothers’ fame. You probably thought that was a typo as I wrote brothers’ fame, instead of brother’s fame, but Macrina had multiple brothers whom we remember as saints. In total she had 10 brothers and though she was the eldest and perhaps the most innovative, spiritual, and grounded Basil, along with Gregory of Nyssa and Peter became bishops! All of her siblings came to her though to learn the teachings of Jesus and how to live out a life devoted to Christ.

When Macrina’s father died, she and her mother built a Christian community on family land. They lived a life without possessions, brought in women who were starving, and even taught many of these women to be dedicated followers of Jesus.[1] Her example inspired her brothers to renounce possessions and start Christian communities on their own. Unfortunately, like so many other times throughout history we remember the man, but not the woman behind the man. In this case, Macrina was the saint behind the saints!

For us who seek to live lives inspired by, transformed through, and enveloped within the community of God—that is the Trinity—we would do well to learn a lesson from Macrina and how she has been remembered. Nothing we do is for the credit of it on its own. Often someone else will receive the praise we so selfishly desire. Truthfully though if we are to thrive in the life of God we must seek not our own glory but God’s. That is what Macrina did and it is what we will do if we walk in the way of Christ. May you too be a saint behind the saints. Amen.

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[1] Kiefer, James. "Macrina." Mission of Saint Clare. July 19, 2017. http://www.missionstclare.com/english/July/morning/19m.html (accessed July 19, 2017).

The Payback of Grace

The story of Joseph and his brothers always blows me away. I remember as a tween—that odd age between childhood and adolescence—when my parents dragged me to see a community theatre production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Even though I tried to not like the story because I had all those pre-teenage hormones making me extremely irritable, I could not help but love the show. I was so impressed with it that I made my sister burn me a CD copy of the Broadway production’s rendition. “It was red and yellow and purple and gold…” those words still get stuck in my head occasionally.

Well, today we find ourselves a little further along in the story of Joseph and his brothers than the bit about the coat of many colors. A famine persisted everywhere in the known world. Joseph’s brothers were sent to find food if they could. Joseph had been set over all the food as a trusted advisor and governor appointed by Pharaoh himself. Strangely though Joseph did not immediately show himself to his brothers, but at first he made them wait in anticipation. Did they actually get food to survive? Did the brothers save their people? Were Joseph and his brothers reconciled? All of these and more questions unfold as this story from Genesis climaxes. Something from today’s reading though stood out to me as odd.

After Joseph’s brothers had agreed to leave one brother—Joseph would eventually choose Simeon from among them—the brothers said something that we might simply pass on by without another thought. “They said to one another, ‘Alas, we are paying the penalty for what we did to our brother; we saw his anguish when he pleaded with us, but we would not listen. That is why this anguish has come upon us.’” If you do not recall the other brothers were jealous of Joseph and so they threw him in a hole, took his coat, and made it seem as though he was dead. In fact, they really did leave him for dead, but he was rescued and taken off as a slave to Egypt. Rueben wanted to defend his own actions, but in the end all of them were guilty. However, what stands out as strange comes in that these brothers attribute their current lot in life to something they did years ago—something horrible, yes, but still an event from deep in their pasts.

Perhaps you do not find this moment peculiar. The brothers linking one event in their lives and a current misfortune does not actually sound unlike what many people often do. I have heard friends, family, and even sometimes my own inner thoughts, which say, “You are getting this [positive or negative thing] because you did this [positive or negative thing].” Is this not a natural human tendency? Do we not all struggle sometimes with this belief that all of what we get in life is a result of what we have earned for ourselves in some form or fashion. Well, God’s love and life in the reality of that love does not work that way.

In the person of Joseph we see the compassion and love of God exemplified in this moment. As his brothers insist that they deserve their fate of famine, Joseph turns away from them to weep for he cannot stand to hear these words. Even though they abandoned him Joseph gracefully yearns for them to be made whole. We may think he could have revealed himself immediately, but to get his whole family back to him he felt that he must enact the rest of his plan. Still, what strikes me is that Joseph even then could see that life was not about getting what we deserve. God does not wish to punish us for what we have done.

Human beings may be inherently flawed in a multitude of ways, but God’s overwhelming love as exemplified in Joseph and ultimately represented in the person of Jesus helps us to see that true life is not an eye-for-an-eye endeavor. We may very well do awful, terrible, no good, very bad things to one another and to ourselves, still God’s grace points to the truth that the One who creates, redeems, and sustains all does not want to punish us. God wants us to be forgiven, released, reconciled, and redeemed! This is the story of Joseph, the story of Jesus, and this is our story too. May we feel the payback not of past events, but of the grace of God!

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The Rhythm of Prayer

Like most people I have a problem with sitting in traffic. Perhaps this is one of the grandest understatements that has ever come forth from my mouth. I hate traffic. My sister told me yesterday she drove several hours out of the way to avoid some major wreaks on the way home from the beach. I told her I would have done the exact same thing. As I reflected on that I discovered something I did not know about myself. I do not like sitting in gridlock because in that time I feel unproductive.

Each and every one of us has a different obsession and mine very well may be productivity. While I noticed the quirk occasionally, it took a friend and fellow priest—during the sermon at Kim’s and my wedding no less—saying that I practice “the strange act of over-functioning” for me to realize that sometimes my deep desire to contribute may actually have a negative side to it. In this way all gifts stand out as double-edged swords. Being productive may be wonderful sometimes, but if it prevents one from ever resting or sitting in traffic without panic, then is it not also a curse? There is more to life than checking everything off our to-do lists or bucket lists or honey do lists.

The rhythms of our lives change constantly. One week may be filled with visitors coming into town, big projects at work, planning for a trip, and a million other things. The next week may show a calendar that has only a couple of events scarcely populating it. If we are not careful we will allow the rhythm of our lives dictate how we relate to one another, to our own souls, and to God. Strangely enough when we put our relationship with God first the other aspects of life fall into place more simply—not necessarily perfectly or without work, but more simply nonetheless. This is why you may often hear clergy people talking about a rule of life.

A rule of life is a set of guidelines that help one to order one’s life such that she or he can most fittingly experience the profound grace within relationships with self, others, and God. Today in the life of the Church we celebrate Saint Benedict of Nursia whose ministry as a monastic, abbot, and leader pointed to living out a rule of life that puts God first. Taking a look at his way of living provides a richer way of living not into worldly productivity, but into a spiritual fullness.

The order of Saint Benedict has a very particular way that they go about their communal life that still exists to this day. For a Benedictine monastic four hours of the day are spent in liturgical prayer (i.e. the Daily Office or Holy Communion) including the recitation of the entire Psalter every week; five hours of the day are spent in spiritual study and reading; six hours are spent doing labor of some kind; one hour is reserved for eating; and eight hours are spent sleeping.[1] This way of ordering one’s life gives a very particular rhythm that completely focuses upon God—no wonder the Benedictine Order has been so widely practiced since the 6^th Century! While this method works well for some what about those of us who cannot—at least not at the moment—dedicate 24 hours a day to a monastic lifestyle predicated on vows of “obedience, stability, and conversion of life”?[2]

Something our rector, Evan Garner, likes to say is that whether we know it or not we all have a rule of life—we just may not be aware of how we are ordering things. A very telling practice is keeping a journal of our activities. Where are we spending our time and energy? Another telling practice can be looking at a bank statement. Where am I putting my treasure? We may believe that our focus ought to be on cramming as much into every moment of the day as possible; however, often what I find so freeing about putting God and spiritual practices first is that everything else then falls into place.

We already have rules of life. Are we putting concepts like productivity over relationship with God? How will we take a hard look at our lives, so that we may ensure that God comes first?

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[1] Kiefer, James. "Benedict." Mission of Saint Clare. July 11, 2017. http://www.missionstclare.com/english/July/morning/11m.html (accessed July 11, 2017).

[2] Ibid.

Clue

What is your favorite board game? Is it Monopoly? Are you a Cranium Fan? What about Trivial Pursuit? For a period of my youth my favorite board game was Clue.

If you are unfamiliar with the concept of Clue—a board game that even spawned a movie based on it—you can check out this website with full rules on how to play. Briefly though, one moves around his or her character into different rooms on the board, then makes suggestions about who committed a murder in that particular room and with what weapon—gory I know!  As the suggestions are disproven, the players mark off these options on their detective notebook. A player after gathering sufficient clues, then can make an accusation of who committed the murder, where, and by what method. If the accusation is correct the player wins, but if not the player is finished. Wow, those are some high stakes! This final element of Clue always provided the most enjoyable element of the game.

Strangely though, to me there never seemed that much of a difference between a suggestion and an accusation. However, as I have gotten older I see this distinction more clearly. If someone suggested that I might be somewhere at a particular time and had a particular weapon on me that would be one offensive thing, but to accuse me of actually going through with a crime seems like a much more sad and sadistic story. When I read the Old Testament lesson for this coming Sunday in which Abraham nearly kills Isaac at God’s command I get this same odd feeling, as many strange suggestions can easily be made about the main characters.

When reading Genesis 22:1-14 many of us have a hard time not hurling accusations at both Abraham and God. First, the passage begins with an unflattering depiction of God testing faithful Abraham. What kind of God does that? Then, the faithful servant actually begins to go through with the gruesome act of sacrificing his only son. Isaac the observant child that he was noticed something was off, but his father cryptically pointed to God providing the animal for sacrifice when they got to the burning site. While the story ends well with only a ram being sacrificed—maybe PETA would not think so—it always leaves me feeling like I need to take a shower or at least wash my hands. How does this story speak to who God truly is?

One of the most intriguing parts of the game Clue was the fact that the answer to all the questions surrounding the murder were hidden right within an envelope at the center of the board. In that envelope were three cards: one telling the murderer, one telling the place, and one telling the weapon. The answers were tantalizingly close! At the same time in the hands of all the players are the rest of the clues, which combined also tell the details of the crime by providing all the facts that are not in the envelope. Often when I talk about God—especially in light of this passage from Genesis—all I want is to know what lies within God’s envelope, but all I get is what is on the outside. In other words, God alone knows what truly happened between God and Abraham and Isaac. What we must do is learn about God from all the outside details.

Through Holy Scripture we maintain that Abraham was a faithful servant and God remains faithful always, but how do we rectify a God who made his servant prove devotion through a near murder? One way that Christians often move around this passage is by pointing to God not withholding Jesus, God’s only Son, when he died on the Cross. While I maintain this is a profoundly valid point, I feel it sidesteps this passage from Genesis cutting the theological meaning from underneath it. If we are to be faithful readers of this text what is God hiding in the proverbial envelope? What does this story tell us about God and us?

While we may not know the mind of God, we do know what the Scripture itself says in this passage. Abraham and the community of faith believed that God was testing the father of Isaac in that moment. We know that Abraham did not revel in that moment. We know that he sheepishly led his son who sheepishly questioned where the animal was for the sacrifice. We know that the angel stepped in to stop this homicide from taking place. We know finally that Abraham was willing to be faithful to God even if it meant giving up the one person he had hoped for and God had promised him. So is that it? Just be faithful—even if it means attempting murder? Simply put, no!

This story of being faithful was helpful to a people and it remains a source of energy and conversation for faithful people to this day. Still, we are called to be people who do not tolerate violence of any kind. We must be people who point to the figure on the Cross and say this is the terrible place where violence leads us. While we remain faithful people like Abraham, we must also be people like Isaac who willingly take on self-sacrifice in our lives. The Northern Irish author and theologian Peter Rollins once said, “Violence is the end of dialogue.”[1] When we enact any sort of violence whether physical, spiritual, or otherwise upon one another we no longer are able to share God’s peace which passes all understanding. God still gives it, but we are no longer sharing in it.

We might not know what lies within the enveloping Spirit of God. We might have no clue what happened to faithful Abraham when he was tested by God—save for what Scripture tells us. We may not know precisely how God will test us. However, we who follow the Risen Christ cannot be people who turn to violence in any form. If our Savior willingly accepted the violence perpetrated against him we too must learn to willingly take on the violence of this world. The way we confront this force is not with retaliation, but with the greatest strength this world has ever seen: self-emptying love!

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[1]Rollins, Peter. "Festival of Homiletics: Preaching to Violence." Speech, Minneapolis, MN, 2014.