God Forbid!

Those hardest moments of life often come when we look at something happening right in front of us and we just cannot stand to let it happen. The slow decline of a loved one’s health, the dissolution of a cherished friendship, moving to an unfamiliar place, losing a desired job, or many other unexpected events challenge us to say things like, “Heaven forbid!” We struggle as a species with these big transitions. Well, how much more did Peter fight back when the person whom he had just realized was the Messiah now spoke of his impending suffering and death?

This week’s Gospel lesson challenges us to see characteristics that we so rarely want to put together. Son of the Most High God meant Messiah or Savior or one who came to put things right. This person was the hope of an entire people. This person would have properly come in riding high, garbed in conquering armor, and belayed by the cheers of the powerful elite. To associate this champion with suffering and death would have been so abhorrent as to cause one to stop dead in his or her tracks. Peter indeed could not wrap his mind around a suffering savior, a maligned messiah, or a dying Jesus because that is just not how things were supposed to happen.

At our staff meeting this morning a colleague commented about this reading that we seem to get Peter wrong. We want to make him the bad guy, she said. And, to tell you the truth she is right, and we are frankly wrong. We want to make Peter into the guy who is making the big mistake, but as I put myself in his shoes I find myself saying, “God forbid it! You cannot die! This cannot be happening!” I become a stumbling block just like Peter was. So knowing this what do we do? How do I un-block myself?

In a vacuum it is quite easy to say that we ought to roll with the punches of life. We may hope that when we come face-to-face with a shocking realization of death, loss, or transition we will easily adjust. Somehow though, I believe I will always be a little bit like Peter in these moments. He did not want his teacher, his leader, and his friend to suffer or die. He had found a place where his life was most alive, his soul was awakened, and his spirit felt on fire, and now this was all to come to a crashing halt with the death of his dear Jesus. Obviously, he was upset! Of course, “God forbid!” In the mess of life though, how do we keep trusting God? How do we keep following Jesus?

Perhaps the how is not the best question. We all will follow Jesus in our own way. In the darkest moments it will be so, so difficult, but there is another question worth asking before we wonder, "How?" We must go first to the why question. Why are we following Jesus? Even though we know that death came knocking even at our Savior's door? Why follow the Messiah who dies? I think strangely the suffering, Cross, and death of Jesus are preciously why we do follow him. We follow him because we know that even in death Jesus will go with us. Our Savior willingly took on death, not so that we could avoid death, but so that we would not experience it without him. Jesus walked before us and walks with us into suffering and pain and loss and transition and death. Is this not the Messiah we want, the one who goes with us?

A suffering savior does not make sense in the ways of this world. Society craves power and one-up-man-ship. Culture strives to outrun death. Our faith calls us in a different direction though. We are called to walk assuredly in the direction of suffering and loss and even death because that is where Jesus walked and that is where Jesus is walking. We may start with “heaven forbid it!”—and that is the most human of responses—but on the other side of that we are called to say, “Not my will, but yours be done.” For we are called like Jesus to take up suffering and death as we take hold of our own crosses. Then, and truly only then, on the other side of that cross and death will we find resurrected life!

On Mint, Dill, and Cumin

Today's Lessons:
1 Thess. 2:1–8
Ps. 139:1–9
Matt. 23:23–26

If you have driven past Kim’s and my little house on Walnut Street over the last few weeks, I am sorry. The hedges are growing a little too tall. The Jackson Vine has gotten out of control. The grass is starting to reach dangerous levels. To be frank we are being overrun. The rain and a newborn have prevented us from having ample time to care for much of our yard. We will get it fixed. Either that or our neighbors will forcibly remove us. One part of our yard does however look great.

Right by our back door a tiny patch of garden is in nearly pristine condition. My wife and mother-in-law have made sure that our little vegetable and herb garden are safe from weeds and varmints. To grow basil, thyme, mint, and rosemary has been one of the easiest parts of maintaining our yard. In fact, we have had to do almost nothing but pick weeds that are crowding these spices out. When Jesus says to the scribes and Pharisees that they are tithing herbs, I am starting to understand more fully what he meant.

Jesus challenged the religious people of his day to see that they were focused on ritual practices that were easier to accomplish, while they neglected those more challenging aspects of living together in community—not unlike a tenant letting his yard grow up tall with weeds. Sometimes we turn our religious practices into a game with a certain set of rules. I will be good when I say my prayers, go to church, and give a tithe. The scribes and Pharisees created a similar system in their day. They wanted to project the illusion that they were making large sacrifices when what they really did was tie heavy burdens on others, while refraining from any sacrificial living themselves. Thus, they tithed mint, dill, and cumin—common herbs cheap and easy to grow—while they did not pursue justice, mercy, and faith. Just to be clear this is not just something true of previous religious folk, as I find Jesus’ words convicting of my own actions.

Our world exists in a perilous period. People are armed with hatred, fear, and distrust. If we focus only on doing what is easy for the sake of fulfilling some arbitrary goal—like the Pharisee’s tithing herbs—Christ’s words will have seemingly fallen on deaf ears. Jesus yearned for those religious people in his day to take up justice, mercy, and faith as their lives’ work. I believe Jesus still desires this from us. 

How will we pursue justice? In what ways are we being merciful to others? When are we practicing our faith? These are wonderful starting questions for us to ponder, and let us start with the last first. 

When are we practicing our faith? Our church is about to go through some big physical changes. This is an extremely exciting time and has required people here to tithe much more than a few herbs. Our church has been extremely generous. As we feel some displacement and discomfort, we have an opportunity to spend some time being faithful in different ways. We must trust that God will guide us through this. We must have faith in God.

In what ways are we being merciful to others? This might be the most readily available practice for us to engage in and at the same time the most difficult to live into with vigor. God is always merciful to us. We mess up 100 times a day and God forgives us each and every time. And yet, we so often turn to our neighbors expecting them to do even more. Whether on FaceBook, in the neighborhood, at church, or elsewhere we are called to let go of the debts we hold against others. Be merciful to others as God is merciful to us.

Finally, how will we pursue justice? This world is unjust to so many people because of where they were born, their skin color, their beliefs, their gender, their sexual orientation, or their identity in some other way. We who have been given power or privilege as a birthright must be advocates and allies for those who have not historically had a voice. This is challenging work, but God who is just yearns for this world to be like God’s Kingdom where all have a place at the table. We must seek justice as God fights for justice.

Living in the way of Christ is not easy. We cannot simply bring a few herbs and spices to the table and call it a day. Instead we who have been given grace by God are called into living out this grace with others. As followers of Jesus let our identities be about justice, mercy, and faith. 

The Evolution of Suffering

Suffering has evolved and moved into the spotlight, but what about our intentions behind hard work?

We pick up this coming Sunday where this past Sunday’s Gospel lesson left us. Peter correctly answered Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” with the Messiah, and now we hear what it means to be the Son of the Living God. Namely this week, we discover that to be the Messiah one must undergo suffering and death and only then after complete surrender does God overcome death. At some point this week I am sure I will turn to Peter’s response to this statement, but to-day I am captivated by suffering.

When I was a child I can remember being captivated by many other things not at all related to suffering. One such mesmerizing figure of my youth was Michael Jordan. His three NBA championships before moving to Birmingham of all places to try out baseball for a couple of years, his place on the Olympic “Dream Team” in 1992, and his emblematic free throw line dunk all fascinated me. Perhaps it was solely his giftedness, but I think it also had to do with the “If I Could Be Like Mike” Gatorade commercial from 1992. I recall both wanting to be more like Jordan and consuming a lot of Gatorade as a result of that advertisement. As I look back though, something else stands out.

If one were to watch that commercial several times over one might not pick up on something that seems so glaring in light of modern commercials. The “Like Mike” spot featured kids playing joyfully and Jordan himself smiling and laughing, as well as performing at an ultimately high level. We miss in that minute-long advertisement the behind-the-scenes perseverance and practice that it took to achieve such a high standard of athleticism. At the time, the public was seemingly not ready to consume commercials dedicated to the suffering that it took to get to Jordan’s level. Fast forward twenty-five years and the landscape of suffering has evolved.

Today, our view on suffering—at least in pursuit of some goals—has changed. A 2014 Gatorade Ad entitled, “Hard Work” depicts athletes waking up before dawn to chase down their greatest ambitions. Other commercials from sporting goods companies, headphone makers, and even smartphone manufacturers show both professionals and amateurs pursuing difficult goals by making big sacrifices. So what happened in the last twenty-five years to bring suffering to the forefront?

We as a society have become more accustomed to seeing people work terrifically hard to achieve their personal ambitions. As our ideals shift from working our-selves to the bone to climb the corporate ladder to working ourselves to the bone for some sort of personal achievement, getting into shape, or improving overall health, we seem more ready to endure something painful or difficult; however, we undertake these challenges for goals that fade as quickly as the grass on a field of competition which gets no water. Do not get me wrong, I am one of the first to run after a hairy ambition that is nothing more than a personal goal, and on some level this pursuit is noble and worthwhile. Still, the betrayal, suffering, and death Jesus undertook was not so that he was personally better, faster, or stronger. No, Jesus' work on the Cross was and is about something else entirely.

The question that I must ask myself in the shadow of the Cross is why am I willing to undertake selfish, personal sacrifices, but I struggle to extend myself in the same way when Christ asks me to suffer with him? I have seen an evolution of suffering as it has moved from the shadows into the limelight of commercial America, but when will I notice a shift in the intention of why I undertake the challenges that lay in front of me? Christ willingly withstood the pain of the Cross in part so that I would not have to face the agony of death, but I believe he did this also to show me and us our own path forward.

We do not have to achieve our way into God's love. It is a free gift to us all. Somewhere within God's unconditional love though is a calling. We are called into selfless suffering, as Jesus calls us to take up our own crosses to follow him. This is not a pursuit of self-improvement, but rather a task of self-denial as we relinquish everything, so that Christ may live fully within us. This is the giving up of the cloak and coat, the walking the second mile, and the turning the other cheek that Jesus teaches. As I continue to contemplate this coming Sunday’s Good News may I be even just a little more willing to walk with Christ even when it is into the pain of suffering.

Background Role

In the spring of 2010 I traveled to New Orleans with some friends. There were four of us total who took in the sights and sounds of the Big Easy. We ate at famous restaurants and hole-in-the-wall places, took a walk down Bourbon Street, rode the trolleys, and generally had a blast. When looking back on the trip though something strange emerges. Although there were four of us along for the ride, the pictures make it look as though there were only three of us there.

Back in the dark ages before every cell phone doubled as a smart phone and tripled as a decent camera—back in those days—one had to use a digital camera to capture moments. One of my friends just so happened to be the person who always grabbed the camera to take pictures of the rest of us. Although I remember my photographer friend enjoying the trip, making all of us crack up in laughter, and deepening our relationship in the process, the way that I remember his part in that trip differs because of the lack of photographic evidence. In much the same way, the Apostle Bartholomew quietly witnessed Jesus’ earthly ministry almost blending into the background in the process.

Today we celebrate the life and martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew whom the synoptic Gospel writers remember as an Apostle. While his name appears in Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s lists of disciples, we do not hear another detail about his life within Holy Scripture. Legend professes that Bartholomew suffered a gruesome death in which he was skinned alive on the Caspian Sea. Other than this tale and Bartholomew’s inclusion in Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, we do not have many details about this saint. Still, Bartholomew was part of the Jesus movement in his day and well worth us remembering.

Throughout Jesus’ ministry Bartholomew remained present witnessing the life, death, and resurrected existence of Jesus. When Jesus called people to follow him and become fishers of people Bartholomew took up that call. During Jesus’ teaching Bartholomew was there. As Jesus healed the sick, the blind, and the lame Bartholomew was there. At the moment when Jesus fed the masses Bartholomew was there. Even when Jesus raised people from the dead Bartholomew was there.

As Jesus’ ministry focused in on Jerusalem and the events of Holy Week, there too Bartholomew was there. Bartholomew walked into the Holy City laying Palm Branches down in front of Jesus. Bartholomew partook of the Last Supper and had his feet washed by Jesus. Bartholomew heard the great commandment to love one another as Jesus had loved them. Even when Jesus was betrayed, tortured, and killed Bartholomew—although sheepishly from a distance—must have experienced these moments too.

On the Sunday morning when Jesus rose from the dead, Bartholomew also experienced the mystifying aftermath of the Resurrection. Hidden in the upper room Bartholomew was present when Jesus appeared to his disciples to show them the path of life goes through death. Bartholomew’s own life must have also been transformed if the legend of his martyrdom remains true. Even if he did not play a prominent role in Holy Scripture we receive a powerful witness from the life and death of this saint.

Our lives with Christ do not always have to be flashy like Saint Peter or verbose like Saint Paul. We do not have to be ethereal like Saint John or evangelical like Saint Andrew. We may not be dutiful like the Blessed Virgin Mary or compassionate like Saint Mary Magdalene. Sometimes we must embody the spiritual life of Saint Bartholomew. Sometimes we benefit from watching from the background as Jesus transforms our lives. Once we witness the life, death, and Resurrection of Jesus we may experience the same type of overwhelming transformation as Bartholomew. May we follow his witness and regardless of what part we play in the story—may our story become part of the story of Christ!

Still Looking

The summer of 2011 was unbearable hot in San Antonio, Texas. Even though I tried desperately to venture into the outside world only before dawn or after dusk, moments arose when I boldly confronted the overwhelming heat. In those brisk walks from my car to the hospital where I was working the “real feel” temperature often crept over 110°. Scorching temperatures provided an adequate backdrop for the noble quest afoot. For eleven weeks I worked as a hospital chaplain.

Clinical Pastoral Education or C.P.E. remains a dreaded requirement of all Episcopal seminarians in which they serve in some chaplaincy setting. At first glance one might think C.P.E. could hardly count as a daunting task; however, walking boldly into a stranger’s room to offer prayers, counsel, or just a listening ear took every ounce of courage that I could muster. Even more intimidating than the encounters with people suffering from chronic pain, cancer diagnoses, recovery from surgery, or a host of other ailments were the moments when I had to sit in front of a group of peers and my supervisor to talk about all the ways that I had botched the visit. A Baptist minister named Steve served as that supervisor, and—as hard as it is for me to say—by the end of the summer he helped me to realize that I had been going about the program entirely wrong.

Steve used a method that reminds me of a karate master who so adeptly employs defensive moves that eventually his opponent tires out, lets his guard down, and provides an opening for the crucial blow to be landed. After almost every statement from one of the C.P.E. interns Steve would say, “I’m curious about that.” Then I was forced to confront the validity of my statement. Was I just saying what I was saying or did I mean it? Was it some greater Truth from God or was it some automatic response that served as a defense mechanism? Was it church speak or the reality of God? In our final one-on-one evaluation Steve provided some of the hardest and most fruitful words I have ever heard.

As we talked about my time as a C.P.E. student, Steve expressed some praise before pointing out an obvious statement that still serves as a North Star on my life journey. He said, “Seth, you are like a great adventurer who has been on this monumental quest. This entire summer you have been seeking validation, praise, and approval from others—like it was the Holy Grail. What you have found throughout this summer is that God already buried the treasure right where you are. You have everything you search for already here within you.” I remember crying when I heard Steve say these things because no one had ever been so honest with me. While I am not positive, I am confident that the person who approached Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson may have felt very similarly.

This story of the young man coming to discover how to be good sounds so familiar to us. I often overlook details when I engage a story that I have heard so many times, but as I read these words this morning I found myself caught on a detail. The young man had been doing what I had been doing when I was trying to be a good hospital chaplain. He was doing his very best to earn his way into eternal life by following every letter of the law. Those of us who have made our spiritual life a sort of to-do list we must check off may know this feeling all too well—that even when we finish everything we still find ourselves lacking. Primarily this is because we are seeking the wrong thing and in the wrong place.

Whether it is this young man, me, or even you, we all at some time or another have made life in Christ a chore and not a relationship. The crucial moment when I had to confront the truth that Steve told me and I believe the crucial moment for this young man was discovering that it was not about getting something done or following a certain set of guidelines, but rather letting go of all else, so that we may wholeheartedly follow Jesus. When we release all possessions, all expectations, all control, and everything else, then we discover a treasure far greater than anything material on this earth.

The treasure that we seek is buried not on some far off island, nor beneath an “X”, nor can it be purchased from a website or catalog. Relationship with Jesus—fullness of life—the greatest treasure of all human history lies hidden right here within ourselves. Questing to find it does not require us to follow a litany of rules, but rather a relinquishing of all that may keep us from truly seeking. We all are still looking for a deepening of that relationship with Jesus, but as we do may we look for that treasure within ourselves.

EQB

"Ecce quam bonum et quam jucundum habitare fratres in unum." I am certain that you all understood completely the Latin phrase I just spoke, but just in case here it is in English, "Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." These words begin the one hundred and thirty-third Psalm. They also happen to constitute the motto of Sewanee: The University of the South. These beautiful words from the Psalmist have been carved delicately onto the hearts of many including myself.

Over the past few months after finishing up our mid-week Eucharists in St. Mary’s chapel I have stealthily flipped the lectern Bible open to the page that holds the Psalms around 130, including the 133rd song. Partially I did it to see if anyone would notice or if it would annoy Evan—it has not to my knowledge accomplished that. Even more than trying to subtly pay homage to my school though, I have felt a deep pull towards something beyond myself—towards the goodness of dwelling together in unity.

Driving around Sewanee's mountaintop campus in rural Tennessee one likely will spot many oval stickers on the backs of automobiles, which read EQB—Ecce Quam Bonum—Behold How Good! Not just a bumper sticker people there yearn to be together—in classrooms and lecture halls, in dorm rooms and common areas, in fraternity houses and sorority buildings, on sports fields and wooded trails, at the dining hall and the University Chapel. This concept of dwelling in unity radiates as a particularly excel-ling and somewhat peculiar goal for a four-year institution. Those who have been shaped by that place though, would have it no other way. And while it is not a perfect place void of its own dark ages, God has used that community and places like it to shape to give us a foretaste of heavenly communion. So these opening words of Psalm 133 provide a much needed trajectory for all of us to follow in a world bleak and battered by recent hate-filled events.

Somehow though when I saw that we would sing the 133rd Psalm together this morn-ing my heart let out a painful sigh. This groan was filled with desperation for at this particular moment God's desire for us to dwell together seems a far off pipe dream. The events in Charlottesville, VA last weekend—the scared actions of some too afraid to see the truth that God yearns for all to dwell together—and the pulsating shock-waves of anger, fear, and violence, which crested afterward—not only point out the widening discrepancies that exist between people in this country, but also that a chasm separates "the nightmare that this world often is and the way God dreams it can be” –to borrow a line from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry.

We can so easily isolate ourselves into self-segregated tribes that confine us and live into this nightmare. Hatred, aggression, and hostility towards others have made dwelling together in unity seem a nearly impossible hope. And yet, through Christ all things are possible.

In today's Gospel lesson we discover how Jesus dealt with three separate relationships that existed precariously along fault lines—not unlike what our world feels like today. Jesus' relationship with the Pharisees, his disciples, and a Canaanite woman point to God's desire for unity to overcome estrangement, for Communion to dispel isolation-ism, for grace to outshine hatred. In each relationship we discover how we may dwell more deeply in Communion, while not befriending oppression in the process.

First, Jesus loved to spar with the educated, religious people of his day—the Pharisees. His difficulty with them had less to do with their being religious and more to do with how they let being religious get in the way of sharing God's love freely with others. Along this line, Jesus warned against following blindly man-made laws regarding what makes one pure or holy. External practices do not lead to salvation, rather the power of God's spiritual healing within oneself leads to sacredness. Jesus appears wary of a religion that scapegoats the other.

Next, Jesus' relationship with his disciples appeared unsteady, as he frustratingly yearned for them to see God's realm more fully. When Jesus pointed out that what comes out matters far more than what goes in his disciples worried how the Pharisees had received Jesus' teaching. The disciples struggled with leaving the comfort of their familiar religion behind. They could not understand why Jesus wanted them to do something new. The challenge Jesus lay before his disciples focused on having a broader vision: behold what leads to living grace-filled lives and let go of the vestiges that no longer lead to unity with God and neighbor. If religion prevents new growth, then it is fruitless.

Finally, we turn to this relationship between Jesus and the Canaanite woman. Upon entering Tyre and Sidon, a place filled with others who were not part of God's plan of salvation, a Canaanite woman began hounding Jesus and his disciples. She sought healing for her demon-stricken daughter.  Jesus paid her no mind—ignoring her entirely. His disciples were not as adept at tuning out hecklers, and they begged Jesus to send her away. So, Jesus said to his disciples, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." If this were not harsh enough, as the woman knelt before him Jesus replied with some of the most difficult words found in red lettering within the whole New Testament: "It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs."

• Is God's dream not unity among all children?
• Is grace not extended to all?
• Are there really outsiders and insiders in God's realm?

Sometimes grace surprisingly breaks through from an unexpected source. After being compared to a dog the Canaanite woman persisted. She daringly called out Jesus, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table." She under-stood that God's grace extended even to her. Others may have seen her as despicable, annoying, and part of the wrong group, but she had faith in God's love—she got that grace destroys boundaries between us—she knew that grace implores us to live to-gether in unity. Even if Jesus himself did not yet see it, she did. She knew God's ex-pansive abundance—God’s love embraces us all even the despised Canaanite. Her faith was indeed remarkable, for it was faith in a grace that united her with God and united God with all.

We live in a time when divisions exist as deep and wide as those between Jesus and the Pharisees, between Israelites and Canaanites. The scared actions of a few continue to inflame society in anger, fear, and violence. We are far from the dream of Psalm 133 to dwell together in unity, but we must not give into hatred, despair, or aggression our-selves. Instead we must hope. Hope like the Canaanite woman. Hope in a grace that extends even to those presumed to be on the outside. Hope so greatly in God's reign that we are willing to stand up to whomever opposes the outstretching love that unites all.

And with this bold hope let God turn our faith in action, for we are called to act. We are called to act like the Canaanite woman even if it means we have to stand up to Jesus himself. Let us always be on the side of grace extending not just to the few, but to all. If we ever hope to dwell together in the unity of God it will come when we share grace as freely as it is given to us by God! Behold how good and pleasant it is to dwell together in unity through God's grace extending to all.

Are Some Not Planted By God?

This coming Sunday's Gospel lesson(s) (?) is (are) a doozy. I write it that way because there is more than one story present in Matthew 15:10-28. At least on the surface a multitude of stories exist within this passage of God's Good News.

First, Jesus tells the crowd a parable about inner purity outweighing laws regarding how or what one eats. His disciples cannot quite wrap their minds around their teacher's words. At some point the setting shifts and it is just Jesus and his disciples.

As the disciples wonder about what Jesus said they bring some Pharisees' complaints to Jesus. This detail seems like a strange one worth returning to at some point, as it speaks to passive-aggressive triangulation putting the disciples between Jesus and the Pharisees. Jesus' reply to the disciples appears cryptic and threatening: "Every plant that my Heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted." Here a question gets raised that seems to resound through the rest of this lengthy passage: are some not planted by God? Then, Jesus lays on another layer of insult to the religious elite of the day: "They are blind guides of the blind."  Non-visionary leadership such as this then and today leads to fruitless squandering, withering, and injury of all souls involved. 

Next, Peter asks Jesus to explain the parable that was told to the crowds. Elsewhere in Matthew Jesus kindly opened up other challenging stories to give his disciples a clearer view of the Kingdom of God, and yet here he seems frustrated. "Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles." For Jesus and for us who follow him, living in God's realm requires more than lip service or following the religious rules. We must allow Christ to reign in our hearts and let his love overflow from there.

As the story continues, the setting shifts to Tyre and Sidon. Worth noting the framers of the Revised Common Lectionary allow for the story to begin here instead of with Jesus speaking to the crowds. As Jesus entered Tyre and Sidon a Canaanite woman began shouting at him, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." Soon the disciples thought she was the demon torturing them. In this critical moment for the woman something strange transpired.

When the woman kept shouting, Jesus did not pay her any attention. His disciples meanwhile just wanted the woman to go away; however she persisted. When Jesus said he only came to save the people of Israel to the disciples, yet within earshot of her, the woman knelt before Jesus. Even when Jesus referred to her and her people as dogs, she quick-wittedly questioned Jesus: "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." The question from earlier bubbles back up to the surface: are some not planted by God? When Jesus was challenged by this woman's faithfulness he swiftly brings healing to this woman's daughter and perhaps even more he showed to us that God's planting of seeds expands to the furtherest reaches of God's Creation. May we remember this expansive diversity is God's reality as Jesus initiated and exemplified.

Reckless Love

Jesus talks a whole lot about the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven. If I am not careful I will read parables like the ones we heard today without really thinking about what a kingdom is. We, in the United States of America, are not intimately familiar with kingdoms anymore. Long ago we overthrew tyrannical leadership and while there certainly are disproportions in wealth, power, and status here we do not have dukes, princesses, or kings telling us how to live our lives. So what does it mean to hear what the Kingdom of God is like when there are no kings here?

I do not have a good answer for that. Typically what I believe when I hear about the Kingdom of God is not so much Jesus sitting on a throne of power, but rather Jesus kneeling down to serve the neediest. If we look at  the words Jesus spoke, the life Jesus live, and the Resurrection Jesus underwent we clearly may see that the Kingdom of God is not a kingdom in the earthly sense, but rather a realm that flips the corrupt ways of this world on its head. Let us explore the two short parables Jesus gave us today to understand this further.

“The kingdom of heaven,” Jesus said, “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.” This story sounds confusing. Did the man bury his own treasure in someone else’s yard, then go dig it up? While the original language is not crystal clear, a more logical interpretation of the story goes as follows: one man buries treasure, another man finds the treasure on someone else’s property; the second man digs up the treasure, then buries it back, sells all he has, buys the treasure-laden property, and only then takes hold of his prize. Honestly, this does not sound like any earthly kingdom. There is no logic here.

Looking deeper into this story we find that a man trespassed, dug up someone else’s property, and sold all he had so that he could get some treasure—and this somehow describes God’s realm? If we only use earthly parameters—like logic and reason and good sense—we might think this not only sounds different, but also crazy, risky, and illegal! And yet, Jesus uses this story to describe the way God’s world works. He makes it clear that we must be willing to risk our reputations, our wealth, and even our lives to go in search of God’s way of being. The Kingdom of God is not an easy path or a walk in the park it is risky love.

The second parable confirms that tough way in describing a merchant longing for a pearl. All of us when we are not resting in God will feel restless to paraphrase a line from Saint Augustine of Hippo. Here it is interesting to note that the Kingdom of God is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; not the merchant or the pearls individually, but the one in the action of searching. Again, this realm of God is not like the wisdom of this world, which tells us to diversify our investments. No, the way to God requires us to give all that we have to take hold of that relationship with God, which will in turn multiply our blessings a hundredfold. I am not saying this will be easy or that all will be rich financially who believe. Rather, when we give God everything God in return blesses us with the full abundance of life.

Now, do not walk out of here thinking that I am saying liquefy every asset you have. Do not think that I am saying be reckless with how you live your life. I am not saying be imprudent. Rather, we must be wise as serpents and kind as doves. Still, God’s way of being—God’s Kingdom if you will—calls us to be reckless in love. For love is an infinite resource that we can give to all. In Jesus God shows us the way to love, in the Spirit God gives us the power to do the same. We are called to take part in the love of God to be part of God’s way of life to exist in the Kingdom of God, which is unlike any other kingdom that has ever existed, for it is based completely on reckless love that we share fully with all!