Sunday, July 31, 2022

Noncomplementary Behavior

 

When we create silos we also tend to create separation

Hosea 11:1-11
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
Colossians 3:1-11
Luke 12:13-21

 

The Rev. Seth Olson © 2022

It was a warm summer evening in Washington D.C. when eight friends gathered to raise a glass or two of French wine and share in a delicious dinner. A man named Michael, his Wife, and their 14 year-old daughter were among the guests. The group talked and toasted the night away with laughter filling up the nighttime air. Then, all of a sudden it happened.

An arm stretched out of seemingly nowhere to produce a gun with a long barrel. The hand with the gun belonged to a man. The man was well kempt, dressed in athletic gear, and of medium height and build. He pointed the gun at one of Michael’s friends, then at Michael’s wife. The intruder asked her to give him her money, first in a calm voice, then more hysterically.

Michael and his friends believed the man, but there was a slight problem, none of them had any money. The group of friends next attempted to persuade the man to pursue some alternative path. At first, they tried guilt. “What would your mother think?” they asked. He replied angrily, “I have no mother!” Michael kept thinking, this is going to end terribly, “We may end up dead.”

Then, one of the women at the table, Christina, piped up. She spoke to the man with the gun saying that this group of friends was there celebrating, and why not join them for a glass of wine. A switch went off in the man and the entire group could feel it. All of a sudden the man’s countenance shifted. He took a sip from the glass he was handed and replied, “[Man], that’s a really good glass of wine.” He reached down for some cheese on the table and put the gun in his pocket.

Then, the man uttered, “I think I’ve come to the wrong place.” The group all responded in a supportive way, “We understand.” For a moment they all sat together in this strange bit of fellowship with the celestial lights of the night shining down and the sound of cicadas filling the space of the evening air. At this moment the intruding man, now disarmed, asked, “Can I get a hug?”

One by one the party-goers gave the man a hug. Then he asked for a group hug, which the friends reluctantly gave to the once-threatening man. He said he was sorry, and walked out the gate with a glass of wine in his hand. After catching their breath and calming down a bit the friends found the wine glass on the concrete in the alleyway. It was not smashed and shattered in anger or revolt. It was not haphazardly tossed aside in apathy. No, the glass was neatly placed on the ground. All of the friends went inside to cry in gratitude.[1]

This is a story from the podcast Invisibilia, which means invisible things. The show airs on National Public Radio (NPR) and explores the hidden forces—“ideas, beliefs, assumptions, and emotions”—that control our human behavior. On this particular episode, which aired back in 2016, the program broached a topic called “noncomplementary behavior.” Most of the time when someone treats us in a certain way, our instinctive response is to reply in the same way. When someone does us a favor we respond in turn—when they hurt us, we hurt them. Noncomplementary behavior, though is something different. It is how Jesus lived his life and how he teaches us to live ours as well.

Jesus said “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile” (Matthew 5:38-41). Additionally, he spoke, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (6:27-28). Countless stories Jesus told—including today’s—show us how we can use noncomplementary behavior to reveal God’s Reign, not at some distant time and place, but here and now.

The Good Samaritan was a story to teach his followers to see their enemies as neighbors. The Prodigal Son informed those listening that no matter how far away they thought someone was from the Father, God was always ready to embrace and celebrate a child’s coming home. And in today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus again used noncomplementary behavior to show us that he was not sent to be a judge or an arbitrator, but a teacher and a friend.

A man came to get Jesus to settle the score between his brother and himself. Jesus would do no such thing, alternatively he warned against greed by telling a parable. A man had a bumper crop. To accommodate for this great yield, he contemplated tearing down his barns and building up giant silos instead. This was shrewd business. To build up a new barn was complementary behavior—the crops produced more, so now I must store more. However, the motivation this man felt was not practicality, but rather greed. He wanted to not only build silos, but also to silo himself off from the world saying, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, [and] be merry.” This too is common, complementary behavior in our world.

We are hungry, so we must eat; however, we get greedy—not just for money, but also for power, prestige, and place in this world. Jesus came to teach us the way to the Father that life is more than just the accumulation of status symbols. God says to us just like he said to that man long ago, “You fool! Right now your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” We who have been given of God’s abundance can be tricked into thinking that it belongs to us, and our common instinct pushes us to hide it all away, but that is not what Jesus teaches us here.

This does not mean that you have to liquidate all your assets, that is not what I am saying, but what we store up and how we store it matters. We may believe that we own things in this world, but all of it—every single penny—comes from God and it will return to God. We hear this in the story.

Notice the way Jesus talks about the bumper crop. He does not say the man produced it, but rather that the rich man’s land produced it. It is God who provided for the man, but the man got greedy and wanted to insulate himself from the world. When we silo ourselves away, we may be doing what is prevalent in our society, but this is not how Jesus lived his life—and it’s not how he teaches us to live.

Jesus used noncomplementary behavior throughout his life to live the Good News of God’s saving grace. When asked to be a judge in this lesson, he instead taught and befriended the brother to help him learn. When at Table with his followers Jesus did not take the best seat, but counterintuitively he served his disciples to teach them about true leadership. When being crucified on the cross Jesus’ last words, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do” flew in the face of a world obsessed with vengeance. And, the ultimate noncomplementary behavior came as God responded to humanity’s attempts to kill Jesus not with wrath, but with the loving light of Resurrection.

We seem to be wired to respond in complementary ways. When someone rips out our eye we want to come back and take both of theirs. If someone talks badly about us, we do the same. Some believe the solution to violence is more violence. Others turn to more and more isolation to silo themselves off from anything that is different. This is not the way of Jesus. Jesus used noncomplementary behavior to challenge the status quo. He seemed to say, “True wealth is not in holding onto money, but in sharing with others; right leadership is not in lording over others, but in serving them; and real power comes not in perpetuating violence, but in the love that not even death can overcome.”

Back on June 16, Bart Rainey, Sharon Yeager, and Jane Pounds, the three martyrs of St. Stephen’s Church, along with others who attended that potluck practiced this noncomplementary behavior. They offered wine, food, and hospitality to a stranger. Unlike what happened on the Invisibilia episode though, their actions cost them their lives and forever altered the life of our sister parish.

Sometimes when we speak as Christians, it feels aspirational, like we are aiming towards some goal we all can work towards; however, in seeing the lives of innocent Episcopalians extinguished in violence it feels dangerous to say what I am about to say—dangerous, but important and ultimately in the way of Christ. We are called to live noncomplementary lives—lives that are often out of step with the longings and desires of our society—lives that are of Jesus’ way.

When others are greedy, we are to be givers.

When the world is power-hungry, we are to be servants.

When our society is violent, we are to be peacemakers.

May we walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God. Amen.

 

 



[1] Renee Montagne, “She Offered The Robber A Glass Of Wine, And That Flipped The Script” from the podcast Invisibilia on National Public Radio, [https://www.npr.org/transcripts/485843453, released: July 15, 2016, accessed: July 24, 2022].

Sunday, July 3, 2022

Proclaiming Shalom

 

When we say peace what do we mean? Better yet, what did Jesus mean?

2 Kings 5:1-14
Psalm 30
Galatians 6:(1-6)7-16
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

The Rev. Seth Olson © 2022

 

All-peaceful God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

If you have ever received an email from me, I probably concluded the digital correspondence by writing “God’s Peace,” as a shorthand way of saying, “May the peace of Almighty God, which passes all understanding be upon you and remain with you, now and always.” You can probably understand why I’ve shortened that phrase to “God’s Peace.” Typing these words have become so ingrained in me that I sometimes do not even think about what I am pressing on the keyboard. Am I simply wishing you to have a good day? Is this just a religious way of saying, “Best wishes”? Or, is this a prayer for peace and something more?

Peace might seem unattainable in our world today. The United States, which is about to turn 246 years old as a nation, is not at war with anyone—at least not at the moment. However, war rages in Ukraine; gun violence infects our schools, churches, streets, and homes; political battles are soaked not just in passive aggressiveness, but in real threats of physical violence; some say that we are at war with a woman’s autonomy of her own body; and many of us feel restless with the state of the world. So, as much as I wish I could just email everyone, “God’s peace,” and that make things all better, I do not believe that will bring much aid or comfort during these intense times. We find ourselves situated within a way of violence that goes back not just to the start of our country, but millennia before that, so where do we go from here?

Peter Rollins, a Northern Irish Theologian, once said, “Violence is the termination of conversation or dialogue.”[1] What I took from these words is that when we can no longer peaceably communicate with one another violence ensues—whether or not any shots are fired, or punches are thrown. However, what happens when the shouting voices all around us in society do not even want to take a breath to pause from spewing vitriol? What do we do not to react, but to respond to all the hurt around us, so the conversation can continue? How do we bring peace to all the open wounds of our day?

A long time ago, a wise soul also knew that the world was immersed in violent ways avoiding the conversation and deeply hurting. That wise one was Jesus of Nazareth, a faithful, Jewish man who lived under an oppressive regime who had colonized his people. This empire pronounced a supposed peace that was more fear of might than lasting tranquility. The Pax Romana, the peace of Rome, was a fallacy based on the myth that might makes right.

On top of this, the religious leaders of his day brokered in power—often cozying up to the imperial leaders. When things got out of hand these leaders of the Faith would not enact violence, but instead ask the Empire to do it, so that the religious ones avoided ritualistic impurity. This time two thousand years ago in 1st Century, Roman-occupied, Jewish Palestine was not all that different than our own age.

And yet, Jesus still had the audacity to send seventy-two of his followers, people like you and me, out on what could only be described as a fool’s errand. Why did he do this? Because Jesus knew that the people in these cities and towns were wounded, in much the same way that people in our day are wounded—and what would be the salve for these injuries? Not the Peace of Rome, but the Peace of God. This was a marvelous opportunity!

“The harvest is plentiful” was the way Jesus said it; “But, the laborers are few,” he added. Then he sent them on their way urgently! They were to go right then, unprepared! This would be akin to sheep being amongst wolves. The Seventy-Two were not to pack anything, leaving them in a vulnerable position, but certainly Jesus would give them some secret healing power to cure the hurt that so many were feeling, right?

What did the text tell us? It informs us that Jesus sent his followers with simple words for each home, “Peace to this house!” That’s it. So, are we back to emailing the whole world a message of thoughts and prayers or peace and love? NO! You may already know this, but our word for peace suffers from being weighed down carrying too many veiled meanings.

Peace seems to mean too many things and nothing at all. United Nations peacekeeping missions often include lots of weapons to ensure that peace sticks, and understandably so. Peace to some means a lack of gunshots in their neighborhood, but to others it points to a feeling that occurs when everything is just perfect—so often a state that is unattainable. Now, none of these comes anywhere close to capturing what Jesus said.

Last Sunday night, though Jeannie Feldman did. At the start of Vacation Bible School, Jeannie, one of our outstanding Children’s Ministers (along with Kathleen Busbee and Joie Hoke and so many amazing volunteers), last Sunday night, Jeannie started the whole VBS by saying “Shalom!” Brad, added "Shalom y'all!" Now, that is the same word that we translate as peace in our Gospel lesson for today. Our children at VBS learned more about Shalom throughout the week. It does not simply mean peace—it’s not a fuzzy feeling of calm, nor is it an absence of open hostility, rather it is a word that signifies that God yearns for your healing, your restoration, and your salvation.

Those who were audaciously sent out like sheep among wolves were armed only with the message of peace, but that peace known as Shalom changed the world, and it still has that power today. When Jesus’ messengers were visiting new towns and sharing God’s peace, something remarkable took place. Despite not having anything in the way of provisions, God provided for them through the generosity of their neighbors. Despite not having anything extra, they were able to bring God’s abundant healing to the open wounds of many. Despite only having God’s Shalom, they cast out demons, which a mentor (the Rev. Tom Macfie Jr.) told me are a great way of saying our false selves.

The seventy-two messengers of God went out and they found others who were attracted to healing, restoration, and salvation. Funny enough the travelers received this sort of peace in the hospitality they received. If they had lost hope in their fellow humans, those wounds were healed when they were welcomed, housed, and fed by strangers. Then, they shared this Shalom with others as together they did God’s work of ministry even before Jesus was able to do that work in many of these places. That’s remarkable!

All this talk about Shalom and peace sounds so lovely back then, but what about in our day, which feels anything but peaceful? Not three weeks ago our beloved siblings in Christ at St. Stephen’s encountered violence within their holy walls. In recent days, historic legal decisions being reversed has left many feeling unsafe, angry, and depressed. And, across the globe we are watching in real time a bloody conflict between Russia and the Ukraine unfold. How do we bring Shalom to others when it feels anything but peaceful among, between, and within us?

First, when it comes to personal safety, it feels problematic at best for me to recommend anything that would put any of you in harm’s way. And, while what Jesus asked of the Seventy-Two was radical, it was also practical. When they encountered those who did not want to take part in Shalom, who did not want healing, restoration, and salvation, they were not to keep at it indefinitely. Instead, they were to wipe off the dirt, or in our case red clay, from their feet and keep going. And, that is what we too must do. We must bring Shalom to those who are ready to receive it. Remember: the harvest is plentiful!

But, what if we do not feel like that Shalom resides within us? Friends, sometimes you will be the one bringing healing, restoration, and salvation to others (you will be the Seventy-Two)—and sometimes you will be the one desperately in need of that healing (you will be one offering hospitality to peace-bearers). 

The Seventy-Two went together in pairs to practice vulnerability and to bring peace. They completed their work not by browbeating or proselytizing, but by revealing God’s healing power already at work within individuals and households. The many who received these travelers were open and hospitable, which lead to transformation! In our day, we have the same opportunities set before us. As we see in others and experience within ourselves the hurts of this life, we are called to bring Shalom, to receive it, to vulnerably live as bearers of healing, restoration, and salvation—in other words, God’s peace, y'all! Amen.

 


[1] Peter Rollins, “Pyrotheology” given at Festival of Homiletics, 2014 Minneapolis, MN.