Showing posts with label Jacob. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jacob. Show all posts

Sunday, January 17, 2021

Lost and Found

Yes, not all who wander are lost, but for those who are lost, know there is one seeking you.
 

© Seth Olson 2021
January 17, 2021—Second Sunday after the Epiphany

 
A video of this sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.

Over the last ten months we have felt great loss—our way of being, jobs, days at school, big events, small “normal” moments, and worst of all loved ones. And, over the last eleven days we have felt not only loss but lost. There are wise, prophetic ones among us who have pointed to a sort of rudderless drifting apart in our country for years even decades, but a violent mob attacking the very seat of our democracy crystallized just how unmoored and divided we are as people. As we glide without clear direction, I yearn to be found. I yearn for us all to be found.

This desire for us to be found and brought back together does not mean that those who incite and enact violence, whether in the streets across our country or in the halls within our Capitol, should not face justice. We would float further adrift by simply jumping from here to peace without there being consequences to make right what has gone wrong. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (whom we celebrate tomorrow) said, “There can be no justice without peace, and there canbe no peace without justice.” Even enacting justice though may not move us from being lost to being found. We will, I believe, still be a divided and lost nation, as long as we tether ourselves to self-serving power, see each other as the enemy within, and do not seek to find Christ within our “lost” neighbors. (To be clear, each and every one of us is lost from time-to-time.) What do we do?

Have you ever lost something? I worked at a camp for several summers, and without fail every Saturday morning when a session would end, a giant mound of lost items would appear. In the midst of the madness of camp checkout, staff members and hut leaders would lay out dusty hats, wet aqua socks, and discarded box fans. Then every week, a determined mother keenly aware that her son had forgotten his new pair of shoes would drag him all the way back from the parking lot to pick them out of that pile.

Or, a father knew his child well enough to get that she had forgotten the fan they bought specifically for camp. How did they know? It is amazing to see the determination of a parent who realizes her child has forgotten something—it’s even more amazing to see our Incarnate God in search of not a lost item, but us who are lost.

In today’s Gospel account we see Jesus finding two disciples. We observe with great clarity not only Emmanuel—God with us—but also a God who seeks and finds us. Jesus makes quick work of finding Philip, but what may be more pertinent to our current state of wandering is how Jesus and Philip find Nathanael.

John’s Gospel account simply states that upon Jesus arriving in Galilee he found Philip. All it took to win this one over was for Jesus to declare, “Follow me.” Immediately, then Philip “found” Nathanael. Of course, describing this as a “finding” seems premature—sure Phil saw his buddy Nathan, but the latter friend still seemed lost.

Philip excitedly described meeting Jesus, blurting out, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Imagine being part of a people who had waited for generations, for centuries to see the fulfillment of both the law and the prophets. Then, instead of finding that one, that one actually finding you! Nathanael though remained more practical, pragmatic, skeptical, even to the point of cynicism.

Does this sound familiar? It sounds like where many of us are. We wait for the other shoe to drop! Nathanael though is like the “You are here” dot on the shopping mall map, but where are we going? Come and see.

Nathanael responded to Philip’s excitement with a wet-blanket-of-a-statement: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathanael had a point! Nazareth was not a place that was highlighted by the prophets. Bethlehem? Yes! Nazareth? No.

So, Nathanael presupposed the skepticism and cynicism we have in our current moment: Can anything good come from our current struggles as a country?

If you anxiously doom-scroll through Twitter, Facebook, or other social media, you will probably answer that question with a big NO! As we nervously anticipate the next moment of horror in our world, our country, our state, our city, or our own lives we easily gravitate towards questions like, “Can anything good come from the left? From the right? Montgomery? Washington D.C.? This president? The next president? My crazy family member? My annoying neighbor?

With this sort of questioning, I wonder if Nathanael even wanted to be found. Yes, Philip “found” him and even coaxed him into meeting Jesus, but a cloud of cynicism remained. I wonder if that’s how you feel. It is a sensation, along with emotions like fear, anger, and sadness that I feel.

Sometimes these emotions are difficult to sit with. Maybe we are not anxious like Nathanael, but perhaps we escape in another way—maybe we busy ourselves like Martha. We in the Church often draw the distinction between Martha and Mary. Martha was a do-er. She eagerly set about at tasks and blamed her own unhappiness on her sister’s inaction. Mary instead “chose the better path,” as Jesus put it. For she sat and learned from Christ Jesus. She was a be-er.

We do not as often contrast the two disciples in today’s Gospel lesson. Nathanael was doubting, individualistic, and straight-forward. Philip was curious, simple, and winsome. More on both men in a moment. In truth though, we are neither Martha nor Mary, we are both women. We must have both and are encouraged to integrate the gift of being present even into moments of doing. Likewise, we are both Philip and Nathanael.

Why we might yearn to be like Philip appears self-evident. He believed Jesus easily. He followed him. He did not use a hammer to attract his friend to Jesus, but rather he simply said, “Come and see.” He in some ways is like Mary—a faithful straightforward believer.

Being like Nathanael does not carry the same self-apparent shine, even if it is how a lot of us feel right now. He doubted his friend. He was skeptical. He was even cynical. And yet, his own transformation helps us all the more in this challenging moment.

Straightaway when Jesus saw Nathanael coming, he proclaimed, “Here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael was put back. “Where did you get to know me?” he wondered aloud. In Nathanael’s words we discover that Jesus spoke truthfully. Nathanael was a straightforward man—an opinionated one who would not hold back, as seen in his “Can anything good?” questioning.

Jesus’ responded to Nathanael’s question by saying, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” With this Nathanael was blown away! Most scholars are not quite sure why this of all things unlocked Nathanael’s faithfulness, as he then called Jesus, not only “Rabbi” meaning teacher, but also the Son of God! Two helpful and relatable insights though about Nathanael being spotted under a fig tree.

First, fig trees are symbolic in Israel. We find them mentioned throughout the Hebrew Bible. In the First Book of Kings, during King Solomon’s reign each man lived under his own vine and fig tree. This tree represented the safety, security, and dignity of having one’s own home, but there was also something individualistic about it. Our own first President George Washington was fond of this imagery, as fans of the musical Hamilton may recall from the song “One Last Time.” Back to our passage, perhaps it was just Nathanael sitting under a tree, or maybe he was safe, secure, and dignified, if a bit isolated there. Regardless through Philip Jesus called him from there—Jesus did this by seeing him.

This is the second helpful, relatable bit for us. Some believe Jesus’ seeing to be a mystical ability to see when not actually present. Maybe, and sure that is amazing. What might be even more profound though, emerges when we recognizethat the one through whom everything was made, God, who created the universe,saw Nathanael. Nathanael had this epiphany too. Nathanael was noticed by God Incarnate. He was not alone though.

Friends, you are noticed by God too. God sees you—like a loving parent searching for you—even more than she or he searches for lost aqua socks. Jesus ends this encounter with another powerful image.

When Nathanael marveled at being seen, Jesus described an even more marvelous site. “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” This allusion is to Jacob’s vision in Genesis 28—Jacob’s ladder is something that many of us learned in Sunday School. What is remarkable though is that Jacob was not praying to God nor seeking God. Instead, Jacob was on the run, anxiously living his life, trying to makeit on his own. Does this sound familiar? To me it sounds like us!

We are living in disturbing days. In these times we may find it easier to apprehensively live our lives running away like Jacob, over-functioning like Martha, or being dismissive like Nathanael. These paths of escapism, busyness, and cynicism may make us feel safe, but we will eventually get lost. The good news is that our God does not wait for us to say, “Speak for your servant is listening,” like Samuel did in our first lesson. God is always speaking, but are we listening? Even if we are not, God seeks us out, like a shepherd looking for a lost sheep, like a parent looking for a lost child, like Jesus looking for a not-yet-found disciple. Come and see a path that leads to new life. A path that leads to justice, reconciliation, and true peace. Through Christ God seeks you, through Christ God finds you, and through Christ God calls us all to follow him into love. Amen.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Wrestling with Parables

(This week's sermon is based on Genesis 28:10-19 and Matthew 13:24-30,36-43.)

In 11th grade math class, Algebra II, we received a new text book a few weeks into the school year. Mrs. Stevens, a young, energetic, and engaged Algebra teacher quickly learned that these text books made a big impact on her students’ homework grades. Overnight almost everyone was making near perfect scores. There was however a slight problem.

All of these paragon problem sets had no work out beside the answers. The sheets were clean except for the correct responses. Pretty quickly Mrs. Stevens asked us in class to give her one of our text books. She thumbed to the back of the hardcover, as the class sat breathlessly and anxiously watching.

“Of course,” she said almost under her breath, “the answers are in the back of your book.” Then turning to us, “Why didn’t any of you point that out?” Before anyone could respond to her question, she knew the answer. Her class wanted to get the right answer in whatever way we could. We did not care about doing the work, we were not interested in learning to solve algebraic equations, we just wanted to skip ahead and get the right answer.

This is the challenge that we face when we begin to read parables like the one from today’s gospel reading. We have the difficult word problem right in front of us, but all we want to do is skip ahead to the end. We want the correct answer without having to do the work. We want to know who is the sower, who are the servants, who are the weeds, and who is the wheat.

We can quickly thumb ahead in Matthew’s gospel account to read the answer key: the sower is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed/the wheat are the children of the kingdom, the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy is in fact the devil, the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are the angels. Yet, in jumping ahead to hear what Jesus says to his disciples about this parable we miss the all-important middle step…doing the work.

Parables, like challenging math problems, require us to do work. I am not suggesting that we have to do work to get into heaven, this is after all the Protestant Episcopal Church of America, and we certainly believe that Christ Jesus’ redeeming work on the cross and his all-encompassing grace is the only thing that brings us into right relationship with God and into the Kingdom. No, the work I am referring to is interior work, work that opens us up to God’s calling, work that reveals our true selves in light of Christ. If we skip the middle step in these parables we miss this work.

Put another way, the moment we believe we know the meaning of a parable is the moment when it slips between our fingers, like squeezing Jell-O. Jesus’ answers at the end of today’s gospel give us a false confidence that we know what Jesus means in this parable. Now, it’s one thing to think I know what a parable is challenging me to do, but the trouble comes when I think that I know exactly what the parable is telling you to do also. It’s one thing to think we know what the parable means to us, but when we begin telling others what to do in light of this one text we wade into dangerous waters. We no longer listen to how God challenges us individually, and instead we have hijacked the gospel for our own ends.

So what do we do? Ignore the parables? Avoid them at all costs? Not engage these stories from Jesus? We might do better to be like the main character from today’s reading from Genesis.

Not too long after Jacob had his vision of the ladder, he spent an entire night wrestling with God or a messenger from God. At the end of this fight Jacob is left with a limp, a mark that reminds him of his struggle. He’s even given a new name, Israel, which means “He struggles with God.” This is how we can approach the parables, as wrestlers ready to engage, not as math students seeking easy solutions. So what happens when we wrestle with this parable?

What we hear when we listen is not practical farming advice. Like Evan said last week, Jesus would have been a terrible farmer. The weed in this parable, probably the bearded darnel weed, may look like wheat to the untrained eye, but to an experienced farmer the differences are easily seen. So if the weed could be detected by the servants, why not pluck it up? Jesus tells us about life in the Kingdom of Heaven, the Kingdom of God, not about how to keep a good garden.

In the Kingdom there are both weeds and wheat. They grow together. They aren’t separated. Good exists. Evil exists. We can look around and see someone who has all the right answers to the questions of life. Somehow this person got the right solutions in the back of the book of life. We can be so certain that they are wheat. We can see another who seems set on doing ill. We can, like the servants, be so sure that we know which the weed is, and which the wheat is. Yet, the Master urges us to wait.

The parable of the evil sower pushes us to think beyond practical farming practices into wondering not only how we define evil and good, but also how we live together as wheat and weed. We want so often to pluck out the evil ones, separate them from us, lock them away, so that they do not effect the good wheat. Yet, God lets the evil grow among the good. Why?
To test us? To make us angry? Because the devil put them there? I do not know why. What I do know is that our work is not to judge, not to fully comprehend the complexity of this parable, but to wrestle all the same with the Master.

We may want a simple answer to this parable. We might even think that we can skip ahead and find the key to unlocking this story, but that’s the thing about parables, right when we think we understand them they slip through our grasp. So do not skip ahead. Don’t rush to the back of the book. Don’t seek the easy answer. Instead wrestle with God and you like Jacob will be changed forever.