Epiphany 7C: Gen. 45:3-11, 15; Luke 6:27-38 St. Paul’s, 2/24/2019

Jim Melnyk: “The Family Business”

“Who is closer to God,” the seeker asked, “the saint or the sinner?” “Why the sinner, of course,” the elder said. “But how can that be?” the seeker asked. “Because,” the elder said, “every time a person sins they break the cord that binds them to God. But every time God forgives them, the cord is knotted again. And so, thanks to the mercy of God, the cord gets shorter and the sinner closer to God.”[1]

Joan Chittister, who gives us this story of God’s mercy, tells us that “This Society is locked in mortal combat between mercy and justice. On which side must we err,” she asks, “if err we must? Which side do we want for ourselves when we cut corners, bend the rules, break the codes, [and] succumb to needs not being met in other places and ways?”[2] Most of us, I suspect, would like to be treated mercifully – especially when we mess up – especially when we deserve judgment – especially, I’m thinking, when the response of justice would be to call us down on the carpet. Offering mercy to someone else – offering mercy to someone who has wronged us – well, that’s a tougher sell for most people.

Jesus certainly points us time and again to the bond that unites us to God – and how when we’ve broken that bond God’s forgiveness knots that bond back together. But Jesus also speaks to us about the bond we share with one another as children of God. Jesus knows so well that we often find those bonds that tie us together torn asunder. He speaks to us about ways of seeking one another’s forgiveness and finding ways of retying those broken bonds.

Jesus tells us, “…love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you…. Do to others as you would have them do to you…. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful….”[3]

Episcopal priest and spiritual director Martin Smith sees our gospel lesson’s call to be merciful and forgiving as a way of following in the footsteps of Jesus – carrying out a ministry of reconciliation. He writes, “In today’s gospel passage we are urged to be children of God by working, so to speak, in the family business.” Smith explains, “In the society in which Jesus lived, most production was domestic, in family businesses where even little children were hard at work. It is still this way with many societies today…. And so it would have been for Jesus, the little apprentice, alongside his sisters and brothers in Joseph’s construction business.”[4]

But then we come to the relationship Jesus shares with God, whom Luke tells us is the heavenly father of Jesus. Smith builds upon his family business metaphor: “The Holy One’s family business is reconciliation, risky solidarity, and love that is unconditional and generous—a business that is indifferent to profit or even breaking even. What a strange business model! But it is God’s—and if we are to be part of the company…‘God and Family: Distributors of Unconditional Love,’ then we must get down to business, and demonstrate our resemblance to the Creator.”[5]

We’re challenged to ask ourselves, “What exactly does my family business look like?” Over the past five weeks we’ve been taking a look at what it would mean for our world to turn away from the false god of the Dominion Mandate in order to embrace a model of tikkun olam – what is for me, another way of describing the subversive nature of the kingdom of heaven – where any dominion practiced is done so in the grace and mercy of God. Domination and tikkun olam are two world views that do not mix.

The Dominion Mandate, at its worst interpretation from the early verses of Genesis, demands its own form of justice on behalf of humankind; with mercy reserved only for those at the top of the creation food chain. And all too often the Dominion Mandate expounds a male-dominated theology, and a male-dominated cry for justice, believing the needs and desires of certain groups to be vastly more important than either other people or the environment around us. Proponents see themselves as the pinnacle of God’s creation, and therefore the created world and any lesser beings must bow to their needs – to their desires – to their hopes and dreams.

We see the brokenness of the Dominion Mandate whenever we choose a healthy bottom-line over care for our planet – whenever we let suspicion and fear overrule our love for our neighbor – whenever we turn away the sojourner among us in an attempt to insulate us from those whom we believe are different from us – whenever we find ourselves denying others the very mercy we long for ourselves when our lives take a hard turn.

            Both Chittister and Jesus, however, speak to us about a different sort of mandate – a divine mandate. Franciscan priest Joe Nangle sees that mandate acted out in our faith stories more than one thousand years before the birth of Christ: “God's Word today confronts us with [a] mysterious, demanding, and, yes, elusive divine mandate,” writes Nangle. It is the “divine mandate” of forgiveness. Nangle points us toward Joseph, whom we read about this morning. Joseph, the one of “multicolored coat” fame. Joseph, who “receives with open arms the very brothers who had plotted his death and sold him into slavery.”[6]

            Joseph has every right to demand justice from his brothers who had betrayed him – and because of that they stand before Joseph in Egypt fearful of their lives. They expect justice, as only betrayers might understand, and instead Joseph bursts into tears at the sight of them. He is different from his brothers. “Joseph no sooner reminds his brothers of their great sin (v. 4) than he renounces retribution…. The last word [for Joseph and for us] is a word of life, not death.”[7] Later in the story Joseph will say to his brothers, “Have no fear! Am I a substitute for God? Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about…the survival of many people.”[8] In other words, Joseph is merciful as God is merciful – something a Torah Observant Jesus will call us to centuries later.

            Had the phrase been around in the time of Joseph and his brothers we might have said Joseph’s response to his brothers was an act of tikkun olam – an act of repairing their broken and frightful world. Not only are the brothers forgiven for their treatment of Joseph, but the whole of Israel – a small family clan at this point – the whole of Israel is saved from starvation. This is tikkun olam – this is repairing the breach – repairing the world – and it is God’s dream for not only each of us, but for the whole of creation.

            Isn’t that what Jesus is saying to us in today’s reading from Luke? When faced with the actions of others, do we end up believing ourselves to be substitutes for God, bringing some kind of divine retribution, or do we find ourselves imitating the divine compassion of God –

embracing what Nangle calls a divine mandate of forgiveness? Isn’t that precisely what Jesus is talking about when he teaches, “Do to others as you would have them do to you,” and in conjunction with that wisdom, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”?[9]

            The elder in our opening story tells the seeker, “Every time a person sins they break the cord that binds them to God. But every time God forgives them, the cord is knotted again. And so, thanks to the mercy of God, the cord gets shorter and the sinner closer to God.”[10] If we, when we feel broken and lost, can seek out God and have the cord that binds us together knotted again, could we really ask anything less for others? For that reason – recalling the hope of God that the whole of creation find peace – perhaps we can now imagine ourselves tying knots – strengthening the bonds we share with one another as children of God.

---

[1] Joan Chittister. 40 Stories to Stir the Soul. (Erie, PA, Benetivision, 2010) 52

[2] Ibid

[3] Luke 6:27-28a, 31, 35-36

[4] Martin Smith, (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 2/24/2019) https://sojo.net/preaching-the-word/family-business?parent=227317. Accessed on January 6, 2019

[5] ibid

[6] Joe Nangle, “An Elusive Mandate,” https://sojo.net/preaching-the-word/elusive-mandate?parent=227317. Accessed January 9, 2019

[7] Gen. 45:4-8 n

[8] Gen. 50:19-20

[9] Lk. 6:31, 36

[10] Chittister

Redeemed and Redreamed

Epiphany 6C; Jer. 17:5-10; Ps. 1; Lk. 6:17-26; St. Paul’s, 2/17/2019

Jim Melnyk, “Redeemed and Re-dreamed”

Did you happen to notice the contrasts set up in today’s readings from Scripture?  The images we’re offered are poles apart from each other: desert shrubs and parched places over and against towering trees planted by the water; chaff that blows away in the wind or branches bearing fruit in abundance; pronouncements of blessings over and against those of woes.

Desert shrubs – shallow rooted and dying of thirst – shrubs that look alive to the naked eye, but below the surface hang on to life by a thread – all their energy taken up by survival – getting to the next day – getting to the next season.

Or trees planted by a stream – with deep running roots, strong branches, many leaves, and much fruit – able to withstand whatever the world brings our way.  Trees deeply grounded – firmly planted – present not only for themselves, but for the life of the world around them as well – with energy and grace to spare for all who come within the cooling embrace of their shade.

Why would both Jeremiah and the Psalmist use trees as a metaphor for a firmly grounded life of faith? What is it about trees that speak to our faith? Healthy, thriving trees clean the air around us, taking in CO2 and producing oxygen. They stabilize the soil around them helping to prevent erosion. Certain trees give fruit to sustain us. Healthy, thriving trees actually act as nature’s air conditioners, lowering temperatures around them – with the evaporation from one single mature tree equaling the work of ten room-sized air conditioners. And “studies show that urban vegetation slows heartbeats, lowers blood pressure, and relaxes brain wave patterns.”[1]

Jesus, I am sure, understands the images presented to us from both Jeremiah and this morning’s psalm. Teaching his disciples in the midst of a great crowd, Jesus speaks words of comfort and hope to the world’s lost souls – promising that the kingdom of God belongs to them – that their emptiness will be filled – and that their tears will be turned into laughter. It is not too much of a stretch to envision their lives becoming like trees planted beside deep pools or flowing streams. In the next breath Jesus proclaims woeful challenges to the complacent and hard of heart – those who practice misplaced dominion over their sisters and brothers. Jesus tells us they have had their fill already. They will come to know hunger and sorrow. Dare we say their hearts will be like trees struggling to live beside dried river beds and shifting desert sands?

We are each called to be like trees firmly planted and deeply rooted. Following that analogy, we are called to be people who care for and protect the environment around us – becoming the stewards or the caretakers for creation as God fully intended from the very beginning of the world. We are each called to put down roots that stabilize the community around us as trees stabilize the soil. We become the blessing for those who are poor, who are hungry, and who mourn. We are to be those who breathe life into the world around us – being deeply rooted in our faith, which gives us the strength to love and serve the world.

But too often we find ourselves spread just a bit too thin – stretching for just a little bit more water. Perhaps we find ourselves wondering where the energy will come from to do the job, to keep the house and yard, to take care of the homework, and to care for the kids.  How do we balance our schedules, perhaps get a chance to play a little, and still find time to minister to the world beyond our hectic lives? Where do we find the ability to bless those who are oppressed and broken-hearted and bring back to earth those who simply don’t care?

Without being deeply grounded in prayer, in the study of the word, and our weekly meal at the Holy Table we run the risk of drying up – dying of thirst and withering away.  Without being deeply grounded we run the risk of running ourselves ragged. 

We listen to the Good News of Jesus Christ and we look at our lives and the world around us, and it’s plain to see the life of this world is out of sync.  There are too many who are hungry and poor – too many who are sorrowful, too many who are excluded or reviled.  There are just too many thirsty shrubs – and not enough trees.  Rather than being strengthened and nourished, those on the margins are pushed further away.  The resources to bring life-giving water to the desert places are there – the will to do something, and the distribution systems needed to get the work done, are just out of whack.

We know things need to change – that life should be different – that life is supposed to be abundant and grace-filled. But we struggle over how to make that change come about. The temptation – the danger – is to run ourselves ragged, putting bandage after bandage on wounds that are cut to the very marrow – wounds that bleed from the center of the world’s being.  Because the wounds are so deep, and our lives so complicated, we’ve learned to treat symptoms rather than root causes.

What Jesus says in our gospel lesson today – Luke’s listing of blessings and woes – is no different than what Mary proclaimed to Elizabeth, or what we heard Jesus proclaim in the synagogue at Nazareth a few Sundays back.  It’s no different than the judgment and hope Jeremiah proclaimed to Judah, or the promise Isaiah proclaimed to the captives in Babylon who were about to be led home from exile. God cares deeply for all of God’s creation – and God calls each of us to care just as well. And while God does want us to make a difference in the world – plugging a leak here and a leak there as we can – God actually wants us to make the world a different place – a whole new creation! 

In Jesus, God is redeeming and re-dreaming creation. In and through Christ God is turning the world upside down – or rather, turning the world upside right.  And we’re called to be a part of it all – firmly planted – growing strong – deeply rooted – a source of strength and nourishment for the world.

I’m reminded of Absalom Jones – whose feast day was celebrated by the Church this past week.  In 1787 the white leadership of integrated St. George’s Methodist Church in Philadelphia decided it best for the Black membership to be relegated to the upstairs gallery – you know, neighbors had been talking and all that! On a Sunday morning in November Jones and the other Black members of the church were directed upstairs – apart from the rest of the congregation.  The Black members of St. George’s walked out that day – claiming their dignity and self-worth. 

After much soul-searching they formed St. Thomas African Episcopal Church – putting down roots in a new place – nearer the Living Water that would nourish not only the whole of their createdness in God, but also nourish the world around them even today. Fifteen years later, in 1802, Absalom Jones would become the first black priest in the Episcopal Church – though it would take over one and a half centuries beyond that event for our country to finally pass laws against such blatant discrimination and moral oppression. Yet today there are some who still seek ways to legalize forms of discrimination and oppression toward human beings who find themselves in still other minorities.

Healing our world – repairing the breach that separates us from one another and from God – can take a long time. But as 19^th century clergyman and abolitionist Theodore Parker first wrote, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”[2] Tikkun olam is a faithful calling for God’s people to follow. The kingdom of God is the hope of God unfolding all around us.

 God continues to redeem and re-dream creation. Calling us to be firmly rooted in the love and grace of God. Calling us to be firmly rooted in the stories of our faith. Calling us to be firmly rooted in God’s call to justice, peace and love.  Being firmly planted, growing strong, offering shade, shelter and nourishment, as we join with God in making the world a different place – calling us all to be a part of God’s dream.

---

[1] Canopy, “The Benefits of Trees,” http://canopy.org/tree-info/benefits-of-trees/. Accessed on February 13, 2019.

[2] “All Things Considered”, NPR, September 2, 2010 https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129609461. Accessed on February 13, 2019.