Why does "the truth hurt?"
Actually, that phrase is shorthand for the truth it is elucidating, which stated fully is: "The truth hurts worst when it first hits you." Which is to say that there are a great deal of truths with which we live in complete, comfortable harmony, even though many of those truths hurt us when we first learned them.
Gravity is a painful truth to the newbie on a bicycle.
A hangover is a painful truth to the college freshman.
Hot peppers reveal their painful truth the first time you encounter one unexpectedly in a mouthful of authentic Thai food.
I am completely comfortable with these truths now, although they each were quite humbling when they were first delivered fresh and piping hot to my door in thirty minutes or less. And this raises an interesting distinction. The EXPERIENCE of these things-- falling off a bike, waking up after binge drinking, or eating spicy food--may remain painful whenever they occur, but the TRUTH ITSELF behind them isn't painful at all. I am perfectly reconciled to these truths, even if I'd rather now avoid their consequences.
So what is the common medicine that truth delivers each time it hurts?
It seems to me that truth hurts precisely because it brings us an unexpected gift: the reality that we have something more to learn that by nature can only be learned through pain.
This is not to say that all truths are delivered painfully. The bliss of a first kiss is an experience that is not painful at all and from which we learn how enjoyable kissing is (and to which we return again and again throughout life.)
But mere kissing is a circular truth. The only truth that a meaningless kiss delivers is that kissing is, by itself, enjoyable. But no kiss is a mere kiss, and thus no kiss can remain ultimately meaningless.
When you discover that you were kissed merely to make another suitor jealous is the moment that a painful truth hits you about human nature and, specifically, the nature of the relationship you actually had with that girl as contrasted with the one you thought you had. The kiss of a traitor--of Judas' lips upon Jesus--that is indeed a painful truth.
The realization that there is more to a relationship than kissing is a less painful truth, but painful in its own right.
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Here is the most painful thing a person can realize: I am not who I thought I was. And second only to that is: What other people think of me is not what I had been counting on them thinking.
And here is the painful lesson a pastor must learn over and over again: What I've been trying to say is not what people have necessarily been hearing.
The latter is painful news on its own, but it is actually good news in light of the first two truths mentioned just before.
That is, when we realize that what we have been trying to say is not necessarily what people have been hearing, we can be relieved, because we're not who we thought we were anyway, and our audience hasn't exactly been seeing us with the aid of our built-in, personally-preferential, rose-colored glasses.
Which is a long and convoluted way of saying, "It's awfully good to discover you're in the Grace Business, when you realize how much Grace you actually need."
Do you get my point? Or am I about to learn another painful lesson...
Monday, January 5, 2009
Every Transforming Ministry Needs an Incubator
Incubators are for chicks, not chickens. And Jesus calls us to be children, not adults.
Somehow these twin insights seem particularly obvious to me at the moment. I have spent the last few hours taking a second look at an age-old situation: a congregation that is not going anywhere. This was not, of course, the age-old problem for the particular congregation I've been discussing with my father- and brother-in-law. THAT congregation was, like all congregations, a vibrant, growing one at one time. All congregations BEGIN at some point, and that point is usually rich with energy and ripe with growth. That is, all mature chickens start out as chicks. The difficulty with growing the kingdom of God (or at least OUR difficulty) is that most pastors are tending to chicken houses filled with mature chickens rather than establishing incubators filled with chicks.
Chickens in chicken houses seem like a good situation, because chickens lay eggs. And the kingdom of God needs mature Christians to disciple new ones.
The problem is that we have employed pastors in tending to chicken houses, where egg-laying is the responsibility (and sole ability) of chickens. As a result, there are a lot of still-born chicks (read that, eggs) which are seen as the goal by the egg-eating pastor (stay with me now) rather than seeing within the egg a future chicken and a suite of future chicken houses. Every congregation seems to reach the point of settling into an 'enough is enough' production capacity for eggs. And by NOT incubating them into new chickens and rehousing them in new chicken houses, we are essentially sitting down to a enjoy a perpetual egg dinner where the chickens supply US rather than US supplying THEM (with their own offspring and new houses to grow in).
If we ever want chickens--er, Christians-- to take over the world, we'd better stop eating eggs and start building incubators.
So now let me return to the impetus for the insight.
As I said at the outset, I have just spent a few hours talking about the challenges facing a non-numerically-growing congregation. In doing this, I had the LUXURY of having two mature fellow-Christians with similar experience and passion for change to banter with. As we talked together, iron sharpened iron (as Proverbs says) and our focus became sharper; our ideas clearer. To the point of actually generating excitement and new desire for change within the three of us. One of the three is the current pastor of the congregation under discussion. Could he have generated this energy alone? From his very words in our conversation, he was eager to see some of these new ideas plied toward his struggling congregation. That is, he'd love to have this kind of incubation happening on an ongoing basis to help his church recapture a vision for growth rather than mere survival. Ideally, his denomination's structure would provide this kind of thing, but realistically, leadership tends toward egg-eating rather than incubator-building, just like pastors do.
What the mission field of the kingdom of God needs is an impetus to incubate. We need something from OUTSIDE to enter into the inert mix of going-nowhere chemicals to FUEL a new REACTION. Something that generates ENERGY. A catalyst to create incubators. It's what we need, but not something we naturally want. We naturally want more eggs to eat, not more eggs to incubate. Incubation requires that our energy go into the new thing, whereas we're used to the status quo of getting energy out of the new thing by eating the eggs. (As I write this, my four year-old son is wailing in the kitchen, "Mama! What can I eat?" He seems to be making my point rather demonstrably.)
And I realize that I need an incubator that will catalyze me, too. I need an impetus to incubator-creation, rather than an organization that will teach me how to prepare eggs for the table. I need this because I believe the organization I am called to lead must itself be an incubator for the kingdom to grow.
Somehow these twin insights seem particularly obvious to me at the moment. I have spent the last few hours taking a second look at an age-old situation: a congregation that is not going anywhere. This was not, of course, the age-old problem for the particular congregation I've been discussing with my father- and brother-in-law. THAT congregation was, like all congregations, a vibrant, growing one at one time. All congregations BEGIN at some point, and that point is usually rich with energy and ripe with growth. That is, all mature chickens start out as chicks. The difficulty with growing the kingdom of God (or at least OUR difficulty) is that most pastors are tending to chicken houses filled with mature chickens rather than establishing incubators filled with chicks.
Chickens in chicken houses seem like a good situation, because chickens lay eggs. And the kingdom of God needs mature Christians to disciple new ones.
The problem is that we have employed pastors in tending to chicken houses, where egg-laying is the responsibility (and sole ability) of chickens. As a result, there are a lot of still-born chicks (read that, eggs) which are seen as the goal by the egg-eating pastor (stay with me now) rather than seeing within the egg a future chicken and a suite of future chicken houses. Every congregation seems to reach the point of settling into an 'enough is enough' production capacity for eggs. And by NOT incubating them into new chickens and rehousing them in new chicken houses, we are essentially sitting down to a enjoy a perpetual egg dinner where the chickens supply US rather than US supplying THEM (with their own offspring and new houses to grow in).
If we ever want chickens--er, Christians-- to take over the world, we'd better stop eating eggs and start building incubators.
So now let me return to the impetus for the insight.
As I said at the outset, I have just spent a few hours talking about the challenges facing a non-numerically-growing congregation. In doing this, I had the LUXURY of having two mature fellow-Christians with similar experience and passion for change to banter with. As we talked together, iron sharpened iron (as Proverbs says) and our focus became sharper; our ideas clearer. To the point of actually generating excitement and new desire for change within the three of us. One of the three is the current pastor of the congregation under discussion. Could he have generated this energy alone? From his very words in our conversation, he was eager to see some of these new ideas plied toward his struggling congregation. That is, he'd love to have this kind of incubation happening on an ongoing basis to help his church recapture a vision for growth rather than mere survival. Ideally, his denomination's structure would provide this kind of thing, but realistically, leadership tends toward egg-eating rather than incubator-building, just like pastors do.
What the mission field of the kingdom of God needs is an impetus to incubate. We need something from OUTSIDE to enter into the inert mix of going-nowhere chemicals to FUEL a new REACTION. Something that generates ENERGY. A catalyst to create incubators. It's what we need, but not something we naturally want. We naturally want more eggs to eat, not more eggs to incubate. Incubation requires that our energy go into the new thing, whereas we're used to the status quo of getting energy out of the new thing by eating the eggs. (As I write this, my four year-old son is wailing in the kitchen, "Mama! What can I eat?" He seems to be making my point rather demonstrably.)
And I realize that I need an incubator that will catalyze me, too. I need an impetus to incubator-creation, rather than an organization that will teach me how to prepare eggs for the table. I need this because I believe the organization I am called to lead must itself be an incubator for the kingdom to grow.
Parenting & Pastoring
So that's it then. Pastoring is the tireless task of continually helping people adjust their perspectives to see what Jesus sees.
I had this flash of insight as I walked away from two giggling children--my four year-old son and his five year-old cousin. They weren't giggling when I encountered them five minutes earlier. Now they were happily writing letters and drawing shapes on my in-laws' (their proud grandparents') driveway. Moments earlier, my son, Caleb, had one of his new chalk pieces raised defiantly over his head, about to throw it down to shatter it on the driveway. No doubt things had started out more like I left them after my brief intervention. However, something had happened just before I arrived that had changed His relationship with the chalk, with his cousin, and with the driveway he had initially been at peace with.
After taking in the scene and asking a simple opening question, ("What happened?") I discovered that Caleb had dropped one of his new pieces of giant chalk (brand new, virgin chalk just received yesterday for Christmas) and it had broken in at least two pieces, disappointing him and dashing his joy at the same time. My knowledge about my son and how he often reacts to unexpected disappointments helped me realize that I had to act quickly to keep him from, in response, deliberately breaking the remaining pieces each, one by one. It seems that my son reacts to uncontrollable disappointment with controlled aggression. Since he wasn't able to control the accidental breaking of his chalk, he chose to feel empowered by deliberately breaking other pieces rather than face the sadness of the situation.
OK. Back story now complete, I can tell you that I yelled, "Stop!" which did keep him from immediately throwing the next piece of chalk down. Then, I ran to his side and embraced him. And his response to my compassion, was to break down crying and finally move through the pain he was feeling but trying to deny.
I know this may all sound like as much psychobabble, but I think I have the essence of the situation in the right light. However, it hardly matters what was actually going on with my son before I first yelled 'stop' and then ran to embrace him. This intervention would work with almost any painful predicament people find themselves in. It's just that, without Jesus in our hearts, we try to do all kinds of other things (gluing chalk together, inventing softer driveways, providing therapy groups for chalk artists) rather than providing what every heart needs. A command to rest, and then a loving environment to provide it.
It seems to me that this is exactly what the church should be. It was what Jesus was. According to Matthew's gospel, Jesus BEGAN by preaching "Repent!" That is, His first message was "Stop!" Then He quickly ran in with the hug, because, according to John's gospel, "He knew what was in man." Read that, He knew what we needed, and still does.
He knew we were feeling pain that couldn't be redecorated or remodeled satisfactorily to the point of reversing our pain. He knew that mere modification of our problems was just avoiding the important thing--that we were hurting. We were hurting ourselves and were poised to hurt others, all the while smarting from the evil we ourselves had experienced.
Look at the Garden of Eden as a petrie dish in which this first encounter with evil was tested. Enter sin FROM OUTSIDE. Deception fell the first tree, which then knocked over the second and we've been falling, dying, and rotting away ever since. Bud did Jesus enter in order to judge us? To condemn us? Not then and not now! He quickly discerns the situation, understands exactly what is going on (even though we are clueless and are focused more on blaming the source of the problem rather than dealing with the reality of its consequences) yells, 'stop!' and moves in with the hug.
I won't go into the theological unpacking of his response, which may on the surface seem less "hug-like" and more "punishment," but trust me for now, it's not. His response is nothing more than the announcement of His pre-determined, pre-planned response to our first ever disappointment and that was to spread his arms out on the cross and die in our place so that we wouldn't experience the consequences He knew we were heading into as a result of our choices. Jesus' entire earthly (and supporting heavenly ministry via the Holy Spirit) is encapsulated in the Genesis 3:15 promise he declares in the wake of the sin-war's first gunshots.
But back to the main point.
As I walked away from my son and his cousin, I was pleased for having changed their course of action. I was glad my son did not add insult to injury, destruction to accident, and that I could head off further pain. I also took some time to help him see how he could do some things with his now smaller chalk pieces that he couldn't do with them when they were new and whole. In the same way, Jesus has not yet reversed the curse of sin, but He has shown us how to act while earth remains in its dark valley.
And ironically, the way we are to act is the same way He acted and will continue to act. To stop people who are getting ready to add destruction to accident, misery to circumstance, insult to injury. And then to hug them so that they can get over the temporary experience of pain and learn the everlasting way of love.
Thus, as a pastor, I am charged with the continual redirecting and refocusing God's hugged people into hugging others, and teach his sin-arrested people into compassionately arresting others in their tracks so they can experience something else than the inevitable pain of another step in sin.
It's how Jesus sees things, I think. At least it's what I'm seeing now.
I had this flash of insight as I walked away from two giggling children--my four year-old son and his five year-old cousin. They weren't giggling when I encountered them five minutes earlier. Now they were happily writing letters and drawing shapes on my in-laws' (their proud grandparents') driveway. Moments earlier, my son, Caleb, had one of his new chalk pieces raised defiantly over his head, about to throw it down to shatter it on the driveway. No doubt things had started out more like I left them after my brief intervention. However, something had happened just before I arrived that had changed His relationship with the chalk, with his cousin, and with the driveway he had initially been at peace with.
After taking in the scene and asking a simple opening question, ("What happened?") I discovered that Caleb had dropped one of his new pieces of giant chalk (brand new, virgin chalk just received yesterday for Christmas) and it had broken in at least two pieces, disappointing him and dashing his joy at the same time. My knowledge about my son and how he often reacts to unexpected disappointments helped me realize that I had to act quickly to keep him from, in response, deliberately breaking the remaining pieces each, one by one. It seems that my son reacts to uncontrollable disappointment with controlled aggression. Since he wasn't able to control the accidental breaking of his chalk, he chose to feel empowered by deliberately breaking other pieces rather than face the sadness of the situation.
OK. Back story now complete, I can tell you that I yelled, "Stop!" which did keep him from immediately throwing the next piece of chalk down. Then, I ran to his side and embraced him. And his response to my compassion, was to break down crying and finally move through the pain he was feeling but trying to deny.
I know this may all sound like as much psychobabble, but I think I have the essence of the situation in the right light. However, it hardly matters what was actually going on with my son before I first yelled 'stop' and then ran to embrace him. This intervention would work with almost any painful predicament people find themselves in. It's just that, without Jesus in our hearts, we try to do all kinds of other things (gluing chalk together, inventing softer driveways, providing therapy groups for chalk artists) rather than providing what every heart needs. A command to rest, and then a loving environment to provide it.
It seems to me that this is exactly what the church should be. It was what Jesus was. According to Matthew's gospel, Jesus BEGAN by preaching "Repent!" That is, His first message was "Stop!" Then He quickly ran in with the hug, because, according to John's gospel, "He knew what was in man." Read that, He knew what we needed, and still does.
He knew we were feeling pain that couldn't be redecorated or remodeled satisfactorily to the point of reversing our pain. He knew that mere modification of our problems was just avoiding the important thing--that we were hurting. We were hurting ourselves and were poised to hurt others, all the while smarting from the evil we ourselves had experienced.
Look at the Garden of Eden as a petrie dish in which this first encounter with evil was tested. Enter sin FROM OUTSIDE. Deception fell the first tree, which then knocked over the second and we've been falling, dying, and rotting away ever since. Bud did Jesus enter in order to judge us? To condemn us? Not then and not now! He quickly discerns the situation, understands exactly what is going on (even though we are clueless and are focused more on blaming the source of the problem rather than dealing with the reality of its consequences) yells, 'stop!' and moves in with the hug.
I won't go into the theological unpacking of his response, which may on the surface seem less "hug-like" and more "punishment," but trust me for now, it's not. His response is nothing more than the announcement of His pre-determined, pre-planned response to our first ever disappointment and that was to spread his arms out on the cross and die in our place so that we wouldn't experience the consequences He knew we were heading into as a result of our choices. Jesus' entire earthly (and supporting heavenly ministry via the Holy Spirit) is encapsulated in the Genesis 3:15 promise he declares in the wake of the sin-war's first gunshots.
But back to the main point.
As I walked away from my son and his cousin, I was pleased for having changed their course of action. I was glad my son did not add insult to injury, destruction to accident, and that I could head off further pain. I also took some time to help him see how he could do some things with his now smaller chalk pieces that he couldn't do with them when they were new and whole. In the same way, Jesus has not yet reversed the curse of sin, but He has shown us how to act while earth remains in its dark valley.
And ironically, the way we are to act is the same way He acted and will continue to act. To stop people who are getting ready to add destruction to accident, misery to circumstance, insult to injury. And then to hug them so that they can get over the temporary experience of pain and learn the everlasting way of love.
Thus, as a pastor, I am charged with the continual redirecting and refocusing God's hugged people into hugging others, and teach his sin-arrested people into compassionately arresting others in their tracks so they can experience something else than the inevitable pain of another step in sin.
It's how Jesus sees things, I think. At least it's what I'm seeing now.
Luke 14:1-24 Ethics Redefined
Having Jesus over for lunch can be hazardous to your perspective on life.
In this passage, Jesus is attending a Sabbath meal at the home of one of the "rulers of the Pharisees." Jesus no sooner sits down than he has three things to teach the Pharisees who invited him. The first comes without prompting. It is to clarify the purpose of the Sabbath. Now, correct me if I'm wrong; but I can't think of any situation where Jesus wasted a single breath giving credence to a single man-made tradition. In all four gospels, there is no evidence that Jesus came to bring reform to anything other than the very principles and statues that he commanded in the first place.
When Jesus says, "You have heard that...," he is doubtless opening a conversation that will lead to a new perspective on an old teaching. And although he doesn't use that phrase specifically in this passage, his method of teaching is precisely that. Implied in this first exchange is the introduction, 'You have heard that it is UNlawful to heal on the Sabbath.' It has been suggested by many that this is evidence of Jesus' redefinition of the Sabbath-- a premonition of its ultimate end at the cross. But this could hardly be the case if Jesus actually makes time on this particular occasion to change the Pharisaical perspective on one of his commandments.
A strong parallel to this first teaching is found over and over in the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus broadens and expands the prevalent understanding on two other of the 10 commandments-- murder and adultery. In each of these cases, he brings up an old commandment in order to give it new life and bearing on the present context of his listeners.
Now, Jesus takes up the Sabbath commandment, the fourth of the Decalogue which prompts the question of WHY he would do such a thing if his purpose was to repeal that requirement altogether. However, instead of rebuking their petty insistence on Sabbath observance, he broadens the application of the Sabbath to the realm of DOING rather than exclusively NOT doing. Again, this is parallel with his Sermon on the Mount treatment of murder and adultery where the POSITIVE obligations of loving and respecting others in the heart are added to the prohibitions against killing and fornication.
And Jesus is not going to merely comment about eating or socializing on the Sabbath. He is going to directly defend his people's right to expect health and healing from their Sabbath experience. Perhaps this is in response to something one of these teachers said in synagogue that morning. Maybe in the morning service, there had been some ghastly human tradition put forth as a precept of the Almighty. And unknown to them, the Almighty had been sitting in the congregation listening.
Needless to say, the burden to LIFT burdens is on Jesus heart after spending a morning with these self-proclaimed proclaimers of his law. Imagine living a spiritual life, informed only by the teachings of those who routinely "bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers." (Matthew 23:4)
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The second teaching relates not to something the Pharisees are notorious for teaching--as in their Sabbath restrictions--but rather DOING. Go to any Pharisee function and you'll have to get there early to sit anywhere near the front. I'm sure they didn't have handicapped parking spaces in Jerusalem, but if they did, you can bet the "Reserved for Pharisee" space was closer! How human, the desire to be first. Yet, how contrary to Christ himself. I can only wonder where Jesus was sitting as he teaches this. Maybe they have asked him to sit at the head table and that is why Jesus' teaching comes with the caveat that it isn't inappropriate to sit in a good place, it's just wrong to choose that place for yourself. In any case, the Jesus I know would have felt more comfortable eating with the kitchen staff than with the rulers who invited him.
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The final teachable moment of the day comes in response to a comment made by a Pharisee at his table. And it's precisely why I made the observation I did at the first: Having Jesus over for lunch can be hazardous to your perspective on life.
I have to feel for this guy. He is no doubt uncomfortable with all the teaching Jesus is doing. After all, Jesus ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE TEACHING! THEY are the official teachers. As an informed Christian, I can attest to the fact that it is hard just LISTENING to someone else testify about Christ. So often we listen with little more than half of our brains, while the majority is processing what we're going to say next. Maybe I should have said, "Having a BLOG about Jesus may be hazardous to your perspective on life," because blogging is all about talking (or typing) what is in your head. And like all other human communication, it doesn't require much listening.
I'm guessing, though, that the man who made this comment was searching for what to say. He realizes that he is in dangerous waters. He was at the synagogue that morning and heard the teaching that Jesus is now responding to in his admonitions on healing and humility. At the very least, he is very familiar with the prevalent perspectives on these matters.
So he picks something safe. "Blessed is he who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God!" I can imagine the dance his guts are doing as he lets this pithy truism loose on his audience of esteemed fellow-scholars.
Instinctively, even subconsciously, every Pharisee knows by now that Jesus is not going to leave even mankind's most cherished daffodils unpruned. But he wants to have something to show for himself, on behalf of his spiritual pedigree. So he lets this one fly. And I can almost hear the pious 'amens' grunted around the room as other like-minded experts are quick to affirm his lofty sentiment.
And little exegesis is required to discover the bottom line of Jesus lengthy response: "For I say to you that none of those men who were invited shall taste my supper."
It turns out that Jesus has been planning a Sabbath luncheon, too. In fact, it has been in the works for several thousand years. And here are the invitees. He's surrounded by them. But they're not at HIS party. They're content with their own. And that's the rub. We can do and do and do and do as Christians, but unless we simply come to what we can't provide ourselves, we're left holding the bag.
"You're all at YOUR party," Jesus is saying, "but NONE of you are at MINE." Wow. Not exactly tactful, to say the least. But can you see the tears in his eyes as he drops his conclusion on them. Can you hear the scream of unsettling silence that settles over the room. Luke records no denouement, but simply moves on to the next incredible revelation born on another occasion, at another time, in another place. And so, like the gospels themselves, Jesus' words are left ringing across time--across millennia. Left to fall on the ears of those who might yet hear: do good on my Sabbath, live humbly, and please, PLEASE, accept my invitation.
In this passage, Jesus is attending a Sabbath meal at the home of one of the "rulers of the Pharisees." Jesus no sooner sits down than he has three things to teach the Pharisees who invited him. The first comes without prompting. It is to clarify the purpose of the Sabbath. Now, correct me if I'm wrong; but I can't think of any situation where Jesus wasted a single breath giving credence to a single man-made tradition. In all four gospels, there is no evidence that Jesus came to bring reform to anything other than the very principles and statues that he commanded in the first place.
When Jesus says, "You have heard that...," he is doubtless opening a conversation that will lead to a new perspective on an old teaching. And although he doesn't use that phrase specifically in this passage, his method of teaching is precisely that. Implied in this first exchange is the introduction, 'You have heard that it is UNlawful to heal on the Sabbath.' It has been suggested by many that this is evidence of Jesus' redefinition of the Sabbath-- a premonition of its ultimate end at the cross. But this could hardly be the case if Jesus actually makes time on this particular occasion to change the Pharisaical perspective on one of his commandments.
A strong parallel to this first teaching is found over and over in the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus broadens and expands the prevalent understanding on two other of the 10 commandments-- murder and adultery. In each of these cases, he brings up an old commandment in order to give it new life and bearing on the present context of his listeners.
Now, Jesus takes up the Sabbath commandment, the fourth of the Decalogue which prompts the question of WHY he would do such a thing if his purpose was to repeal that requirement altogether. However, instead of rebuking their petty insistence on Sabbath observance, he broadens the application of the Sabbath to the realm of DOING rather than exclusively NOT doing. Again, this is parallel with his Sermon on the Mount treatment of murder and adultery where the POSITIVE obligations of loving and respecting others in the heart are added to the prohibitions against killing and fornication.
And Jesus is not going to merely comment about eating or socializing on the Sabbath. He is going to directly defend his people's right to expect health and healing from their Sabbath experience. Perhaps this is in response to something one of these teachers said in synagogue that morning. Maybe in the morning service, there had been some ghastly human tradition put forth as a precept of the Almighty. And unknown to them, the Almighty had been sitting in the congregation listening.
Needless to say, the burden to LIFT burdens is on Jesus heart after spending a morning with these self-proclaimed proclaimers of his law. Imagine living a spiritual life, informed only by the teachings of those who routinely "bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers." (Matthew 23:4)
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The second teaching relates not to something the Pharisees are notorious for teaching--as in their Sabbath restrictions--but rather DOING. Go to any Pharisee function and you'll have to get there early to sit anywhere near the front. I'm sure they didn't have handicapped parking spaces in Jerusalem, but if they did, you can bet the "Reserved for Pharisee" space was closer! How human, the desire to be first. Yet, how contrary to Christ himself. I can only wonder where Jesus was sitting as he teaches this. Maybe they have asked him to sit at the head table and that is why Jesus' teaching comes with the caveat that it isn't inappropriate to sit in a good place, it's just wrong to choose that place for yourself. In any case, the Jesus I know would have felt more comfortable eating with the kitchen staff than with the rulers who invited him.
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The final teachable moment of the day comes in response to a comment made by a Pharisee at his table. And it's precisely why I made the observation I did at the first: Having Jesus over for lunch can be hazardous to your perspective on life.
I have to feel for this guy. He is no doubt uncomfortable with all the teaching Jesus is doing. After all, Jesus ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE TEACHING! THEY are the official teachers. As an informed Christian, I can attest to the fact that it is hard just LISTENING to someone else testify about Christ. So often we listen with little more than half of our brains, while the majority is processing what we're going to say next. Maybe I should have said, "Having a BLOG about Jesus may be hazardous to your perspective on life," because blogging is all about talking (or typing) what is in your head. And like all other human communication, it doesn't require much listening.
I'm guessing, though, that the man who made this comment was searching for what to say. He realizes that he is in dangerous waters. He was at the synagogue that morning and heard the teaching that Jesus is now responding to in his admonitions on healing and humility. At the very least, he is very familiar with the prevalent perspectives on these matters.
So he picks something safe. "Blessed is he who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God!" I can imagine the dance his guts are doing as he lets this pithy truism loose on his audience of esteemed fellow-scholars.
Instinctively, even subconsciously, every Pharisee knows by now that Jesus is not going to leave even mankind's most cherished daffodils unpruned. But he wants to have something to show for himself, on behalf of his spiritual pedigree. So he lets this one fly. And I can almost hear the pious 'amens' grunted around the room as other like-minded experts are quick to affirm his lofty sentiment.
And little exegesis is required to discover the bottom line of Jesus lengthy response: "For I say to you that none of those men who were invited shall taste my supper."
It turns out that Jesus has been planning a Sabbath luncheon, too. In fact, it has been in the works for several thousand years. And here are the invitees. He's surrounded by them. But they're not at HIS party. They're content with their own. And that's the rub. We can do and do and do and do as Christians, but unless we simply come to what we can't provide ourselves, we're left holding the bag.
"You're all at YOUR party," Jesus is saying, "but NONE of you are at MINE." Wow. Not exactly tactful, to say the least. But can you see the tears in his eyes as he drops his conclusion on them. Can you hear the scream of unsettling silence that settles over the room. Luke records no denouement, but simply moves on to the next incredible revelation born on another occasion, at another time, in another place. And so, like the gospels themselves, Jesus' words are left ringing across time--across millennia. Left to fall on the ears of those who might yet hear: do good on my Sabbath, live humbly, and please, PLEASE, accept my invitation.
Luke 5:33-39 Of Wine and Wineskins
I've heard sermons on this passage before. There is obviously a lot of room for interpretation here. Jesus is speaking quite figuratively as is evident in the context, because the train of thought flowing through his teaching at this moment as well as the situation he is in would otherwise not merit a discussion on wine-making. So what is Jesus getting at here?
I know the word 'paradigm' has been overused when it comes to the church-- pastors are asked what their paradigm for ministry is, church boards wrestle with paradigms while hammering out their vision and mission statements. But paradigm is the no doubt the thing that Jesus is up against here. The gospel of Luke-- and maybe all four gospels in general-- chronicle the Savior's battle to change the spiritual paradigm in the minds of everyone he meets.
Never does Jesus meet up with someone but he is immediately about the work of challenging their point of view. Even so, I do not perceive Jesus as being overly confrontational. He is amazingly gentle in his approach to changing minds. He is not a salesman, and even while he is continually casting a new vision for the Kingdom of God, he is not remotely close to a CEO or any contemporary leader I know. Yet, he is pushing the envelope all the time.
Consider the simple exchanges leading up to this scene. Luke 5 begins with the story of Jesus teaching from the bow of Peter's fishing boat. After he finishes his sermon, he challenges them to take up the same nets that have been frustrating them all night. After no fish for however many hours, their nets and boats are full to overflowing. It would be an understatement to say that this was NOT what these humble fishermen expected from a Rabbi--even one that was taking a particular interest in them.
Next, Jesus cleanses a leper. An untouchable touched by compassion rather than the fear and prejudice he was used to from others.
Then, Jesus forgives a man's sins. Blasphemy is the only word the religious leaders have for such an audacious claim.
And the last prelude to the Wine & Wineskin sermon is a feast with the local Union of Tax Collectors. An appalling display of broken boundaries and disregard of social order.
Now, having had every one of their spiritual sensibilities violated, their sense of social order upended, and now with their prejudices running at fever-level, they approach Jesus with the typically understated question about fasting. Just as an aside, we should note that people who are appalled at our behavior don't necessarily approach us with the obvious questions. If a religious person challenges your style of music, there's a good chance they're actually appalled at a lot more, and not necessarily with good reason.
Back to the wineskin discussion, it seems that given the whole feel and flow of this chapter and Jesus' ministry in general, that this very symbolic discussion is somehow a summary of Jesus' experience with mankind over the past several pericopes. After all, doesn't the limitation of old wineskins rather perfectly describe what's been going on in Luke's fifth chapter. It's the paradigm-bursting ferment of new ideas and revolutionary thinking that Jesus is dishing out. And none of it is particularly challenging intellectually. It just cuts across the gut instinct of his listeners. It rubs every prejudice the wrong way.
Now, I have met people who love the new. All the time, they are about the radically cutting-edge. Yet, I don't get this feel from Jesus here at all. Rather, he is uncovering an anciently old principle of unconditional love and letting it blaze a forest-fire of destruction across the verdent hills of pharisaic prejudice, which it turns out is alive and well in everyone's heart, not just the pedigreed preachers.
So, one final thought. Maybe the new wineskins are simply the young, or the spiritually young-at-heart. Since as we age we all naturally tend to settle into the rigormortus of our personal religious routine; and since it is the very nature of life to seek and finally arrive at and therby to treasure (and shelter) our long sought-after religious convictions, perhaps Jesus needs a new generation every... well... every generation, in order to rebirth the good news in a fresh way that challenges the status quo of the faithful; that knocks agressively on the doors of our hearts; that confronts the... yes... the paradigms of life.
I know the word 'paradigm' has been overused when it comes to the church-- pastors are asked what their paradigm for ministry is, church boards wrestle with paradigms while hammering out their vision and mission statements. But paradigm is the no doubt the thing that Jesus is up against here. The gospel of Luke-- and maybe all four gospels in general-- chronicle the Savior's battle to change the spiritual paradigm in the minds of everyone he meets.
Never does Jesus meet up with someone but he is immediately about the work of challenging their point of view. Even so, I do not perceive Jesus as being overly confrontational. He is amazingly gentle in his approach to changing minds. He is not a salesman, and even while he is continually casting a new vision for the Kingdom of God, he is not remotely close to a CEO or any contemporary leader I know. Yet, he is pushing the envelope all the time.
Consider the simple exchanges leading up to this scene. Luke 5 begins with the story of Jesus teaching from the bow of Peter's fishing boat. After he finishes his sermon, he challenges them to take up the same nets that have been frustrating them all night. After no fish for however many hours, their nets and boats are full to overflowing. It would be an understatement to say that this was NOT what these humble fishermen expected from a Rabbi--even one that was taking a particular interest in them.
Next, Jesus cleanses a leper. An untouchable touched by compassion rather than the fear and prejudice he was used to from others.
Then, Jesus forgives a man's sins. Blasphemy is the only word the religious leaders have for such an audacious claim.
And the last prelude to the Wine & Wineskin sermon is a feast with the local Union of Tax Collectors. An appalling display of broken boundaries and disregard of social order.
Now, having had every one of their spiritual sensibilities violated, their sense of social order upended, and now with their prejudices running at fever-level, they approach Jesus with the typically understated question about fasting. Just as an aside, we should note that people who are appalled at our behavior don't necessarily approach us with the obvious questions. If a religious person challenges your style of music, there's a good chance they're actually appalled at a lot more, and not necessarily with good reason.
Back to the wineskin discussion, it seems that given the whole feel and flow of this chapter and Jesus' ministry in general, that this very symbolic discussion is somehow a summary of Jesus' experience with mankind over the past several pericopes. After all, doesn't the limitation of old wineskins rather perfectly describe what's been going on in Luke's fifth chapter. It's the paradigm-bursting ferment of new ideas and revolutionary thinking that Jesus is dishing out. And none of it is particularly challenging intellectually. It just cuts across the gut instinct of his listeners. It rubs every prejudice the wrong way.
Now, I have met people who love the new. All the time, they are about the radically cutting-edge. Yet, I don't get this feel from Jesus here at all. Rather, he is uncovering an anciently old principle of unconditional love and letting it blaze a forest-fire of destruction across the verdent hills of pharisaic prejudice, which it turns out is alive and well in everyone's heart, not just the pedigreed preachers.
So, one final thought. Maybe the new wineskins are simply the young, or the spiritually young-at-heart. Since as we age we all naturally tend to settle into the rigormortus of our personal religious routine; and since it is the very nature of life to seek and finally arrive at and therby to treasure (and shelter) our long sought-after religious convictions, perhaps Jesus needs a new generation every... well... every generation, in order to rebirth the good news in a fresh way that challenges the status quo of the faithful; that knocks agressively on the doors of our hearts; that confronts the... yes... the paradigms of life.
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