Readings (Track 1)
“Hear what the Spirit is saying to the Churches” we say. Well, what might the Spirit be saying to us through today’s readings? Let’s take the Gospel first, then the other readings.
Over the last two Sundays we’ve been hearing Jesus describe the practices necessary for this “church” project to not go sideways: humility, attentiveness, responsiveness, and forgiveness—as often as necessary. We could hear today’s parable as a continuation of that description, now focusing on the recurrent temptation to say “we’ve done the heavy lifting; that should be recognized.” Maybe originally it was what the Jewish Christians were saying regarding the Gentile Christians: OK, they can come on board, but keep them in economy class. But it can play out in multiple ways—we’re good at recognizing what might give us an edge—and Jesus is warning us that God’s kingdom doesn’t work like that. (So there’s considerable overlap with what we heard Paul saying a few weeks back: “Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty…” [Rom. 12:16]).
The other readings. Toward the end of our second reading just after mentioning “your salvation” we hear “For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well.” What do we make of that? Whether on radio stations, TV channels, or the internet it’s easy to hear that salvation—if we really have enough faith—means being in a bubble in which Nothing Bad Happens. Scripture can be dragged in, like the text the devil used with Jesus (“For he will command his angels concerning you… so that you will not dash your foot against a stone” [Ps. 91:11-12]), conveniently omitting “When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them” (Ps. 91:15). Even in this psalm full of over-the-top promises of protection there’s plenty of space for trouble and the need for rescue.
Paul has put salvation and suffering together. How does that work? In our first reading the Israelites are suffering, facing starvation, and the meager rations in Egypt are looking pretty good. God provides—miraculously—food in the wilderness. Praise is possible also in the wilderness.
Let’s extrapolate, thinking about that stretch before the quails and manna arrive. The suffering that touches us and those we care about is often physical. The healings in the Gospels, the healings that we witness today attest to the endgame: God desires our health, our flourishing. And God desires our healing solidarity with our neighbors, that God’s love be visible in the midst of this creation’s suffering. Recall Paul: the creation “subjected to futility,” now in “its bondage to decay,” “groaning in labor pains until now” (Rom. 8:20-22). Except in extreme cases I have choices in suffering: my suffering is all that matters—or not; I’m patient with my care-givers—or not; I nurture hope—or not; etc. Elsewhere Paul gives us another way of thinking about this: “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure” (2 Cor. 4:16-17). As we pray for those on our prayer list, we pray for their healing and we pray that in the midst of their suffering they may be a blessing to those around them. As Jesus put it “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.” (Matt. 13:33). Empowered by the Spirit, the choices I make in my suffering are part of that yeast. Or, as the SEALs put it, “I am never out of the fight.”
Let’s come at this from a different angle. The suffering Paul’s talking about in our second reading is from the government: some mix of Empire and local elites. We’re in a different, but no less challenging, situation. One of the confessions we often use speaks of “the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.” As the Wall Street Journal reports, Exxon’s scientists were warning back in 1977 that fossil fuels were contributing to global warming while the company continued to downplay that contribution.[1] And on our southern border, razor wire on floating barricades. We can be thankful the Holy Family fleeing Herod did not have to cross there.
Whether at the top or bottom of the totem pole the options look pretty limited. This is captured powerfully in Brecht’s Three Penny Opera. The translation is stilted, but therefore appropriate for a Sunday morning.“Of course I am unfortunately right, / The world is poor and man is bad. / We would be good—instead of coarse / But circumstances just aren’t so.” Salvation: not being trapped in this dog-eat-dog script. Salvation, again, not being cocooned from this world, but having new options. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk. 23:34). To rewind three weeks, it’s about Paul’s “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21), about Gerhard Lohfink’s argument that “the consequences of sin have to be worked off,” or as Martin Luther King Jr encouraged those attempting to desegregate municipal buses, “Be loving enough to absorb evil and understanding enough to turn an enemy into a friend.” Suffering and salvation.
Back to Paul: “For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well.” “Graciously”? “Privilege”? This is not the world we would have designed, but it’s the world in which we find ourselves, a world constantly threatening to rob us of any meaningful agency. But God in Christ has restored that agency, so that with Christ we may continue the project of—as the Jews put it—healing the world. Praise is possible also in the wilderness, and even before the quails and manna show up.
[1] See https://www.npr.org/2023/09/14/1199570023/exxon-climate-change-fossil-fuels-global-warming-oil-gas, accessed 9/18/2023.
With Jacob at Bethel 