This week I came across an article on ReligionDispatches.org by Cody J. Sanders entitled, "After Westboro: The Trouble with 'Tolerance'" in which he states that "radical hatred and violence--like that of Westboro and perpetrators of hate crimes--is never countered by tolerance, but instead by radical acceptance and embrace." In reflecting on Sanders' words, as we began to observe "a holy Lent," I thought of how Jesus was intolerant to the point of death--that is, he would not tolerate people's/our sinfulness (which often involves violence and hatred), but called them/us to new life and loved them/us (even the unrepentant). And he died never perpetrating the "radical hatred and violence" of his accusers, but instead loved them/us to the point of death.
For Christians who are being tolerated, herein lies the difficulty: we can never allow our intolerance of being tolerated to take on the form of hatred and violence. Instead, we must love our enemies; love them despite how wrong they are; love them even if their hatred and violence should overtake us. We must love them to death...and trust that therein lies the power of God to overcome hatred, violence, and even the grave.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Journal Excerpts from El Salvador Mission Trip 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
We arrived in San Salvador only yesterday, but I feel as if I've been here for weeks. Today was our first day on the work site with Micah and others from the Fuller Center, and we worked hard into the heat of the day. A young man, J., joined us and did twice the work I could (and he was only 16!). I'm hoping my body adjusts soon to the temperatures and climate here so that I can help as best I can. All the while [we worked], I kept thinking to myself: "What does Christ look like in El Salvador?" I still feel that this question gets at the heart of the reason for my coming here. Inasmuch as I desire to share the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed, I am equally hopeful that I will receive new understanding(s) about Christ in the world outside of my normal surroundings. I wish that for all. Thank you, God, for the journey!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Our second day on the work site involved even more heavy work, lifting buckets of gravel and sand and cement into a large mixer, but there was more interaction with more of the families, especially the children...And that was some of the best stuff, that relating. What little spanish I know and am learning has been a great help. And the people are so gracious.
We've mostly been working on a walkway/sidewalk that is attached to one of the new houses, and I began to think about what I might say if someone asked me: "Why go all this way to build a sidewalk?" And I thought part of my answer might be that an Oscar Romero might walk there, a Lupita, even Christ might walk there...and in fact Christ will walk there, playing, living, loving in the lives of these El Salvadorians. May it be so. Thanks be to God!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The last two days on the work site, I was slowed down by an injury to my back, but it gave me the opportunity to relate to the families and fellow workers of El Salvador more. Those connection made it difficult to leave yesterday, not knowing the path ahead for many of them, especially the children, and wanting to be assured that they'd be okay. It's amazing how compassion (and even love) and concern can develop so quickly at times (and so slowly at other times). I pray, O God, that you would continue to bless and keep those beautiful families, those children of God, as only you can. And at the right times make me an instrument of your grace and peace, your hope and love. So it goes.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
We arrived at the Iglesia Bautista Dios Compasivo in Ahuachapan on Sunday and have enjoyed their hospitality and fellowship these past few days. We have each been staying with different families the past two night and that has been quite an experience. Already I have begun to feel like family. I quickly became comfortable with taking bucket showers, sharing a room with the grandchildren (there are four generations in F. and G.'s home!), and conversing at breakfast. Thank you, God, for this opportunity!
Yesterday we all visited the Seminario Evangelico Baustista Latinamericano (SEBLA), and I very much appreciate J.'s presentation and explanation of the Baptist situation in El Salvador, particularly the relationship between the ABES and the FEBES. I summarized that experience as the pursuit of unity in the midst of/through diversity. It's the same with ABCUSA. The SEBLA only seeks to keep the gospel in context (i.e., El Salvador), which I think is important (authenticity, etc.).
Later in the day, J., K. and I went to the Clinica for ESL teaching and games with the children, and that was a lot of fun. We even had two pinatas, and we played football on the porch. I have acquired/devised a nickname that has caught on: "oso grande" (i.e., big bear) and I am quite fond of it.
[Even] Later today we ate lunch with many members of the church under a large mango tree, and then walked 2-3 miles down the mountain road to the river. We hiked up past an old electric plant to a large waterfall, that was just awe-inspiring. We played in the spray and pool below with such joy. I thought of the psalmist who wrote: "Deep calls unto deep..." After a while I walked back up the mountain road with two young boys. Although we didn't understand everything we said to each other alontg the way, there were several shared moments of wonderment. Thank you, God, for your beautiful creation, and your children.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The reality that our trip is almost over began to sink in today, as I said goodbye to F. and his family, those I'd lived with the past three nights. I feel such a deep sense of gratitude for all that has happened, all that I have seen the past several days. The view at La Puerta de Diablo, and the volcanoe and the waterfall have been as wondrous as the faces of children and older men and women. All tell of the great love and constancy of you, O God (Ps. 19). Te amo!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Today was primarily a day of rest and reflection, as we concluded our time in El Salvador. Still we were able to make a trip to the sites where Oscar Romero and many others were murdered and martyred and now revered and remembered. I found it deeply moving to hear and see photos of the events of those days. Walking through Romero's home, I considered what things might be included were a museum to be made for me someday. Moreso I considered the weight of glory, the cost of following Jesus--not only must we be willing to die/be killed for such faith, but we who remain must have the strength and faith to forgive and give to the culprits, the undeserving. It is difficult to be a champion of and friend to the poor, but it is even more difficult to be loving, forgiving, etc. to our enemies. But so it must be...
We arrived in San Salvador only yesterday, but I feel as if I've been here for weeks. Today was our first day on the work site with Micah and others from the Fuller Center, and we worked hard into the heat of the day. A young man, J., joined us and did twice the work I could (and he was only 16!). I'm hoping my body adjusts soon to the temperatures and climate here so that I can help as best I can. All the while [we worked], I kept thinking to myself: "What does Christ look like in El Salvador?" I still feel that this question gets at the heart of the reason for my coming here. Inasmuch as I desire to share the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed, I am equally hopeful that I will receive new understanding(s) about Christ in the world outside of my normal surroundings. I wish that for all. Thank you, God, for the journey!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Our second day on the work site involved even more heavy work, lifting buckets of gravel and sand and cement into a large mixer, but there was more interaction with more of the families, especially the children...And that was some of the best stuff, that relating. What little spanish I know and am learning has been a great help. And the people are so gracious.
We've mostly been working on a walkway/sidewalk that is attached to one of the new houses, and I began to think about what I might say if someone asked me: "Why go all this way to build a sidewalk?" And I thought part of my answer might be that an Oscar Romero might walk there, a Lupita, even Christ might walk there...and in fact Christ will walk there, playing, living, loving in the lives of these El Salvadorians. May it be so. Thanks be to God!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The last two days on the work site, I was slowed down by an injury to my back, but it gave me the opportunity to relate to the families and fellow workers of El Salvador more. Those connection made it difficult to leave yesterday, not knowing the path ahead for many of them, especially the children, and wanting to be assured that they'd be okay. It's amazing how compassion (and even love) and concern can develop so quickly at times (and so slowly at other times). I pray, O God, that you would continue to bless and keep those beautiful families, those children of God, as only you can. And at the right times make me an instrument of your grace and peace, your hope and love. So it goes.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
We arrived at the Iglesia Bautista Dios Compasivo in Ahuachapan on Sunday and have enjoyed their hospitality and fellowship these past few days. We have each been staying with different families the past two night and that has been quite an experience. Already I have begun to feel like family. I quickly became comfortable with taking bucket showers, sharing a room with the grandchildren (there are four generations in F. and G.'s home!), and conversing at breakfast. Thank you, God, for this opportunity!
Yesterday we all visited the Seminario Evangelico Baustista Latinamericano (SEBLA), and I very much appreciate J.'s presentation and explanation of the Baptist situation in El Salvador, particularly the relationship between the ABES and the FEBES. I summarized that experience as the pursuit of unity in the midst of/through diversity. It's the same with ABCUSA. The SEBLA only seeks to keep the gospel in context (i.e., El Salvador), which I think is important (authenticity, etc.).
Later in the day, J., K. and I went to the Clinica for ESL teaching and games with the children, and that was a lot of fun. We even had two pinatas, and we played football on the porch. I have acquired/devised a nickname that has caught on: "oso grande" (i.e., big bear) and I am quite fond of it.
[Even] Later today we ate lunch with many members of the church under a large mango tree, and then walked 2-3 miles down the mountain road to the river. We hiked up past an old electric plant to a large waterfall, that was just awe-inspiring. We played in the spray and pool below with such joy. I thought of the psalmist who wrote: "Deep calls unto deep..." After a while I walked back up the mountain road with two young boys. Although we didn't understand everything we said to each other alontg the way, there were several shared moments of wonderment. Thank you, God, for your beautiful creation, and your children.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The reality that our trip is almost over began to sink in today, as I said goodbye to F. and his family, those I'd lived with the past three nights. I feel such a deep sense of gratitude for all that has happened, all that I have seen the past several days. The view at La Puerta de Diablo, and the volcanoe and the waterfall have been as wondrous as the faces of children and older men and women. All tell of the great love and constancy of you, O God (Ps. 19). Te amo!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Today was primarily a day of rest and reflection, as we concluded our time in El Salvador. Still we were able to make a trip to the sites where Oscar Romero and many others were murdered and martyred and now revered and remembered. I found it deeply moving to hear and see photos of the events of those days. Walking through Romero's home, I considered what things might be included were a museum to be made for me someday. Moreso I considered the weight of glory, the cost of following Jesus--not only must we be willing to die/be killed for such faith, but we who remain must have the strength and faith to forgive and give to the culprits, the undeserving. It is difficult to be a champion of and friend to the poor, but it is even more difficult to be loving, forgiving, etc. to our enemies. But so it must be...
Sunday, February 21, 2010
1st Sunday in Lent - Pastoral Prayer
Dear LORD,
In this season
We remind ourselves that
We are dust
And to dust
We shall return.
We remind ourselves that
We will die
Someday.
O God, Some of us are all too familiar with this fact—
Through illnesses, natural disasters, accidents,
violence, aging, and the death of loved ones.
Some of us do not need to be reminded that
“the grass withers and the flower fades.”
Still others of us, O God, deny this fact,
Filling our days to the brim
With activities and entertainment.
We fight our mortality with busyness.
But in this season, O God, lead us
And surprise us
Into still, quiet places
Where we may realize that
Even though we are dust
Even though we will die
We are upheld by your Holy Spirit,
Which gives us courage and comfort
To sort through the tears, uncertainties, and trembling.
Help us to know and trust that—
Whether we wake up in our own bed,
In or beside a hospital bed,
Or in heaven—
We have never left your sight,
We have never left your arms.
We give you thanks for the assurance
Of your love made known
In your son, Jesus.
Who taught us to pray with boldness,
saying, "Our Father..."
Amen.
In this season
We remind ourselves that
We are dust
And to dust
We shall return.
We remind ourselves that
We will die
Someday.
O God, Some of us are all too familiar with this fact—
Through illnesses, natural disasters, accidents,
violence, aging, and the death of loved ones.
Some of us do not need to be reminded that
“the grass withers and the flower fades.”
Still others of us, O God, deny this fact,
Filling our days to the brim
With activities and entertainment.
We fight our mortality with busyness.
But in this season, O God, lead us
And surprise us
Into still, quiet places
Where we may realize that
Even though we are dust
Even though we will die
We are upheld by your Holy Spirit,
Which gives us courage and comfort
To sort through the tears, uncertainties, and trembling.
Help us to know and trust that—
Whether we wake up in our own bed,
In or beside a hospital bed,
Or in heaven—
We have never left your sight,
We have never left your arms.
We give you thanks for the assurance
Of your love made known
In your son, Jesus.
Who taught us to pray with boldness,
saying, "Our Father..."
Amen.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Remember that you are dust...
A few months ago our church, like many others, was making budget preparations, deciding how much we would allocate to this and that function of the church. And one day I found myself reflecting aloud to a fellow pastor about the extent to which long-time members of the church were invested in keeping the church, both its life and its building, exactly as it was or continues to be. We are all guilty of this to some extent, though some more than others. Wanting to hold on to an experience or atmosphere or style of being church that works for us, we can become attached to our traditions and place of worship. The problem is that the church is not meant to be a static institution, but a dynamic organism (the Body of Christ!).
So I began to wonder if part of the problem had something to do with an inability to accept our mortality. I wondered if the desire to preserve the building and the life of the church “the way it’s always been” for us ignores or denies the reality that we will not always be alive to enjoy it. This desire ignores or denies the reality that the Church is constantly changing—dying and rising—with new members who have new gifts and talents and ideas for ministry. I am convinced that churches that consist primarily of elderly members have succumbed to this desire and have become ingrown—forgetting to invite and welcome new members or preventing what new members there may be from exploring and expressing their gifts for ministry. And they are dying physically and spiritually as churches, even as they secure themselves in their beautiful places of worship, telling one another that they will live forever.
I believe that Ash Wednesday provides a way out of this scenario, a wake-up call, if you will: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” When those ashes are placed on our foreheads it can/should impress upon us the sometimes shocking reminder that we are finite beings with relatively little time to concern ourselves with things that do not matter. For however much we may want to ignore or deny it, we will return to dust. Therefore, let us spend our life’s energy striving for the kingdom of God for ourselves and those yet to come, because it alone endures forever.
So I began to wonder if part of the problem had something to do with an inability to accept our mortality. I wondered if the desire to preserve the building and the life of the church “the way it’s always been” for us ignores or denies the reality that we will not always be alive to enjoy it. This desire ignores or denies the reality that the Church is constantly changing—dying and rising—with new members who have new gifts and talents and ideas for ministry. I am convinced that churches that consist primarily of elderly members have succumbed to this desire and have become ingrown—forgetting to invite and welcome new members or preventing what new members there may be from exploring and expressing their gifts for ministry. And they are dying physically and spiritually as churches, even as they secure themselves in their beautiful places of worship, telling one another that they will live forever.
I believe that Ash Wednesday provides a way out of this scenario, a wake-up call, if you will: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” When those ashes are placed on our foreheads it can/should impress upon us the sometimes shocking reminder that we are finite beings with relatively little time to concern ourselves with things that do not matter. For however much we may want to ignore or deny it, we will return to dust. Therefore, let us spend our life’s energy striving for the kingdom of God for ourselves and those yet to come, because it alone endures forever.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
An Invocation: You Are With Us
LORD God,
You are with us.
You are with us
in the night times
as we sleep
in comfort
in love
as we lie awake
in sorrow
in fear.
Whether or not the night is kind
You are with us.
You are with us
in the morning times
as we clear crusted eyes
stretch and yawn
shower and clothe
the house silent
or full of youthful chatter
and music.
As surely as the sun rises
You are with us.
Grant us a sense of this
in the words
in the music
and in the fellowship
of this time
So that we can know you
and sing to you
in Spirit and in truth
with joy.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
You are with us.
You are with us
in the night times
as we sleep
in comfort
in love
as we lie awake
in sorrow
in fear.
Whether or not the night is kind
You are with us.
You are with us
in the morning times
as we clear crusted eyes
stretch and yawn
shower and clothe
the house silent
or full of youthful chatter
and music.
As surely as the sun rises
You are with us.
Grant us a sense of this
in the words
in the music
and in the fellowship
of this time
So that we can know you
and sing to you
in Spirit and in truth
with joy.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Monday, November 9, 2009
A Stewardship Sermon
“Unnecessary Giving”
Mark 12:38-13:2
Isaiah 58:1-12
Rev. Jason Alspaugh
First Baptist Church
Dayton, Ohio
November 8, 2009
No one really wants to be like this poor widow. And yet, to my surprise, more often than not, she is lifted up as a model of giving. Despite her circumstances she continues to give to the Temple treasury. When the DOW is down, when she loses her job, when she is homeless and hungry and has but two cents to her name, she remains faithful and reliable. And she doesn’t give 10% but 100%! She gives, even though it hurts. We should be just like her! … Seriously, if I ever preach that kind of message about her, you can send me packing. As one pastor has said, “I could put a gold star on her pledge card and parade her as one to emulate in front of my congregation…But I can’t…To use the widow in this way is to abuse her again.”[1]
If we want to hear the good news of this gospel text, we must first be honest and acknowledge that something is wrong here! Withhold any thoughts of admiration for what she is doing. Do not love her yet. But imagine hearing the sounds of coins being dropped into the treasury; and notice the contrast between the sounds created by the “many rich people” and the widow, as they give their separate offerings. The sound her coins make is almost no sound at all. Those two coins are almost as silent and invisible as she is. Why is she even in line?!
To answer that question we need to hear Jesus’ words about her, first, as lament; not praise.[2] It is sad commentary when Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” The reason for her plight and his sadness? These scribes. Andre Resner paraphrases the situation: It is as if “[Jesus] is saying, ‘Beware of the scribes…they devour widows’ houses, and look: there goes another one right there!”[3]
It may seem like common decency—that we’re not supposed to take from the poor—but it’s so commonplace that I don’t know that the disciples (that we) see the problem without Jesus pointing it out. She is just one of many. Today, I could throw out dozens of numbers and statistics ad nauseam to tell you something you probably already know, that the gap between the rich and the poor has been widening and hunger and homelessness are on the rise—locally, nationally, and globally.[4] And yet I don’t know that we see the problem and muster the compassion to face it without the divine compassion that Jesus exhibits. She is just one of many, but Jesus sees her!
In the Bible, widows are often mentioned along with orphans, and even strangers/resident aliens. These two or three together represent society’s most vulnerable people—those who are weak and have no resources or security. The Greek word for “widow” can simply mean the “one without.” So whenever you hear about a “widow” especially alongside “orphans and resident aliens” understand that it’s like saying the same thing three times for emphasis. Bold, underline, and highlight them and understand that they represent every person who is “without.” So this poor widow is also every woman, child, and man who has ever been taken advantage of, deprived of equal rights, harassed, beaten, killed, and told they were anything less than children of God.
So now love her. Love this poor widow because she was there when it was unnecessary—she came and gave when she shouldn’t have—and strangely it saves us. All at once she displayed her devotion to God and exposed the problem. If we truly hear the sadness and lament in Jesus’ words about her, we will not seek to emulate her, but free her (and those like her), because this should not be. Not only should this widow not be there, but these scribes should know better. They should know better than anyone the commandments of God:
“You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (Deut. 24:17-18)
“When you have finished paying all the tithe of your produce in the third year…, giving it to the Levites, the aliens, the orphans, and the widows, so that they may eat their fill within your towns, then you shall say before the LORD your God: ‘I have removed the sacred portion from the house, and have given it to the Levites, the resident aliens, the orphans and the widows, in accordance with your entire commandment that you commanded me; I have neither transgressed nor forgotten any of your commandments.’” (Deut. 26: 12-13)
Yet these scribes do transgress and forget. They pervert justice! Resner adds that “The religious and political leaders’ charge was to protect, defend, and support the widow and orphan, not rob them blind. Apparently the religious leaders of Jesus’ day had failed to relate to the law’s dictates that widows were not only not required to give to the temple at all, but, in fact, they were to be sustained by the tithing of others.”[5]
What does this mean for our giving? If you are here today or any other day and barely have two cents to rub together, you will not be expected to give. But those among us who have the means, should give in order to support and protect those who (for one reason or another) cannot support and protect themselves.
We should not give for the sake of self-preservation. Our sermons, worship, music, and building are to be but a means of grace, whereby we may experience the love and presence of God and usher in the kingdom of God. These are the means, not the ends. These scribes were caught up with walking around in long robes, commanding respect in the marketplaces, taking the best seats in synagogues and parties, and saying long prayers for show. These scribes transgressed and forgot the first commandment, which is not love of self, but love of God. And if you miss the first commandment, you miss them all.
Just a few verses back:
“One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, ‘Which commandment is the first of all?’ 29Jesus answered, ‘The first is, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; 30you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” 31The second is this, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’ 32Then the scribe said to him, ‘You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that “he is one, and besides him there is no other”; 33and “to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength”, and “to love one’s neighbor as oneself”,—this is much more important than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices.’ 34When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’” (Mk. 12:28-34)
We should settle for nothing less than the kingdom of God. Which is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. So let us give and spend our tithe on loving this poor widow and those like her. If we can love them, seeking the kingdom of God, it will be as Isaiah said:
The LORD will guide [us] continually,
and satisfy [our] needs in parched places,
and make [our] bones strong;
and [we] shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail.
[Our] ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
[we] shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
[we] shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to live in.” (Is. 58:11-12).
Love her. Love them. But do not love these things – these sermons, this worship, this music, this building – too much. (It is all very beautiful, but do not love it too much.) Again, they are but a means of grace, and ultimately they are temporary. Let us not get caught up with the privileges of our religious institution, like these scribes, and forget our responsibilities. The consequences are too great:
“As [Jesus] came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what larger stones and what large buildings!’ Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Mk 13:1b-2).
Not one stone on a stone… Not one.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mark 12:38-13:2
Isaiah 58:1-12
Rev. Jason Alspaugh
First Baptist Church
Dayton, Ohio
November 8, 2009
No one really wants to be like this poor widow. And yet, to my surprise, more often than not, she is lifted up as a model of giving. Despite her circumstances she continues to give to the Temple treasury. When the DOW is down, when she loses her job, when she is homeless and hungry and has but two cents to her name, she remains faithful and reliable. And she doesn’t give 10% but 100%! She gives, even though it hurts. We should be just like her! … Seriously, if I ever preach that kind of message about her, you can send me packing. As one pastor has said, “I could put a gold star on her pledge card and parade her as one to emulate in front of my congregation…But I can’t…To use the widow in this way is to abuse her again.”[1]
If we want to hear the good news of this gospel text, we must first be honest and acknowledge that something is wrong here! Withhold any thoughts of admiration for what she is doing. Do not love her yet. But imagine hearing the sounds of coins being dropped into the treasury; and notice the contrast between the sounds created by the “many rich people” and the widow, as they give their separate offerings. The sound her coins make is almost no sound at all. Those two coins are almost as silent and invisible as she is. Why is she even in line?!
To answer that question we need to hear Jesus’ words about her, first, as lament; not praise.[2] It is sad commentary when Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” The reason for her plight and his sadness? These scribes. Andre Resner paraphrases the situation: It is as if “[Jesus] is saying, ‘Beware of the scribes…they devour widows’ houses, and look: there goes another one right there!”[3]
It may seem like common decency—that we’re not supposed to take from the poor—but it’s so commonplace that I don’t know that the disciples (that we) see the problem without Jesus pointing it out. She is just one of many. Today, I could throw out dozens of numbers and statistics ad nauseam to tell you something you probably already know, that the gap between the rich and the poor has been widening and hunger and homelessness are on the rise—locally, nationally, and globally.[4] And yet I don’t know that we see the problem and muster the compassion to face it without the divine compassion that Jesus exhibits. She is just one of many, but Jesus sees her!
In the Bible, widows are often mentioned along with orphans, and even strangers/resident aliens. These two or three together represent society’s most vulnerable people—those who are weak and have no resources or security. The Greek word for “widow” can simply mean the “one without.” So whenever you hear about a “widow” especially alongside “orphans and resident aliens” understand that it’s like saying the same thing three times for emphasis. Bold, underline, and highlight them and understand that they represent every person who is “without.” So this poor widow is also every woman, child, and man who has ever been taken advantage of, deprived of equal rights, harassed, beaten, killed, and told they were anything less than children of God.
So now love her. Love this poor widow because she was there when it was unnecessary—she came and gave when she shouldn’t have—and strangely it saves us. All at once she displayed her devotion to God and exposed the problem. If we truly hear the sadness and lament in Jesus’ words about her, we will not seek to emulate her, but free her (and those like her), because this should not be. Not only should this widow not be there, but these scribes should know better. They should know better than anyone the commandments of God:
“You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (Deut. 24:17-18)
“When you have finished paying all the tithe of your produce in the third year…, giving it to the Levites, the aliens, the orphans, and the widows, so that they may eat their fill within your towns, then you shall say before the LORD your God: ‘I have removed the sacred portion from the house, and have given it to the Levites, the resident aliens, the orphans and the widows, in accordance with your entire commandment that you commanded me; I have neither transgressed nor forgotten any of your commandments.’” (Deut. 26: 12-13)
Yet these scribes do transgress and forget. They pervert justice! Resner adds that “The religious and political leaders’ charge was to protect, defend, and support the widow and orphan, not rob them blind. Apparently the religious leaders of Jesus’ day had failed to relate to the law’s dictates that widows were not only not required to give to the temple at all, but, in fact, they were to be sustained by the tithing of others.”[5]
What does this mean for our giving? If you are here today or any other day and barely have two cents to rub together, you will not be expected to give. But those among us who have the means, should give in order to support and protect those who (for one reason or another) cannot support and protect themselves.
We should not give for the sake of self-preservation. Our sermons, worship, music, and building are to be but a means of grace, whereby we may experience the love and presence of God and usher in the kingdom of God. These are the means, not the ends. These scribes were caught up with walking around in long robes, commanding respect in the marketplaces, taking the best seats in synagogues and parties, and saying long prayers for show. These scribes transgressed and forgot the first commandment, which is not love of self, but love of God. And if you miss the first commandment, you miss them all.
Just a few verses back:
“One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, ‘Which commandment is the first of all?’ 29Jesus answered, ‘The first is, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; 30you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” 31The second is this, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’ 32Then the scribe said to him, ‘You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that “he is one, and besides him there is no other”; 33and “to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength”, and “to love one’s neighbor as oneself”,—this is much more important than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices.’ 34When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’” (Mk. 12:28-34)
We should settle for nothing less than the kingdom of God. Which is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. So let us give and spend our tithe on loving this poor widow and those like her. If we can love them, seeking the kingdom of God, it will be as Isaiah said:
The LORD will guide [us] continually,
and satisfy [our] needs in parched places,
and make [our] bones strong;
and [we] shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail.
[Our] ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
[we] shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
[we] shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to live in.” (Is. 58:11-12).
Love her. Love them. But do not love these things – these sermons, this worship, this music, this building – too much. (It is all very beautiful, but do not love it too much.) Again, they are but a means of grace, and ultimately they are temporary. Let us not get caught up with the privileges of our religious institution, like these scribes, and forget our responsibilities. The consequences are too great:
“As [Jesus] came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what larger stones and what large buildings!’ Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Mk 13:1b-2).
Not one stone on a stone… Not one.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] Andre Resner, Jr., “Reading the Text for Economic Justice” The Living Pulpit, April-June (2003), 6.
[2] For a more detailed explanation of this see: Addison G. Wright, “The Widow’s Mite: Praise or Lament?—A Matter of Context” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 44 (1982): 256-65.
[3] Resner, 7.
[4] For some actual numbers and statistics check out the following websites:
http://www.nationalhomeless.org/factsheets/#basic
http://www.demos.org/inequality/numbers.cfm
http://www.bread.org/learn/hunger-basics/hunger-facts-domestic.html
[5] Resner, 7.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Abuse of the Church
I wrote the following poem a short time ago when I reflected on the relationship between individual members of the Body of Christ (i.e., the Church) who had been or continue to be ostracized and abused by other members who claim to represent the Church as a whole. For anyone who has witnessed spousal abuse (physical, verbal, etc.), as I did growing up, this poem may paint a vivid image of abuses we'd rather forget; for that I empathize and apologize. Undoubtedly, those experiences inform the writing of this poem.
The title--"The Abuse of the Church"--came later, but its ambiguity has helped me to reflect more deeply on this relationship, which at times seems dysfunctional to continue. That is, I initially gave it this title, thinking of the Church's abuse of other people, but then later considered that if the object of abuse was a member of the Church, someone inseparable from the Body of Christ, then the title not only spoke of the Church's role as culprit, but as victim. What appears to be abuse of "others" actually turns out to be self-abuse. And that is the great tragedy.
The Abuse of the Church
You hit me again
for the last time
I can't stand
with you anymore
I had hoped
the last time
was the last time
But again you hit me
I tried to convince myself
with the memories of photographs
and past acts of love
that the storm of you would pass
But again you hit me
I am bruised
where bruises do not reach
where moth and rust do not corrupt
you hated when you should have loved
spoke when you should have listened
choked when you should have hugged
I hope now
that God will grant our divorce
even as I contemplate
how I might still stay
daring you
to hit me again
until we are tired
and agree
that we'll all understand it better
in the sweet by and by
The title--"The Abuse of the Church"--came later, but its ambiguity has helped me to reflect more deeply on this relationship, which at times seems dysfunctional to continue. That is, I initially gave it this title, thinking of the Church's abuse of other people, but then later considered that if the object of abuse was a member of the Church, someone inseparable from the Body of Christ, then the title not only spoke of the Church's role as culprit, but as victim. What appears to be abuse of "others" actually turns out to be self-abuse. And that is the great tragedy.
The Abuse of the Church
You hit me again
for the last time
I can't stand
with you anymore
I had hoped
the last time
was the last time
But again you hit me
I tried to convince myself
with the memories of photographs
and past acts of love
that the storm of you would pass
But again you hit me
I am bruised
where bruises do not reach
where moth and rust do not corrupt
you hated when you should have loved
spoke when you should have listened
choked when you should have hugged
I hope now
that God will grant our divorce
even as I contemplate
how I might still stay
daring you
to hit me again
until we are tired
and agree
that we'll all understand it better
in the sweet by and by
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
