Just (Don't): How to be a sinner, fail at faith, and die free ~ Galatians 2:11-21

Our passage, Galatians 2:11-21, is one of the most nuanced, dense, and difficult passages in all of the New Testament. For a point of comparison, there is a book written by a New Testament scholar on vss. 15-18  that’s slightly over 300 pages long. And while I appreciate your faith in me to deal justly with the Scriptures I will confess to you that there is a lot of difficult material here and I felt overwhelmed by dealing adequately with it. I was sharing that problem with James Heyen who said, “Let me tell you what one of my mentors told me. ‘In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.’” So today I’m preaching with one eye open – that’s all I got. We won’t be able to talk about everything and trust me when I say that I don’t see perfectly – and no, I don’t think I’m king – but I can spy with my little eye three things that are worth pondering together and I welcome to hear what you think: (Don’t) Be sinner like Peter., Gal. 2:11-14; (Don’t) Have faith. Jesus has faith!, Gal. 2:15-18; (Don’t) Play dead., Gal. 2:19-21. [The parenthetical “don’t” is my sneaky way of capturing the Bible’s often wily way of presenting the both/and reality of important truths.]

(Don’t) Be a sinner like Peter., vss. 2:11-14

Peter was a Christian – a solid one, a writer of Scripture, picked by Jesus himself. He was also not immune to making mistakes or even outright wrong-doing. In fact Paul says, he stood “condemned.” One of Jesus’ best buddies, one of his inner circle – called out. Why? What had he done? We are told that he “drew back” and “separated himself” from non-Jewish believers “because he was afraid.” Notice that it doesn’t say he believed that “righteousness could be gained through the law” but that he acted in such a way that suggested he did which hurt people through anti-gospel behavior. He was bowing to peer pressure and behaving, Paul notes, like a “hypocrite.” A hypocrite is not someone who fails to practice those virtues that she preaches. It’s not necessarily a failure to do or say what one believes. Paul, using a sort of ironic hyperbole in vs. 15 will note that everyone is a sinner – everyone fails. That reality binds us all together. Jesus himself preached that forgetting our sinfulness makes us blind (Matt. 7:1-6). So a better understanding of the term, “hypocrite” comes from the world of theater and translates as “play-acting;” it involves active deception by pretending to do or believe something that you knowingly do not. Breaking fellowship with Gentile believers over Torah food restrictions wasn’t a simple sin on Peter’s part but an intentional act of fraudulence. His play-acting told others that they were “less than” in God’s kingdom. Feel that trauma for a moment – being overlooked, considered less-than, or ignored by a “Christian” leader and friend. Don’t be like that. Don’t do that to others. Don’t be a sinner like Peter. Such behavior must be condemned because it undermines the very center of the gospel. But I also invite you to feel another trauma for a moment – Peter’s – being called out for personally and hypocritically harming the faith of others. How does that feel? What does that make you want to do?
When you feel that trauma – BE a sinner like Peter. It’s incredibly significant to acknowledge that Peter, who has all the power and privilege, receives Paul’s very public correction. He doesn’t get mad, storm off, cancel Paul, or even defend himself; but rather, appears to listen and change. So the most significant means of identifying Peter as a mature believer, despite his hypocrisy, was his ability to receive correction. Friends, maturity reveals itself less by whether we sin or not and more by how we respond when we do (to listen, acknowledge, and change). Peter sinned, he was corrected, and did not take offense. When it comes to conversations about sin and personal responsibility, our level of offendability often reveals the level of our maturity. Are we capable of being a church like Peter? Are we able to have our hypocrisies questioned and repent? Will we slide into the easy response of offense at being called out for our sins or will we endure proper healing? Are we willing to be a Proverb 15:31 community: “Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise.” How do we know Peter is a sinner worth emulating? Well, he will later praise Paul as a wise and “dear brother” (2 Peter 3:16). Friends, be a sinner like Peter. 

 
 (Don’t) Have faith. Jesus has faith!, vss. 15-18

I want to begin this point with a warning to all the men in order to spare you any public correction. Nothing ticks my wife off more than when a man, no matter how innocently, speaks about having a baby, by saying, “We’re pregnant.” Yes, she’s aware of the male contribution but hardly thinks that constitutes a “we-ness” when it comes to a woman’s experience of making room in her body for a baby, carrying a baby in her body for 9 mos., feeding a baby with her body, enduring the weight gain, weird cravings, strange nesting behavior, and painful birth from her body. I’m telling you now, she will stop you and say publicly, “There is no ‘we.’” That’s sort-of what Paul is also saying here about justification and Jesus. There’s no “we-ness” when it comes to new birth. This uneven partnership, however, has been obscured by the difficulties of the Greek language. All of the places in our passage that speak about our justification by “faith in Jesus Christ” or “in Christ” could be and should be translated as “faith of Jesus Christ.” That doesn’t change our need for faith but certainly places the emphasis, the direct action, the end result of our justification squarely on the faith of Jesus himself and what he has done in order that the world might be saved. Is our participation necessary for salvation? Yes. Does God woo us with an ever-giving, uncoerced love that ask for a decision? Of course. Do we need to submit intimately and personally in order to experience new birth? Absolutely. But like pregnancy there is no “we.”
Our justification, which means God making right what has gone wrong (rescuing us from Satan, sin, and death), is fundamentally determined and ultimately won by the faith of Jesus himself. We experience that reality through our personal response of faith but the accent, the point of the gospel, is that Jesus has accomplished for us what we cannot do for ourselves and that includes our own faith. Through his faith Jesus has changed the fabric of reality and order of our world. The kingdom is breaking in regardless of your decision. And that also means that even when I can’t seem to muster faith, care about faith, or even act faithfully – Jesus did, Jesus is, Jesus will. No one will faithfully stand before Jesus in all his glory and say, “My decision saved me.” No, we will all faithfully declare, “Thanks be to God. Jesus is Lord.”

(Don’t) Play dead!, vss. 19-21

That emphasis upon Jesus gets further fleshed out for Paul in vss. 19-21 which involve us thinking about our death mystically, metaphorically, and morally.
First, there is a mystical tension at work. Paul says that our transformation is Jesus living through us – NOT saving us simply for when we die but freeing us in the present. Our transformation is a real yet mysterious uniting with the faith of the Son of the God. In fact, we are given his righteousness through his death. Let me offer a possible analogy from climbing. Mystically – Jesus is our lead climber. When climbing something really high, the lead climber is the one who goes first and takes all of the risk. They will at times even have nothing that will stop them if they fall. But the second climber who must follow the same path is in an entirely different context. He cannot fall – he’s on rope or on belay and can hang on the rope, when necessary. In the spiritual journey of faith, Jesus has already climbed what I am incapable of climbing and sometimes must even pull me up by the rope. I am not a strong enough climber to climb without falling and even when I do, Jesus who is above me and has me on rope keeps me secure. So “play dead” - a main work of discipleship (not the only work, of course) is the surrender of my own will and faith to Jesus who will transform me from the inside out. He has already ensured that I will make it to the end because his climb has guaranteed my climb. And that sounds like a cop-out but it’s one of the hardest things to do. Following the rules, no matter how well I follow them, will not get me up this mountain. And, it turns out, I don’t need them. Jesus has already climbed it and has me on belay. So you need to “play dead” to the idea that you are not your own transformation, that you are not the lead climber, that you can even fall. You’re not that powerful. It’s okay. You don’t have to be.
But I also believe that Paul is making a metaphorical point about death. My death is not merely a reference to a mystical union in which Jesus does for me what I cannot do for myself but a metaphor for following Jesus’ way which demands my death. I need to consciously give up (or die to) my will in the same way that Jesus gave up his own will to do the will of the Father. I must not merely "play dead" but choose to die, in other words, because I realize that the only truly way to live is to live as God intended, to live as Jesus did, which is not always the way I want to. I seek to “play dead” by setting aside my will because my will, my desires, my choices, often lead me to places where I actually don’t want to go or to behave in ways I don’t wish to be. So I must learn to die to my desire to be in charge, die to my hope to kill my enemies, die to my belief in my own self-righteousness. It’s a metaphor – always true even when not literal.
Third, we must “play dead” morally. It’s so easy to imagine the life of being a disciple to the life of being a law-abiding citizen – follow the rules, don’t lie, don’t steal, show respect, and then your life will be a success, God will bless you. And while I know that that’s not exactly what Paul means by the “law” or “works of the law” the premise holds. According to the law and its understanding of sin, Jesus was a sinner who ate with, touched, and connected with uncircumcised, unkosher, folk. And if that’s true – then, according to the law, Paul ironically asks, “Did Jesus promote sin?” His response Is literally, “No way!” And yet Paul also wants us to remember is that Jesus died condemned, as a criminal - not simply by Roman standards but Jewish ones as well. He will remind us, later in Galatians 3, what he hints at here about dying to the law. That, according to Deuteronomy 21:22-23, Jesus was under the curse of God because he was “put to death” and his “body was exposed on a pole.” According to the gospel story, we must recognize that a certain morality judged Jesus’ ministry as wicked, unbiblical and subsequently put him to death. We must “play dead,” in other words, to such morality and, in response, ask ourselves, “Is this the way of Jesus? Is this the path of suffering love, even if it breaks the law?” Friends, this is the only way to live – to be a sinner like Peter and take correction; to remember that Jesus’ faith saves us and not our own. This is how we join ourselves to one who “loved us and gave himself for us.” To lean into playing dead so that we can be free and allow Jesus to transform us in the present. Christ did not die for nothing. He is the center. Amen.

"Astonished": Notes on an Angry Apostle ~ Galatians 1:1-2:10

 

For Paul this letter is personal. And he is angry. In this opening section, beginning in vs. 1 and through the second half of chapter two, he skips his normal Thanksgiving and goes straight to a rebuke that’s challenging, and seemingly hard to apply. I want to be honest with you. Paul speaks harshly, at times. I might even argue too harshly. But that’s not meant to suggest that he’s wrong or that he has no reason to do so. No – because it’s people who are being harmed and not simply ideas that are at stake. I’ve found myself a few times in similar circumstances where I experienced a holy anger at a message that distorted the gospel and hurt people. In one instance, I was at a funeral for a woman who died from terrible cancer at the age of 56.  Her well-meaning pastor in the eulogy talked about how she was such a “good Christian” because she never doubted and never asked why. She was praised for suffering quietly without any complaint. I danced in my seat with agitation for what these people were hearing was not the gospel of grace and unconditional love from a God who rescued us but a presentation of “stiff-upper-lip Christianity” which stifles any expression of questions, pain, or grace. It places the weight of faith on what we do rather than on the one who frees us. One of my revelations as a pastor later in life has been that often good theology doesn’t do too much. But bad theology - bad theology destroys lives, wounds souls, kills. We should always be angry when people’s lives are at stake. What stands out to me in our passage this morning are Paul’s two broad, interlocking components: 1) protect the gospel for the sake of people; 2) defend yourself for the sake of the gospel.

1.    Protect the gospel for the sake of people.

It’s not your little “t” theologies, not your musical preferences, not your opinions. They’re important. They matter. But they don’t rise to the intensity of language and concern that Paul will take. On the one hand, in the Covenant, we have said that there is much that we can disagree on, hold differences with, and still maintain our unity, and our love. On the other hand, we must always remember that, according to Scripture, some things are worth fighting about and for. The gospel is one of those things. It’s our center, our hope, the very revelation of Jesus. To get that wrong isn’t meaningless. It harms others. But what are we protecting? According to Paul, what is the gospel and what should we protect it from?
The gospel – vss. 3-5 – 3 Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, 4 who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, 5 to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. A few notes:

It’s a joint “rescue operation” from God and Jesus. There is no mention of God’s judgment, God’s wrath, or even punishment; rather the gospel discussed rescues us from our sins and from this “evil age” – and this is God’s will, it’s what God wants. Both work in tandem.
Not from the future but from the “present” – that the gospel was to be an experience in the present and offer transformation now and not simply later and connects to a web of relationships in real time.
But we also learn that the gospel can be “perverted.” The word in Greek, metastrepho literally means to make something it’s opposite, vss. 6-9 – this anti-gospel was one in which followers of Jesus were required to be circumcised and keep the Jewish law in order to be made right with God. For Paul this perversion was wrong because it disturbed and enslaved people rather than freeing them. In this case, by relying upon their own effort and by requiring things that Jesus’ never did.
Paul will call his opponents “false believers” and say that they are promoting a “different gospel which is really no good news at all” (vss. 6-7) which is strong language – stronger than what I would ever wish to use but even more challenging is what made them so. In fact, there is a deep irony in what Paul is saying. It wasn’t because they were too welcoming but because they were too exclusionary adding extra requirements. It wasn’t because they were unbiblical, or in any way morally lax, but because they were not reading the Bible with Jesus at the center nor interested in widening the family to include new brothers and sisters (particularly who were gentile); they wanted to restrict access and lock people out. They wanted to add something more than Jesus and we still do that today. There must be no “Jesus and . . .” no matter how biblical or moral it is.
For Paul, the gospel must be the personal experience of freedom from but also freedom for (it is freedom from sin, oppression, fear, social, ethnic and sexual identities, as well as the law) but not because Judaism or the law was bad. It’s like getting braces on your teeth and then having those braces removed. Braces (the law) are challenging and can even hurt but are not the problem. The misalignment of your teeth is the actual problem, the braces were a temporary solution but now there’s a better one. This is important because it’s necessary to understand that freedom from sin and brokenness aims to free you “for” by transforming your life so that you can “serve one another humbly in love” (5:13). However, let’s be very clear. It's not about “freedom from the Old Testament.” Yes, the OT must now be interpreted through the lens of the gospel – what God alone has done for our salvation through Jesus Christ – but Paul will protect the gospel from his detractors by utilizing the Hebrew Bible, which was the only Bible at the time. So the Hebrew Bible, according to Paul, was inspired and authoritative for believers. The issue is interpretation, particularly with respect to the law. We are no longer covenantally required to obey the law and its demands but look to it and the whole of the OT primarily as wisdom and the promise redemption of what God did in Jesus Christ. This is where Paul can be so helpful. He’s going to show us how to read the Hebrew Bible in light of Jesus and (spoiler alert) – he’s not a literalist.
We’re going to keep coming back to this point and we will see that Paul’s letter is a reeducation of the “true gospel” in which Jesus is the center, with nothing added, the cross is the metaphor, freedom is the goal, and love is the evidence.

2.    Defend yourself for the sake of the gospel

 
The rival teachers that Paul is calling out apparently devised a strategy to win over the Galatian Christians through theological and Biblical arguments but also by attacking Paul personally. But here’s the point. Their personal attack didn’t merely malign Paul but challenged the truth of the gospel. They sought to undermine Paul by persuading them that he was a phony apostle. So Paul isn’t bragging for the sake of pride. His reputation links directly to the point he’s making. If you were a physician trying to get people to understand that wearing masks would stop a virus from spreading and others were challenging that perspective by maligning your medical degree. You, too, would seek to shore up your reputation precisely because mask-wearing saves lives. This section is highly contextual. It’s bound to a culture and perspective that doesn’t neatly fit our time or location. BUT it is fundamentally about, “Who do you trust and what are they saying?” And that is an incredibly relevant question for us. At a time when anyone can say anything with the authority of God himself on a platform that is more global than Paul could have ever imagined– this question is critical. So how does Paul defend himself and how might we borrow from him? We must be careful, however, that we don’t confuse any healthy criticism of our attitudes, actions, or beliefs, as the same thing that Paul is experiencing. One of the terrors of Biblical interpretation is when we rightly read the Scripture and apply it to the wrong context. So I am going to briefly reconstruct Paul’s defense of himself and ask for you to thoughtfully and carefully apply it to yourself. Bear in mind – that Paul cares because reputation, in this instance, has everything to do with the gospel and people. This will be made all the more plain next week when we see the first real showdown between Paul and an odd opponent, the Apostle Peter himself.

First, Paul tells the Galatians that he is and has always been a “doulos of God” – literally “a slave” and not a pleaser of people. Given our context one might say follower/ally/agent of Christ.” Whatever word we choose should highlight attention on loyalty to Jesus and our voluntary desire to follow his lead, do what he does, and assume that he’s in charge, without compulsion. Paul’s point is straightforward. One beholden of looking good to people is preoccupied with pleasing people, a follower or student of Christ is passionately committed to pleasing Christ. In other words, evidence for correctness is the freedom of Christlikeness.
Second, Paul speaks of a community – vs. 2 (which include gentiles like Titus) – Paul points out that he’s not acting solely on his own but has others to speak on his behalf.  Importantly, many of those, like Titus, are gentles from the community under discussion, who are being wounded. A good rule of thumb for engaging any discussion: Don’t speak on an issue or about others if you don’t have a community that includes the (dis)affected. Don’t talk about the Christianity and racism without including BIPOC people in the mix. Don’t talk about the Bible and homosexuality without including gay Christians in the discussion.  Don’t speak of loving your neighbor without a community that includes the powerless and put upon. Otherwise, it’s a discussion that offers only echoes of what the majority or powerful already believe.
Third, Paul seeks to tell an honest story of transformation that praises God. He will name his own weaknesses and sin. For example, he will admit to having been a people pleaser in the past (“if I were still trying to please people” (vs. 10). He will admit to savagely persecuting the church (vs. 13) but will also talk about a personal transformation that gives glory to God. Friends, do you want to defend the gospel? Then, listen to Paul, and do so with a surrendered, Spirit-filled life that demonstrates change because of Jesus and gives glory to God. All other arguments pale in comparison.
Finally, Paul will cautiously honor those with authority. This is a difficult dance and not one where Paul will always succeed. In fact, we will see that in our next passage – Paul will have to call out Peter – the top dog of all apostles for his behavior which places the gospel in jeopardy. He will acknowledge that he has been vetted to make sure that he was correct and will at least begrudgingly acknowledge that some are “pillars” but fundamentally understands that authority isn’t merely isn’t due to a title or role but is subject to the gospel itself. And when Peter fails to follow that Gospel and actually harms other believers, Paul will have no hesitation to call him out.
One last story of a gospel in jeopardy. When I was a professor two of my students got married. I was so excited to go to their wedding – I love weddings and like the Apostle Paul believe that they are one of clearest examples of the gospel and our relationship with Jesus. But in this instance, it turned out not to be so. During the wedding, the well-meaning pastor did something that to this day leaves me fired up. He celebrated communion and gave only the elements to the Bride and groom. We weren’t invited to partake. We weren’t invited to share. We were by all accounts excluded from a meal of love to which we were all invited and asked to watch. And I was astonished at the distortion – that we were being denied what was ours by grace. This table is for all: no reservation needed, no dress code required, no entrance denied, no bouncer employed. This is the gospel (we move to Communion).

A Marginal Story for Pagans & Nerds ~ Matthew 2:1-12

 

I have nerdy children. I don’t know where they get it from – probably their mother. Perhaps the nerdiest thing they do is to have pun-offs at the table over a meal. Maybe, you think, well, that’s not too nerdy but they have them like rap battles where they give shout outs when someone comes up with a zinger of a line.

Most of the writers of Scripture were nerds as well and Matthew was no exception. Sure, he was a tax collector, demanding some sick math skills, but he also had some serious literary chops and he’s showing them off in this story. And while I am not a nerd (ahem) – I loved every moment of our passage this week. So let’s geek out together and do a deep nerd-dive of Matthew's story.

The structure and story of Matthew 2:1-12, is a literary trick, a sort of word-magic, called a chiasm. A chiasm is fairly common literary device, used by Scripture writers that involves repeating words, grammatical structures, or concepts in reverse order. The word chiasm comes from the Greek letter chi, which resembles the letter X, and represents the crisscrossing or intersecting pattern revealing the main point at the very center of the X. By seeing the pattern, you can better understand what the author is trying to say, by noting the contrasts or oppositions, you can understand what the author is trying to do. So the structure of Matthew 2:1-12 looks like this:

A. Curious Magi came asking “Where?” – 2:1-2 (cf. Numbers 24:17)
        B. Frightened Herod heard, asks “Where?” – 2:3-4
            C. Chief priests and Scribes answer, quoting Micah 5:2 “In Bethlehem.” – 2:5-6 (cf. Psalm                         72:10-11; Isaiah 60:1-6)
        B2. Frightened Herod sent the Magi to Bethlehem in order to kill the child. – 2:7-8
A2. Curious Magi went to Bethlehem wanting to honor the child. – 2:9-12

So let’s follow Matthew’s nerdy pattern and see where that leads us. I’m happy to say that it will lead us to a God-with-us, a God-come-down, a baby born in Bethlehem, who welcomes and works with pagans and nerds.

1)    A. Curious Magi came asking “Where?” – 2:1-2 (cf. Numbers 24:17)

Matthew sought to begin our story by keeping Christmas weird. Not for the sake of creating controversy or showing how smart he was but because it was controversial and weird! It’s a fringe story of strange characters and none perhaps so strange as the Magi, wise men, kings. Who are these guys? Is it just guys? Are there only three?

 So let’s get into it. The word Magi [μάγος] doesn’t mean “wise” or “learned” or “king” and is not a Greek word but is an adopted Persian word referring to a special caste of Zoroastrian priests within the Persian empire or modern day Iran. These were non-Jewish followers of the prophet Zarathustra who spoke of the God, Ahura Mazda who was locked in a battle against the great, evil spirit, Angra Mainyu, for the destiny of the universe. Their sacred text is called the Avesta and they still exist today though largely stamped out by the presence of Islam. It would be incorrect to call them “wise,” not because they were uneducated, but because spiritually and culturally there very practices of astrology and divination were expressly forbidden by the Torah as being wicked (e.g. Leviticus 19:26, 31; 20:6, 27).

Deuteronomy 18:9-13 is indictment enough: "When you enter the land the Lord your God is giving you, do not learn to imitate the detestable ways of the nations there. Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord." So there is a sort of white-washing going on, not in our Bible, but in our own Christmas imagination that we must understand and sit with. It’s true that singing “We three pagan, Zoroastrian priests . . .”  doesn’t roll off the tongue so well but by re-historicizing the Magi as pagan priests we better understand Matthew and continue to lean into the question we asked last week, “Who is this baby for – some or all?”

The magi were the “wrong” people who were the heroes of the story. They saw God first and asked “Where?”. By means of their illicit astrological expertise, these pagans happened upon a sign. How did they know that a star signified the birth of a Jewish king? They must have learned it from another pagan prophet, Balaam, who made it into the Bible prophesying that “a star shall come out of Jacob” (Numbers 24:17). You remember Balaam, right? He’s the pagan prophet hired by the king of Moab to curse the Israelites on their way to the promised land but every time he opens his mouth, he can only utter a blessing. Perhaps that prophecy filtered down to them.

By making these guys simply “wise men” or by transliterating the word Magi without spelling out the fact that these were “detestable” pagans we remove the radical recognition that these non-Jewish priests, who were defined as despicable by the Torah, recognized that God was at work first. By refusing to remember their feared ethnic and spiritual foreignness, we risk muting the radical reality that the incarnation signals – this baby may be Jewish but he is king of all – and even so-called wicked ones, who shouldn’t know it, travel far and offer their lives to him.

2)    B. Frightened Herod heard, asks “Where?” – 2:3-4

In contrast to the curious Magi, we have Herod asking the local religious scholars of the day, “Where?”. These were supposed to be the wise ones who should have seen the evidence but until the pagan priests come and ask first they do not recognize it. What hinders their ability to see the star? What hinders ours? Perhaps they forgot to look up?

More than simply not being curious, they are afraid. It can be hard to look up when you’re afraid. We should not discount the level of conflict, fear, and dis-ease in this passage. Before Herod asks anything, the story tells us that he is afraid (2:3) and all of Jerusalem with him (2:3). That’s the nature of despotic rule. Its subjects are forced to experience what it experiences, particularly whatever makes that ruler afraid. They don’t want you to look up. They want you to look at them. They want you as afraid as they are and want that fear to focus on them. And Herod was a particularly fearful guy. He had ten wives, ordered multiple assassinations, including assassinations of some of his own sons, and, changed succession plans multiple times.

We’re supposed to marvel at these oddly opposite responses. The outsiders see it. The insiders don’t. The outsiders are curious. The insiders are afraid. Matthew is nerdily telling us – a curious, upside-down-kingdom, overflowing with mercy, is what this baby is all about.

3)    C. Chief priests and Scribes answer, quoting Micah 5:2 “In Bethlehem.” – 2:5-6 (cf. Psalm 72:10-11; Isaiah 60:1-6)

Now we reach the center of the chiasm - a passage from Micah 5:2. It answers the question that the Magi and Herod voice out loud —the question of “Where?” this king will be born. But it does even more than that. It becomes a focal point for how we should understand who this king’s coming rule.

Matthew wants us to see and know that Jesus was where the Biblical story was headed all along and that that story was more than “who will shepherd my people Israel” but also about God’s great plan to shepherd us all.  Here’s the great reveal and what Matthew is up to. He’s more than just pointing us to an ancient prophecy about where the coming Jewish king will be born – not that that wouldn’t be cool enough. He’s also pointing us toward how Jesus’ will reign and rule as king and thus how to read and understand Micah’s own prophecy in a Christocentric way.

First, Matthew is revealing the good news that this coming king and don’t kill enemies. They convert them. The Magi – these pagan Zoroastrian priests are coming geographically from the ancient world of Israel’s greatest enemies – Assyria. They are stand-ins for this ancient enemy, of which the prophet Micah declares “will be destroyed” (5:9). When you encounter one of these prophecies, be sure to read farther and wider than one verse. When you do that, you read Micah saying that the messiah would bring security “to the ends of the earth. And he will be our peace when the Assyrians invade our land. . . . He will deliver us from the Assyrians when they invade our land and march across our borders. The remnant of Jacob will be in the midst of many people like the dew from the Lord” (Micah 5:4-7). When you place the broader prophecy in Matthew’s story, it’s about Israel being delivered from pagan Assyrians. And how is that done? Not by killing them, as Micah seems to assume, but, as Matthew points out, by inviting them to the manger! - not with border checkpoints that keep them out but by letting them “march across our borders” with gifts. Micah’s feared pagans, Matthew is telling us, are thwarted not by the strength of Israel’s armies but the love of God reaching Israel’s enemies.

Second, and you shouldn’t be surprised, God’s strength and victory are signaled by a wider tent in which pagans are coopted as blessings. Through the appearance of pagans, Matthew is highlighting how the Magi represent a live action drama of the redemption envisioned in Psalm 72:10-11 and Isaiah 60:1-6, in which pagan kings go on a pilgrimage to come and worship the One true God. But Micah’s prophecy also adds to this by claiming to wayward Israelites of God’s covenantal love by noting that God revealed his glory in the past and redemptive might by coopting – who? It’s none other than the pagan priest Balaam who God used as a source and force for blessing.

There’s so much more going on. So much more I have to say but I have to stop. I’ve run out of time though I could continue to talk so much more about Matthew’s chiastic masterpiece and what it is doing but perhaps stopping in the center is enough.  

And what does this center reveal to us? What is Matthew trying to say? The Bible is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to welcome and wrestle with any of your questions, doubts and fears – even if you’re a pagan. Be curious, travel to far off places, ask questions and listen. Don’t give into fear and remember well that God can be found anywhere. The Bible isn’t some paint by numbers, silly old book. It’s a twisty-turny spiritual masterpiece that beckons you to come and explore. You can be a nerd, bring all your intellectual abilities to this book and this baby and find yourself welcomed at this manger. The love of God is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to praise pagan priests who are condemned as wicked and turn them into blessings. The love of God through this baby is capable of converting enemies and making them friends, coopting wickedness and turning it to goodness, cuddling curiosity and turning it into worship. The birth of this baby is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to welcome all who are seemingly unfaithful. O come let us adore him! Who is this baby for? Pagans and nerds, pagan and nerds! Amen.

Marginal Messengers ~ Luke 2:8-20

This isn’t some Disney tale and it didn’t look like this. 

 

The region of Bethlehem was mostly desert, so there were no grassy hillsides. Grazing sheep in the desert meant constant movement to find adequate food and water. Shepherds had to cope with the fierce sun and then very cold nights. Since water is scarce, most of what they found was used for drinking (by both sheep and shepherds) leaving little for hygiene and even less for the ritual washing practiced by many faithful Israelites (cf. Mark 7:1-5). Not surprisingly, shepherding was considered a poor and lowly occupation in this world.

It was also dangerous. They had to watch over the sheep “by night” when desert predators roamed a great physical as well as economic threat because a lost sheep could mean lost wages.  Shepherds would have been illiterate. They were probably dirty and smelled like animals. They were houseless - “living out in the fields nearby.” 

If I asked you to describe a shepherd from this world, you would probably describe an older man. However, in the ancient world both genders tended goats and sheep, and many were children. The New Testament scholar Amy Lindeman Allen points out that often it was “children [who] participated in the welfare of their households through shepherding.” Even scripture bears this out. Several children in the Hebrew Bible are described as shepherds such as Rachel (Genesis 29:6–9) and David (1 Samuel 16:11) So the Bethlehem shepherds were near the bottom of the social and financial pile. 

 

Luke, more than any other Gospel writer, portrays Jesus focusing on the plight of the poor and salvation as a reversal of the social status quo that had economic impact in real time and not simply some heavenly afterlife. In the Magnificat, Mary’s incredibly uncomfortable, prophetic song about what God is going to do through Jesus, she sings:
He has shown strength with his arm;
       he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
       and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
      and sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1:51-53) [Side note: You need not literalize the rejection but you should take it to heart because this is what the poor often experience – being “sent away empty.” There must be some reckoning for that.]

The Christmas story of the angels announcing Jesus’ birth to the lowly, dirty, shepherds is the first sign in the story that Mary’s song is happening now. It is not simply in Jesus’ death that God redeems the marginalized and oppressed; it happens even at Jesus’ birth. For Luke, the Christmas story is one of turning tables on the inequity of the world. How is this being done? Two points and one question: The marginal are 1) invited to participate and 2) partner in good news. But, is this good news for all?

The marginal participate in good news. 

Howard Thurman, the African-American pastor, known for teaching and mentoring Martin Luther King, Jr., once said: “I do not ignore the theological and metaphysical interpretation of the Christian doctrine of salvation. But the underprivileged everywhere have long since abandoned any hope that this type of salvation deals with the crucial issues by which their days are turned into despair without consolation.” This is a sad and strong indictment precisely because the Christmas story announced to shepherds invites them to participate in the good news of great joy and peace in the present.

The basic fact is that Christianity at its infancy, was an invitation first given to underprivileged, children working the night shift, that a savior-king born in a stable had come to bring good news, cause great joy, and ensure peace, without ever stating that it could only be had in the great by and by – always for the dead but never for the living as if the songs of the nativity belong in funeral homes.

Friends, we need to hear the good news from marginal people so that we can be reminded what the gospel of Jesus actually is – that God glorified himself in Jesus Christ to bring all-encompassing peace. Peace in the Bible was not some absence of war or conflict. Shalom was the Hebrew word for “peace” in the mouth of every prophet that refers to a state of delight, wholeness, and universal flourishing. It referred to a promised activity of God, offered to human agents, to remake the world into a social, economic, psychological, and spiritual blessing. It was the very thing that Jesus taught us to pray for daily – that God’s will would be done “on earth as it is in heaven.” The shepherds would want us to remember that in a world often filled with oppression, worry about being harmed, getting something to eat, finding somewhere to sleep, children being abused, that that message and action of Christianity must always include the angelic cry of “Do not be afraid” and “shalom” today. Church at the Park is here today and has many opportunities for you to participate with our neighbors who are struggling and on the streets so that we can hear them say, “I’m terrified,” and we can say, “Don’t be afraid” and “shalom” and mean it. 

The marginal are empowered to partner in good news.

But the marginal in our story are more than recipients of good news. They are also invited to be active partners to share it. Funny enough, the first people they are sent to are Mary and Joseph. In fact, Mary will be left pondering and treasuring their message, we’re told in vs. 19. Imagine the chaos of young, dirty teenage girls and boys filling the stable with excitement where the new parents where trying to sleep. It was these rowdy, poor teenagers who were “spreading the word concerning what had been told them about this child.” They were the first participants of divine amazement. 

This is also what I love about Church at the Park and what should guide us as we seek to be good news agents of God’s glory and our neighbor’s good – we must let them teach us and share good news with us. We must let go of our parental sensibilities that always have us at the head, in the lead, in the know, with the power. We must stop telling the poor and marginal that we always know what’s best but actually come to believe that they have divine news themselves. When we recognize that – we will discover that the glory of the Lord that terrified them at first becomes what they might do to us. In vs. 20, shepherds are the ones who take up the terrifying song glorifying God that the angels sang and everyone else becomes a shepherd. We will we listen and share as well or will we run away – afraid? And that brings us to our final question.

Is a marginal gospel good news for “all”? 

I was brought up short this week by Luke 2:14. You knew Luke 2:14 before this sermon, before I brought it up. You’ve heard it, whether you knew it as Scripture or not, from the lines "I heard the bells on Christmas Day, Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet, The words repeat, Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" 

The carol is based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It describes the narrator's despair over the Civil War and the idea that "hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good-will to men". The carol concludes with the bells ringing out a message of hope, "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep" and that "peace on earth, good-will to men" will prevail.

And that’s what we heard in our First Nations version, that’s what I grew up hearing in church. That’s not what I heard this week, reading the NIV and a few other translations that said something different: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Do you see the difference?

By the way the difference between the two is a difference of one Greek letter. The first is εὐδοκία and the second is εὐδοκίας. The second translation has caused some interpreters to say that God’s peace isn’t for all but only for those whom God likes or chooses. Both versions, with or without the sigma, that little “s,” are old, both can be found in the earliest Christian commentaries, though, admittedly the “on whom God’s favor rests” seems to trend a little older. Lots of ink has been spilled on this controversy and I found myself knee deep in an argument over that one little Greek letter and its theological significance. And you’re probably expecting me now to tell you which one is right, which version of Scripture you should listen to, which interpretation is correct. And I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to tell you whom God’s peace is for because you have to decide that for yourself and act accordingly. You’re going to have to do your own study, your own praying, your own theological meditating, and make your own choices of shalom, because, in the end, you’re going to have to determine which good news you intend to live – for some? Or for all? And while you ponder which interpretation is correct, I hope you hear that heavenly choir. I hope you see the shepherds’ amazement. I hope you discover that beautiful baby and listen to the angel say whose solo precedes that heavenly chorus (Luke 2:10), “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all people.” I hope as you ponder like Mary that you carefully listen in amazement to that. Amen.