Parables of Justice: Angry Jesus

In the Gospel of Mark we find the following story (Mark 1:40-41):

"A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, "If you choose, you can make me clean." Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, "I do choose. Be make clean!"

Recently, I noticed (and my seminary professors would be so proud) that one of the oldest manuscripts of Mark's Gospel does not use the word here translated as "pity" but uses the verb which means "being angry." If "angry" is correct (see Mark 3:5 and 10:14 which suggests Mark's willingness to speak of Jesus being angry) then it's not hard to imagine why a copyists would want to remove it. Most of us, I suspect, are uncomfortable with an "angry" Jesus. We want, as the song goes, a "gentle Jesus meek and mild." What does it mean to say that Jesus was "moved with anger" when approached by someone desperately in need of help? Obviously, Jesus was not mad at the request nor at the person - he "chose" to make him clean. Jesus was, however, mad at the condition. Mad at disease that marred his creation. Mad at pain that dehumanizes. Mad at the things that seek to steal, kill and destroy. Unlike Jesus, I rarely get mad at these things. I find myself often "angry" at people. People who don't share my beliefs or ethics. People who should know better or work harder or act right. Jesus' anger, however, reminds me that I need to reorient myself to love all who are broken with a particular fierceness at the conditions that put them there. That I need to be angry about poverty, exploitation of the environment, abuse, violence, homelessness, even sickness and disease. Jesus' rage at the leprosy that wracked this man's body reminds me of the words of Kaj Munk, a priest and playwright who was killed by the Gestapo for his outspoken beliefs, on holy rage:

"What is, therefore, our task today? Shall I answer: 'Faith, hope, and love'? That sounds beautiful. But I would say-courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature . . . we lack a holy rage - the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth . . . a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God's earth, and the destruction of God's world. To rage when little children must die of hunger, when the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and against the madness of militaries. To rage at the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction peace. To rage against complancy. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will change and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the Kingdom of God. And rember the signs of the Christian Church have been the Lion, the Lamb, the Dove, and the Fish . . . but never the chameleon."

Join me in being angry with Jesus and then choose, like him, to help others.

Amen, angrily

Parables of Justice: Beauty over Baseness

When thinking about justice – a word association game can be very revealing. I asked my co-workers to name as many synonyms for justice that they could in 30 seconds. The list they came up with wasn’t surprising and, in short, reflected the particular litigiousness of our western culture. They came up with words like: law, legality, cop, judge, compensation, and fairness. None of these words are bad in and of themselves but they can reflect a much too narrow vision of how we should enact the gospel in the world. Is the kingdom of God only a court of law? I don’t think so. In fact, I think a corrective for many of us is to realize the significance of beauty in relationship to God’s kingdom work.

When I was in seminary I did a brief internship at the Los Angeles Catholic Worker who, among other things, staffs a community kitchen in the downtown area. Prior to this, I always thought that I understood what a “concrete jungle” looked like but nothing could truly prepare me for what I witnessed. There simply was not a tree or blade of grass in sight - nothing but gleaming and burning broken concrete and blacktop which in the sun resembled a bleached, decaying skeleton. As I entered the serving line to take my place I was utterly dumbstruck by what I saw after I moved through the mass of people. When I exited the line I entered a courtyard which could only be described as colorful, lush, cool and vibrant – beautiful. Here – many of those who were homeless sat and ate among fragrant flowers and much needed shade from fecund fruit trees and I realized that my view of justice was too small, too cold, maybe even a bit lifeless. My experience at the Catholic Worker taught me that justice isn’t about meeting people’s needs with a cold and calculated rubric of necessity sprinkled with “just enough.” The Catholic Worker reminded me that giving my “leftovers,” whether food I normally wouldn’t eat or clothes that I would no longer wear, is not an accurate reflection of God’s giving. God gives better than that and has called me to give in the same way. Jesus’ reminder to “consider the lilies of the field” (Matt. 6:28) remains more than a promise but also serves as an indictment on my giving and challenges what I often believe justice for the poor should look like. God’s justice is not simply the provision of need or bare minimum giving but the offering of beautiful gifts to the marginalized and oppressed - God’s kingdom work is nothing less than beautiful and extravagant. To link beauty with justice is to recognize that what we give matters as much as how we give. I’m not arguing that we be wasteful or that the amount spent somehow makes a gift more acceptable but that beauty should be one of the words that encompasses what we do as givers of God’s stuff – “even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”

How does this bear out practically? Well – two things strike me as particularly pertinent at this point in the life of our church. First, as we seek to care for those in our community, particularly those who have suffered great losses due to fire – give good stuff. Jesus didn’t say, “consider the scrub brush of the field.” Simply put, don’t give away anything that you wouldn’t accept yourself – the base, the battered or the broken. As you give, be mindful of the One who creates beauty all around us and made us both appreciators and creators of beauty as well. To think and act this way is to move closer to God’s vision of justice. Second, our church has a wonderful opportunity to offer such beauty to our city by engaging in the Spring Clean-Up hosted by the city on May 30th, 2009 at Eastside Park from 9 am-12 pm. The event will include tree planting, graffiti removal, electronic waste collection, etc. Since 2003 Santa Barbara churches like ours have provided 1,700 volunteers amounting to 5,100 hours of service. What a beautiful vision of God’s kingdom and His salvation which encompasses not just human beings but all of creation! Believe the gospel and bring the extravant good news that is nothing short of beautiful.

Borrowed Words

Sometimes the wisest words we can speak are the ones we borrow. I as sit here struggling with the reality of fire in Santa Barbara and my often singed prayer life I have wrapped myself in the words of this poem. May they keep you warm and safe.

Praying by Mary Oliver

It doesn't have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don't try to make them elaborate, this isn't a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.

Parables of Justice: Humility over Hubris

In her article in the Covenant Quarterly (February 2007) Just Churches in an Unjust World: A Pastor's Reflection, M. Karen Lichlyter-Klein acknowledges that a well-found fear for the Christian working for justice is the

danger of thinking that somehow I have figured out what God's
justice is all about, and that I have somehow magically arrived
at a conclusion of my faith . . . And if for a moment, I come to
believe that I have finally unlocked the mysteries of God's
identity, I fear the sin of hubris might be my legacy" (25).

As I seek to be a faithful pastor helping the church enact God's justice - grounded in the revelation and activity of Jesus Christ, I am cognizant of the fact that I am often woefully inadequate to the task. Justice is just so, well - messy, intricate, and complex. Not only must I confront the inadequate definitions offered by secular political theories, whether liberal or conservative, but also my own brokenness reflected in my failure to see the ways in which I participate in injustice and in my failure to change when I do see it. None of this is meant to absolve myself from heeding Jesus' invitation to enact His kingdom but it does re-frame the project of justice as a whole to include my continued need for repentance and perpetual need to be reminded that this is not my kingdom, my cause, my project or my issue but His. Both needs, in other words, require that I return to the Scriptures and prayer as I seek to divest myself of the self-righteousness that Pastor Lichlyter-Klein so rightfully fears. And when I return their - looking, listening, pondering, I am reminded that Jesus's own teachings acknowledge my surprise, wonderment, even bafflement at what such kingdom justice looks like. In one parable, Jesus tells of a landowner who goes out into the marketplace three times rounding up workers to labor in his vineyard at 9 am, noon, and 5 pm (Matt. 20:1-16). When night falls, he asks the manager to call the workers in, beginning with the last group hired, and instructs him to pay them all the same wage. Needless to say, and I would agree with them, the earlier workers feel slighted stating, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat." They are incensed to put it mildly and I can't blame them. But as the narrative continues the landowner responds, "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?" This isn't a place for a sermon, despite my willingness to give it. But as I reflect upon this text I am struck by the deep grumbling in myself that agrees with the 9 am workers. Their complaint makes good sense and hardly reflects wickedness or selfishness. What it does reflect, however, is that they don't understand what true justice looks like - justice that is grounded not in equality, or rights but in God's deep generosity. And however we might wish to think about the implications of such a text in a civil society which defines justice precisely as equality, a significant meaning of this text is that it forcefully points out the inadequacies of our understandings, definitions, paradigms, and programs for justice. I believe that as we acknowledge this lack, we once again become followers of Jesus - followers of the one who came to teach us who God is and who redeems us from ourselves. Being a follower means that to understand truly what justice is - we must begin by listening and watching the One who knows - the One who confronts our grumbling and says that justice is being generous.

The Divine Vocation of Irrelevance

“Why are you doing this?” I was asked by someone who was homeless as he sat down for me to wash his feet. It’s a good question. Despite the significance of Maundy Thursday in the Church calendar, what did I hope to accomplish? How does such an act work to end the burdensome issues of our city and world? The act of foot-washing placed against the background of such crushing need and dire circumstances seems well – just so irrelevant. And yet I recently reread a favorite book on Christian ministry that calls pastors to just such a vocation – irrelevance. Henri Nouwen points out that our fast paced and technologically savvy world appears to want to leave pastors behind for more competent professionals – doctors, lawyers, psychotherapist, etc. Yet, despite all this secular wonderment, success, and competence, he argues, people continue in great numbers to feel cut off from one another and God - unloved, and unknown. So many people long for success, acknowledgement and fame, because this is how one supposedly finds meaning, how one finds love in the world. In response he declares,

The Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self. That is the way Jesus came to reveal God’s love. The great message that we have to carry, as minister’s of God’s Word and followers of Jesus, is that God loves us not because of what we do or accomplish, but because he has created and redeemed us in love and has chosen us to proclaim that love as the true source of all human life.

This is a good reminder as I seek to engage the wider Santa Barbara community. O how I long to be seen as helpful, successful, and respectable. But in the end, Jesus knows better. He gives me a basin, soap and towel, and asks me touch the body of one who is considered a failure in society. He asks me to listen to his stories and share my own. He measures success not by numbers served, dollars given or applause received – but by the giving and receiving of love.

Recently, I have been thinking more and more about my task in this position that the church has been so gracious to ask me to fill. Don and I have been working on an affiliation policy to help guide the church and staff members in ways that are best in keeping with following Jesus. Here are some clarifying thoughts for myself:

• I am to be God’s advocate on behalf of the church for those in need of compassion, justice and mercy (1 Peter 4:11). In short, I am to be an emissary of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am not a social worker, an activist, or a politician, but a servant of the Church whose task is to proclaim the good news and invite others to follow Jesus. This declaration means that there should be no distinction between evangelism and advocacy. My goal is not the transformation of the world per se but to help the Church live out its call faithfully in the world.
• Following Jesus may place me in questionable company and may mean that I “suffer for doing good.” (1 Peter 3:17) The Gospel accounts reveal that Jesus often associated with sinners and was reviled by religious people for just such an association. However, the issue for Jesus was the invitation of sinners to enter into God’s kingdom. In other words, get in trouble for proclaiming and enacting the gospel and avoid what distracts from it.
• Get in trouble with trustworthy and upright believers. Partnership begins (but doesn't end) in the Church rather than outside of it. (Mark 6:7) I may “participate” and “associate” with others because the gospel remains a welcome to all but “partnership” should be reserved for Church members and likeminded Christians. The intimacy of partnership demands personal commitment.

This last point has spurred me on to begin creating a Gospel Action ministry team to help facilitate the work that God has called our church to do. My recent experiences in the community and further reflection on my role, have reminded me that Jesus did not send his disciples out alone to preach the word, He sent them two by two. I have had a recent success in this area of corporate ministry by bringing together different business leaders in our church to reinstate a Benevolence Committee, which will be used to empower parishioners struggling financially by offering them practical financial and spiritual advice.

Now that I have a better sense of the myriad things that are currently going on in our community I am going to seek to bring people into partnership so that we can be faithful to the irrelevance that Jesus has called us to perform because God’s fundamental means of change remains the gospel of Jesus Christ, and God’s primary agent of change for the world is the Church.

The Lesson No One Wants to Learn: A Reflection on Suffering (Excerpt)

This past Sunday I was asked to preach on a difficult text: Hebrews 5:5-10. The text includes the startling truth, “All though he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered.” I began by telling the congregation that this is a sermon best whispered because like Peter, who was rebuked by Jesus for questioning his suffering, I have more questions than answers, but I don’t want to sin. I don’t want Satan to use me. Because of this I decided not to preach. My wife called what I was doing an “anti-sermon” but I decided to call it a reflection. The Apostle Paul tells us that this side of God’s kingdom we “see in a mirror dimly” (1 Cor. 13:12). Acknowledging my lack of sight in discerning the clarity of God’s word and the difficulties of our world seems easy enough, but often the older I get the more my sight seems to fade. Even talking about suffering points to our own present fragility and limits, both as subjects and as students of God.

I went on to explain that Jesus defined obedience as being compassionate as God is compassionate. How is such obedience learned?

According to our text, what elements are critical in Jesus’s learning of compassion amidst suffering - obedience to the Father?

1. Jesus learns to acknowledge suffering honestly

He doesn’t pontificate about the causes of suffering, argue a particular view of good and evil, or defend God. The text says that He responds in tears.

On the one hand, Jesus refuses to engage in a common sort of Christian stoicism – indifference to suffering – “keeping a stiff upper lip.” A state of being that I call “holy lying” where due to some vision of spirituality we choose to deny the realities of life. We here it in the “I’m okays” and “fines”. Now, this is a difficult truth. And I in no way wish to chastise those who are suffering for failing to somehow fall apart. What I want to say is that God recognizes that suffering hurts and that Jesus invites us to acknowledge it to God. To do so, is to confess a deeply human truth that we are fragile creatures, vulnerable to things beyond our control.

On the other hand, if Jesus weeps we must remember that not only is such an expression human but also divine. If Jesus weeps at suffering then on a fundamental level it means that suffering is not the way it should be. That God doesn’t revel and traffic in painful circumstance or horror for our good.

If Jesus weeps as one who suffers he also weeps for those who suffer. To weep with those who suffer is to express the fundamental ache of God for those who need redemption. I’m not saying that God is not providential nor in control – I willingly confess that these things are true. But to weep with those who suffer is a fundamental aspect of compassion. It is a form of suffering and a critical part of God’s redemptive plan. BUT the fact that Jesus weeps surely challenges any glib explanation of God’s providence amidst suffering. We must always remember that the God who uses suffering is also the one who weeps over it.

If Jesus’ fundamental response to suffering was to choose to share in our sufferings, to acknowledge the difficulties of suffering, to weep with us and willingly enter the dark uncharted spaces of our lives, then what do we make of the miraculous, the desire to end suffering though acts of miraculous power? What does it mean to be a healer?

Well, if Jesus’ miracles were the central event of the Gospels a cynic might rightly point out that most people during Jesus’ day were not cured. Mark 1:34; 3:10. It is true that Book of Revelation tells us that ultimately suffering will have no place in God’s kingdom where he will wipe away every tear, death will be no more and mourning, crying, even pain will vanish (Rev. 21:3-4). Yet, there are many who are so eager for this reality that they refuse to weep because they want suffering gone right now. They believe that what is required is power and that suffering is entirely evil and irredeemable.

I don’t have an answer for this tension but understand that Jesus’s obedience to the Father, his compassion for those who suffer and the healing of some while others wait brings us back to the mystery of God’s love. He did not cure to prove, to impress, or to convince. His cures can never be separated from his being with us. This brings us back to the great mystery that the expression of God’s love is not that our pain is taken away, but that God first wants to share that pain with us – that our salvation is because of divine solidarity. If God’s compassion in Jesus Christ is located in solidarity first and foremost rather than any expression of great power or authority, then Jesus’s obedience invites us to be as close to each other as God is to us. It means that no matter what happens we are to be present – healing, no healing – the test of our faithfulness as a Church will not be how we respond to suffering but those who suffer. In the movie Patch Adams, Robin Williams character says it well, “If you treat the disease you win or your lose. If you treat the person you always win.”

This side of heaven, what is important is not the cure of the sick, but the deep compassion that moved Jesus to these cures, his presence with us in our suffering. We would do well to remember the response of Job’s friends to his plight:

“Now when Job’s three friends heard of all these troubles that had come upon him, each of them set out from his home . . . They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” Job 2:11-13.

It is when they stop weeping and start speaking that are confronted by God and called to repent. The same is often true for us.

Three Action Verbs (part III): PARTICIPATE

Participate with others in God’s collaborative kingdom work – The summons to join God’s kingdom is an invitation to collaborate in work that He has already initiated and to which He has asked all believers to participate joyfully in. It recognizes that God’s kingdom is more than any individual person but found in the bringing together of the near and the far, Jew and Gentile, men and women, slave and the free – it is a corporate work that can involve both those inside as well as outside the church. In other words, God's kingdom work defines the community as both the means and result of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

GUIDING TEXTS: Ps. 24:1; Mark 12:28-34; Luke 10:1-2; Acts 10:1-8; Gal. 3:28; Phil. 2:1-4; 1 John 4:7-13
GUIDING QUESTIONS: Where is God at work in our city and how can we partner with Him? How can we integrate works of mercy more into our corporate life? What does it mean to act as the Body of Christ?