His, Ours, and Mine: the Pronouns of our Praise, 1 Samuel 2:1-10

I began the sermon by telling the story of 1 Samuel 1. If you want to hear my rendition you can go and listen to it at http://mcchurch.org/#/sundays/sermons. Otherwise, I encourage you to read chapter one before you read what's below.

 

2 Hannah prayed and said, “My heart exults in the Lord;
    my strength is exalted in my God.
My mouth derides my enemies,
    because I rejoice in my victory.

² “There is no Holy One like the Lord,
    no one besides you;
    there is no Rock like our God.
³ Talk no more so very proudly,
    let not arrogance come from your mouth;
for the Lord is a God of knowledge,
    and by him actions are weighed.
⁴ The bows of the mighty are broken,
    but the feeble gird on strength.
⁵ Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,
    but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.
The barren has borne seven,
    but she who has many children is forlorn.
⁶ The Lord kills and brings to life;
    he brings down to Sheol and raises up.
⁷ The Lord makes poor and makes rich;
    he brings low, he also exalts.
⁸ He raises up the poor from the dust;
    he lifts the needy from the ash heap,
to make them sit with princes
    and inherit a seat of honor.
For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,
    and on them he has set the world.

⁹ “He will guard the feet of his faithful ones,
    but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness;
    for not by might does one prevail.
¹⁰ The Lord! His adversaries shall be shattered;
    the Most High will thunder in heaven.
The Lord will judge the ends of the earth;
    he will give strength to his king,
    and exalt the power of his anointed.”

What does this song of praise teach us?

1.     The praise of one is hope for all.

There are six initial “my”s in verse one (my heart, my strength, my God, my mouth, my enemies, my victory) that quickly end and shift to broader pronouns, like ours, and peoples, like the poor and barren, and ultimately gives way to global and heavenly praise. What’s interesting is that scholars have noticed that vs. one is the only original piece of this song and that the other nine verses are a royal psalm of thanksgiving that appears in some form at numerous points throughout the Old Testament (2 Samuel 22:2-7, 28, 51; Psalms 113, 45, 72; Luke 1:46-55). In other words, this might initially have been Hannah’s praise but it was never simply her song. It was always “theirs.” She appropriates a song already known in Israel; a song that had already been sung by others.

The praise of the people of God is always personal but never individualistic or solitary. It’s always meant to be public. It’s always about God’s care and love for people and aims to encompass promises for everyone. And this is important because I have to say that I often wince a little at these types of songs, this type of praise, in which God is heralded as the almighty because God has intervened in a particular situation. Please hear me. I’m not saying that I doubt God’s almighty power or love. It’s just that my cynicism and experience with my own hurt and the unanswered prayers of others often makes me want to say to the Hannah’s, “We’ll that’s great for you but what about me? What about them? What about their barrenness? Why haven’t I been raised up?” And Hannah responds, “Sing with me.” We need to be reminded that Israel’s song, our song, my song, is that, as it says in vs. 9, “He will.” He will come through. He will make things right. He will. And we need the Hannah’s in our midst to bear witness to the fact that what they have experienced miraculously in the present, by God’s sheer grace, is what will be shared by all. When my father called and told me that my mom had cancer, so many years ago, I wept out of terrible fear that my mom would soon be gone. My friend Elaine May came to me and said, “Jon, I have good news. My mom had cancer over ten years ago and she survived it and is currently alive today. Let my mom be your mom.” She was saying, “Let my hope be your hope. My victory be your victory.” That’s what songs like Hannah’s do – they allow the joy and praise of others to help us have hope.

That’s always been God’s way of offering goodness – the election of Israel was never meant to be divine favoritism it was always meant for the nations (Genesis 12:3). We need to be reminded that Hannah’s gift was given for a reason more than her own happiness and she sings this song not upon becoming pregnant but when she gives her son away to God for the service of others.  Praise, in other words, always comes with a purpose. Friends, what we say of God matters for everyone, what we thank God for should be available to everyone, because this God is not first and foremost “my” God or even our God. This God, Hannah reminds us, is simply God – there is no other. So our praise is meant to buoy those who have no reason to give praise and what we praise should be understood as signposts of God’s judgment that will eventually come to the “ends of the earth,” vs. 10.

What am I trying to say? Little kids say “mine” and want to claim ownership, control, and sole rights for whatever they want. This is “my toy,” “my cake,” “my candy,” etc. And we all know, sometimes painfully, that someone’s “mine” may not be “ours.” That someone’s “mine” is stated to cut others out. Of course, I know a few adults who think this way as well. Hannah’s song – her personal story of miraculously giving birth which quickly which moves to broader blessings for the world reminds us we need to reverse our thinking. It’s His world, the song declares  – it’s about global redemption not simply about personal salvation. And what’s His he graciously allows us to call “ours” and, in the end, “mine.”

This is why we need story sharing because the story of God’s goodness that someone experiences in the present may not be ours today but it can be “ours” in the present, and “mine” in the end. What brings us hope is that all of God’s gifts may not be fully present but they are on their way. So what praise do you need to offer today which might give someone else hope for tomorrow? We need your stories to sing!

2.     The praise of One is a challenge for some.

In the first point, the praise of the one referred to Hannah and then to us but now it shifts to God. And God is the main subject, the object and the actor of this hymn (vss. 6-10). This God has the power to transform reality and the willingness to intervene. God is the incomparable one, the rock (vs. 2), the truly knowledgable one (vs. 3), the great demoter and promoter (vss. 4-8), and the lord over life and death (vs. 6). 

Praise of God acknowledges that God is not distant but active in our midst and that this God addresses us, makes demands of us. And this should be where we find ourselves a bit more sober. In vs. 3 Hannah’s hymn reminds us that praise is also about how we behave and the song admonishes us to guard ourselves against pride and arrogance. Why? Because what puts us on the wrong side of God, or places people’s lives in jeopardy, is not thankfulness per se but pride. It’s when we think we can do life on our own or blame others solely for their own fate. Pride is the killer of praise and at root to what the Bible means by “injustice.” Beware! We should heed Hannah’s warning to Eli, “Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman . . .” (1 Samuel 1:16).

We need praise because otherwise we feel that we are the authors of our own success and we think that we are untouchable. And it is often “untouchable people” who believe they can get away with anything. If God is sovereign – then watch out, particularly when you credit your success to yourself. If we listen to the song, maybe there is nothing more dangerous than to say, “Look, I did it all by myself.”

What follows then is a recounting of a series of stunning reversals that no one could have predicted or enacted: upending military might, overturning biological destiny, toppling the problems of poverty and exploitation of the poor and even the issue of death itself. These are God’s actions, God’s will in motion – and frankly it’s a reminder that God’s fierce love is a bit scary. It reminds me of the dialogue between Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and the children in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch and Wardrobe: 

“Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King. I tell you.”

For many of us there is also a struggle here – but isn’t life complicated, we ask? Does every bringing down and raising up happen at God’s whim? And we want our praise songs filled with footnotes. Now the Bible is a complicated book and even Jesus acknowledges complicated agencies of people, circumstances, events, etc. But, what the Bible acknowledges in its praise, the songs that we are given to sing, tells us something very important. God will not allow even complexity to stand above him. And this God will bring justice, he will help the poor, the shamed, the broken, and so we who sing his songs better do so as well. We are never commanded to understand God – we are, however, to trust him and praise him.

3.     The praise of One is about where you stand.

What would lead God to do this? Why does God answer Hannah?  Why does he help the poor, the weak, and the dying? What motivates this God? In Hannah’s song one preposition makes all the difference - “for.” In that word “for” the hope of God’s people – the hope of the entire world -  and the power of God are forever joined! God will do this, the song reminds us, not because we are good but because the world belongs to him. As Emma and Bob sang, “All the earth is yours.” What this means is that our end is not predicated primarily upon our behavior, though God takes that seriously. It’s predicated on God. This God – the song declares “will judge the ends of the earth” and “judgment” is the Biblical way of saying, sometimes delightfully and sometimes painfully, “What God wants, God gets.”

And this God, the song declares, will “guard the feet of his faithful ones.” Notice that it doesn’t say “successful ones.” We aren’t called to be successful, we are called to be faithful – faithful to the One on whom our success hangs. But why feet? Why not heads or hands or hearts? Maybe good rock climbing technique can help us understand. 

When you first begin climbing people tend to overgrasp – to use their hands and forearms primarily to secure themselves to the wall or to rock – they think that this is where their strength lies and where control is best found. But anyone who has climbed for a while understands a different reality – that your most trusted asset and strongest tools are your feet. Good climbing is won or lost with feet and good climbers will always shout out to one another, “Trust the feet.” In this context of praise, “to trust the feet” is to recognize that what you stand upon is much stronger than your own ability to hold on. It’s to understand that your security is not based upon your weapons, whether personal or national, your fate is not determined by what’s natural or biological, your livelihood is not secured by wealth and ability – your life is not guarded by what you can grasp. It’s guarded by him. So what determines your life is not what you hold on to but who you stand with, the sovereign God. This God will win.

And to stand with God is to stand with God’s anointed. The song ends with the promise of God’s anointed – God’s means of judging the earth. And where does this anointed stand? With the feeble, the barren, the poor, the outcasts, those whose lives needed help – he came for the sick, he said. So where should we stand? Where should we set our feet? With God’s anointed and who will that have us standing with – those in need. When we praise we are reminded that our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. Jesus is God’s judgment and certainly we can give God praise for that.

"Lord, there is a stench": the Gospel according to Lazarus

When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?" Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go." ~ John 11:32-44

In her book Accidental Saints, Nadia Bolz-Weber shares the story of discovering a new saint out on a walk with a friend in Denver. They noticed a small memorial plaque next to a Pentecostal Church called Pillar of Fire. The inscription read, “Alma White, founder of the Pillar Church, 1901.” Excited by the thought of a female church planter, Nadia quickly googled her name and came across a Wikipedia article which she read with growing excitement and admiration: “Alma Bridwell White (June 16, 1862 – June 26, 1946) . . . founder and bishop of Pillar of Fire Church . . . first female bishop in the United States . . .  and noted for her feminism . . .” Her heart fell, however, as the article continued  “and her association with the Klu Klux Klan, her anti-Catholicism, anti-Semitism, racism, and hostility to immigrants.”

The next day Nadia called her friend Sara, an Episcopal priest, to tell her the story of how she thought she had a hero only to find out she was a despicable racist. Sara’s response, however, was equally surprising and troubling to Nadia, “E-mail me her name. I’ll add her to the Litany of the Saints along with all the other broken people of God.”

Is that right? Should we light a candle, speak the name, of a racist on All Saints’ Day? Doesn’t this beg the question, “what or who is a saint?” How are saints made? Who is it we celebrate on All Saints’ Day and why would it matter? Well, I imagine this morning that Lazarus might have something to say to us about that in what I am calling the Gospel according to Lazarus. The Gospel according to Lazarus is that . . .

          1.     Saints stink – they also cry, complain, doubt, and do stupid things!

What or who is a saint? We often imagine that a saint is a good example, a special person, one who has persevered against incredible odds to live a holy life, a dramatic life of sacrifice for God and others, and that’s not altogether a bad definition. Where would be without Martin Luther King, Jr.’s activism, Mother Theresa’s charity, Martin Luther’s theological insights?  But that’s not the definition of the NT and often not a reflection of real life. According to the NT, a saint, is anyone following Jesus – badly, with a limp, distracted, depressed, whatever. Paul captures the point perfectly in about every epistle when he greets churches with the statement, “To all the saints in Christ Jesus at . . . Corinth . . . Philippi . . . ,” etc. Now, he doesn’t say, “To all the saints in Christ Jesus except Bob, Mary, Jon?!, – no, not that guy, that guy is not a saint, a great example of a screw up, but not a saint.” In fact, Paul says this of churches with people who are doing some despicable stuff – drunk, promiscuous, bad theology – stinky stuff.

In our story, Martha is that typical church member like you and me who’s worried about that. She doesn’t want Jesus to have to smell that. “Wait, Jesus, you don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t open that! He stinks!” And Jesus responds, “Don’t worry, Martha, did I not tell you that what stinks can become the glory of God!” Jesus’ preoccupation with people who stink points us in a particular direction. It’s why I’m not a fan of the typical memorial service type of funeral – it often forces us to speak about the dead as if they were Jesus. On more than one occasion, I have attended a memorial service for a beautiful individual who was made to sound perfect – that they smelled wonderful. I don’t know how other people felt but my heart was broken because what the pastor conveyed was not good news for sinners but heroic do-it-yourself thinking by which the ill, the broken, supposedly never questioned their circumstances, never questioned God, never wept over lost opportunities because Saints, their praise suggest, never do those things. It grieved me because in their over-the-top praise of the dead there was no place for truth telling. Friends, if there is no stench, then often there can be no glory for God because deodorized people often only bring glory to themselves. Churches, in other words, should stink. And we can best do that when we confess who we truly are. That’s why we have confession. And why if there were saints here among us – they would confess not their accomplishments but their sins to you. If Martin Luther King, Jr., the saint, stood here among us he would confess that he had multiple extra-marital affairs. If Mother Theresa, the saint, stood here among us she would confess that she had bone crushing doubt about God’s own existence. If Martin Luther, the saint, stood here among us he would confess writing horrific anti-Jewish statements and calling on political leaders to slaughter poor peasants. If Lazarus, the saint, stood here among us, he would say, “Wow, I stank!” If the Lazarus story has any meaning for us as a church it is that our job is to tell Jesus, “Come and see” and lead him not to our charity, our growing programs, our beautiful sanctuary, our well-crafted worship – it’s to lead him to the stinky places, to the tombs, so that we can witness the glory of God. And what’s that glory – that you can stink and still be a saint. You can smell and still dwell in the presence of Jesus. That though you are dead – Jesus will still call your name.

Lazarus story reminds us that Jesus loves 4^th day problems. Fourth day problems are “no hope” kinds of difficulties. The soul according to Jewish belief lingered in the vicinity of the body three days after death. According to Jewish conviction, a resuscitation of one who had died was impossible on the fourth day, since the soul would not enter again into the body that had been altered or decomposed. But Jesus isn’t bothered by the smell – so you shouldn’t be either – he will look at the carcass of your life and say, “Bob, Mary, Howard . . . I love you. Now, get up, stinky ones . . . for the glory of God.”

This is not a spirituality of anything goes but one that says, “When it comes. I can let it go. I don’t have to hide my stink from anyone, especially Jesus." It begins when we open our tombs to his inspection. In AA they have a truthful phrase and that’s truth with a capital “T” – “You’re only as sick as the secrets you keep.” In church we say it this way, “The most spiritual thing we can do in the presence of the Great Physician is to show him our wounds.”

Do parts of your life smell like the stench of four days dead?  Lead Jesus there – and the Lazarus story clues us into how he will respond - weeping, frustrated by anyone who thinks he can do nothing with the dead. Frustrated? That's right! Most English translations have the Bible saying that Jesus was “greatly disturbed”  - but English scholars have whitewashed the Greek here. The weight of exegetical, historical and textual evidence renders this plainly in vs. 33 “he became angry in spirit and very agitated,” and in vs. 38, “Jesus therefore, again in a state of anger within, comes to the tomb.” But even in his agitation, make no mistake, in the end people will say, “See how he loved him or her.”

          2.     Second, the Gospel of Lazarus wants us to know that Jesus loves dead people.

Two interesting things about Lazarus in this passage. 1) First, in more than one verse in chapter 11, the writer John wants us to know that Jesus loved Lazarus (vs. 2, 36). “See how he loved him,” the people remarked as they observe Jesus weeping. And yet this point is made all the more astounding when placed alongside the second point. 2) Lazarus never does anything in the Gospels other than die and stink – he isn’t spoken of as following Jesus, sacrificing for him or facing hardship. He doesn’t do some extraordinary act like climb a tree to see Jesus, give all his money to the poor, anoint Jesus’ feet with costly oil, touch the hem of Jesus’ garment, or make some bold claim about Jesus’ identity. No, his Gospel witness is being the “dead guy” who Jesus loved and woke up.

Speaking of the dead, last week was Reformation Sunday – and if there is a Reformed message for us this week in the Gospel according to Lazarus it is expressed by these words from the dead Christian Martin Luther “simul iustus et peccator,” that the Christian is [simultaneously righteous and a sinner].” This was possibly Martin Luther’s finest theological point and worthy of our attention. Luther argued that being a Christian does not mean that one always acts righteously – that salvation is God implanting righteousness within a person. If this were the case, he pondered, how can we make sense of so many Christians who continue to do sinful things – big and small. How do we make sense of so many fallen saints? Luther argues, instead, that righteousness is external to us. He refers to it as “alien righteousness.” He means that we are righteousness not because of what we do or don’t do - but because God treats, or reckons, us as righteous as if it were a part of us. Martin Luther said, “The saints are always conscious of their sin, and seek righteousness from God in accordance with his mercy, they are always reckoned as righteous by God.” That declaration of righteousness by God, in other words, is what allows us to announce our sin and frees us from trying to earn God’s love. We can’t earn anything – we’re dead. This side of heaven, in other words, holiness is imputed not imparted to us. This side of Jesus’ return, the book of Revelation tells us, we are saints who weep (Rev. 21:4). It means that despite our vast capacity for self-centeredness, self-deception, sinfulness, or outright cruelty – our salvation and healing are not dependent upon cleaning things up or even responding heroically. What I am trying to do this morning is to read the raising of Lazarus as a “parable of grace”, an analogy for all of us zombie Christians who are trying to live the Christian life but continually stinking it up. Our salvation is simply dependent upon Jesus.

So our success in the Christian life, our ability to follow, our desire for godly things are always secondary to the all-encompassing work of Jesus who declares us to be righteous by simply screaming our name and calling us to “Wake up!” And Lazarus, doesn’t come out and say, “Did you see how I walked out of that tomb?  Pretty impressive huh?”

As one picture of the Christian life (and there are many), it’s interesting to be reminded that the following that Lazarus does is not by some courageous choice or thoughtful, reasoned argument but a lot more like waking up. The older of gotten that is also the picture that has resonated with me. If you asked me what I’ve done in my life that has gotten me closer to God, or more spiritual, I often have to admit that I’m unsure. If I’ve learned anything about Christianity it’s probably the same thing that Lazarus learned– that following Jesus is not so much about what you do but what is done to you, maybe even while you were sleeping.

The Gospel according to Lazarus reminds us that what we celebrate in the saints is not their piety or perfection but the fact that we believe in a God who gets redemptive and holy things done in this world through flawed human beings – even smelly, dead ones. What makes us saintly, what connects us to Jesus, in other words, is not our ability to be good but rather God’s desire to work through sinners. The Gospel of Lazarus is that God loves and calls us while we were yet stinky and while we could do nothing – we were dead at the time. The title “saint” is always conferred, never earned. All saints, in the end, are like Lazarus. I’ve never heard one – particularly the ones we tend to admire – say, “I did this myself.” And if our righteousness is not determined by our success – then it’s not hampered by our failure. 

So what is our response? What’s our job? It’s to unbind one another from the grave clothes. We can’t bring back the dead but we can make it easier for them to get around. We are to help those made alive by Jesus begin to walk in the light - to remove the things that hamper their walk, that cover their face. And if that’s the case, then why do people think we are so cemetery-like and why do so many Christians try and strangle one another or outsiders with these pieces of cloth? If Jesus is all about going into stinky places to bring people to life why are we so adamant that society better clean itself up? As you go today, you have one mission - to unbind those who Jesus loves, those stinky people that Jesus is making alive.

“Have you not read . . . ?”: Listening to Jesus when Love Gets Broken ~ Matthew 19:3-12

It may have been the worse day of my life. I woke up and got ready for work – a teaching assistant at UCSB – determined to do what up until that point I had been incapable of doing – taking off my wedding ring. It had been about 18 mos. since my wife at told me that she didn’t love me anymore and then slowly drifted away while I hunkered down in my own misery telling few friends and trying to be present to our 6 year old son. I remember staring at my hand feeling like the ring’s removal was the same as cutting my finger off and I wept as I tugged at it and put it away. So I steeled myself for the day, rode off to the History Department where I was to pick up some materials from the secretary – a delightfully chatty young guy named Mike, who was very helpful and friendly. I arrived at the office, grabbed my items, and spent a few moments talking with him about his new son, when Mike quickly chided, “What kind of married man doesn’t wear his wedding ring?” His words hit me with a force that I can still feel to this day. I quickly excused myself – sobbing as I ran out into the fresh air as everything seemed to go topsy-turvy. How could this happen? Why me? What had I done? Why wouldn’t God fix this? What would happen to my son? What would happen to my life? And then I watched as ³Some Pharisees came to him, and to test him they asked, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause?’ I perked up because the d-word was used and yet I immediately felt out of place – I didn’t want my divorce. It was being done to me.

⁴He answered, ‘Have you not read that the one who made them at the beginning “made them male and female”, ⁵and said, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh”? ⁶So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.’ “O Jesus,” I whispered, “I have read. I’ve read and prayed and cried. What if one separates anyway? What if, I was even coming to realize, this was not a good marriage?”

⁷They said to him, ‘Why then did Moses command us to give a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her?’ ⁸He said to them, ‘It was because you were so hard-hearted that Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but at the beginning it was not so. ⁹And I say to you, whoever divorces his wife, except for unchastity, and marries another commits adultery.’ “So am I doomed? She hasn’t slept with anyone else but wants out. I don’t feel “hard-hearted” – I feel crushed. I was just a kid – 21-years-old when I got married. Has that one bad choice sealed my fate? Besides, this feels lopsided only speaking about what men can do. “And . . .” I was interrupted – apparently other followers were also listening.

¹⁰His disciples said to him, ‘If such is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.’ ¹¹But he said to them, ‘Not everyone can accept this teaching, but only those to whom it is given. ¹²For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can.’ ~ Matthew 19:3-12

I’ve pondered this conversation a lot since then. I’ve cried over it, beat myself with it, argued with Jesus about it, and even wrapped myself in it to try and keep warm. A couple of weeks ago I spoke about reading the Bible with a human face – and today, I, along with others of you, am one of those faces. But you are my community and know that I love God and that I desire to be faithful to God’s Word – to read both the Word and my life faithfully as a follower of Jesus. So here is my attempt at that. What does Jesus want to say to us about how to read the Scriptures, the Old Testament, concerning marriage and divorce?

          1.     Marriage wasn’t made to be broken.

The Pharisees want to talk about rules. They want pragmatics, the simplicity of a regulation that arbitrates blame, innocence, and outcome. Jesus, however, wants to remind them what’s behind the law – God’s original intent, disclosed in the creation story (Genesis 1-3). They want rules, a way to play the game; Jesus wants to remind them of a purpose – a beautiful story of what God intended – to go back to the beginning so that we could learn how the world was supposed to work (e.g. gender equality, for example). He wants us to see what God has done to bring life while they want to stand over loves’ carcass and dicker over who gets what. They wanted him to choose sides in the debate of the time – the proper reasons a man can lawfully divorce his wife. The school of Shammai said that only those things related to unchastity or sexual immodesty were proper grounds for divorce while the school of Hillel said that a husband might divorce his wife for “anything” as trivial as spoiling dinner. Jesus, however, doesn’t want to play. In fact, I get the sense that Jesus doesn’t like to be “tested” ("tested" is that Biblical discussion that’s not aimed for anyone’s good) – and he surely doesn’t like anyone adding words to the text that aren’t there – the Pharisees argue that Moses “commanded” (19:7) divorce and Jesus rightly reminds them that he “permitted” it (19:8).

But even if divorce is permissible, Jesus reasons, that doesn’t make it good. So now we enter into that important, difficult, and tragic discussion about sin. And I think that Jesus’ reference to the creation story rather than the law is an important one. Jesus’ reminds us that sin is not so much a broken rule but a broken story – a tragic splintering of God's intended relationships: with God, others, ourselves, and all of creation. So I am going to say something now that I suspect might surprise many of you who know me and my story as one who has both divorced and remarried – divorce is sinful. The problem, however, is not that we don’t understand the complex nuances of that word “divorce” but that we too narrowly define that word “sin.” Sin is that tragic brokenness that was not God’s intent – it is that dissolution which was not part of the design. But our evangelical world wants to frame sin in very simplistic ways like “rebellion” and focus on fault, which, ironically, is also in the creation story as an example of what Adam and Eve do. Blame makes sin about rule breaking. Jesus, however, appears to be making a more profound point – Divorce is a sin because marriage wasn’t created for this. Divorce is a sin because, even if you’re not at fault, it wasn’t made to be broken. And if you’ve been divorced or if you are a child of divorce, or have been in a marriage that rightfully had to end because of real neglect or violent and verbal abuse  – you know full well, neither innocence nor rules save you from the horrible pain of its breaking. That’s what I mean by acknowledging its sinfulness. It’s the recognition that God intended for us something much better and who’s at fault fails to solve the problem.

But the story from Genesis is not so much about the institution of marriage but about the creation of men and women in the image of God. And we know what happens – that it’s not the relationship of marriage that gets broken per se but that people become broken. A broken marriage is a sin NOT because the institution is threatened but because God made us to be whole and to delight in wholesome, intimate relationships. We weren’t made to fail each other. 

Jesus point is that in a broken world we should go back to the beginning to remind us about who we were made to be and also who God is. In choosing these texts, it is interesting that Jesus stresses God’s intent and action in defining for us what makes us well and whole – two becoming one, joined. Our joining in unity – a community of mutual love and respect– was to reflect on who God is. This stress upon the “image of God” - might clue us into why Jesus speaks so strongly about divorce.

In the prophetic tradition of the Old Testament (Jeremiah 3, Isaiah 54, Malachi 2, Ezekiel 16, and Hosea), the prophets will deepen the Old Testament’s understanding of God’s covenantal bond by speaking of God’s faithfulness to Israel as a marriage bond, emphasizing God’s grace and lifelong faithfulness despite Israel’s infidelity. I wonder if Jesus speaks so strongly about divorce NOT because he is reinstituting a rigorous bit of case law for us but because he is trying to remind us something fundamental about God. Our sin [adultery] will not destroy God’s covenant faithfulness nor will it have the final word over our fate. Jesus, in other words, is not setting up some rule to be followed at all cost but attempting to illuminate a fundamental character of God. God made us for love and healthy relationships, marriage wasn’t made to be broken, we were meant to reflect God’s faithfulness, but even when we don’t – God will not cease being faithful to us.

But what happens if marriage breaks?

          2.     Jesus provides a place for those who can’t.

There is a certain irony or tension in Jesus’ teaching on marriage, divorce, and celibacy. On the one hand, there is an undeniable fierce kingdom ethic, an ideal that grounds itself firmly in God’s design and character which understands that marriage was made to be an indissovable union that reflects God’s faithful love toward us. But, even as he offers this teaching, challenging the Pharisees’ sole reliance upon Deuteronomy 24 due to their “hard-heartedness.” He also offers three explicit exceptions in this passage related to divorce and remarriage: “except for sexual immorality” (19:9); “not everyone can accept this word . . .” (19:11); and “let the one who is able to accept this accept it” (19:12).

Now I want to point to a bit of NT 101 which is important. Most scholars argue that the earliest gospel is the Gospel of Mark, referred to as “Markan priority.” The basic point is that the writers of Matthew and Luke borrowed heavily from Mark in their own constructions. This is important because our text in Matthew also exists in Mark and comes across in a more strident way with no exception, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”~ Mark 10:11-12.

So Matthew is doing something quite helpful - Matthew is interpreting Jesus for us and we should listen to him. We should always pay attention to places where the Bible interprets itself. Matthew is telling us that Jesus’ position was not a general statement applying to every case, and that the exceptions, the human elements of a broken world, should be acknowledged and wrestled with before applying the principle. And what do we make of the first exception?

What does Matthew mean by “sexual immorality” [porneia]? The term could refer to an array of illicit sexual activity and was not the specific word for “adultery”. The point here is that Matthew intentionally uses a broad, general term which could refer to a range of sexual improprieties which, then, allow for remarriage. We’ve already noted that divorce is bad because marriage was not intended to be broken. However, there is also an implicit moral logic in the text and the creation story that divorce and remarriage might be permitted because God loves us and made us for something more than betrayal, neglect, unfaithfulness, or abuse. And if in these remarks you here a wider space of concessions for divorce that are not explicitly mentioned in the text – well, as a servant of Jesus Christ who looks back at what God intended, that is what I am saying. But always remember that it is often a terrible concession. And for those of you even considering leaving your spouse, remember this – God didn’t make you to leave. God made you to be faithful. God made you to “cling,” Genesis reminds us.

There is also an interesting irony in Jesus’ use of the eunuch, it seems to me, apart from Jesus’ more specific point about celibacy. For Jesus’ audience the language and person of the eunuch would have been quite shocking. A eunuch was someone who, often without his consent, was castrated for some purpose. More importantly, the law clearly stipulated that a eunuch could not become part of the people of God (Deut. 23:1). Despite this, Jesus chose to use such a person as one who follows him “for the sake of the kingdom” (19:12). So there is this odd rub of a challenging ethic coupled with the inclusion and praise of the despised and excluded.

Jesus also uses this very interesting concession: “only to those to whom it has been given” and later “to those who can accept it.” His other teachings, such as forsaking possessions or family to follow him, never include such a qualification. It would seem then that he means that this particular teaching is only for some disciples and not for all while at the same time including those outside of God’s law as his own disciples.

So today, mindful of God’s intent for your life, having been reminded of God’s design for us as image bearers who have been broken by sin – sin not always of our own making, I want to include you as well. Hope and healing can be found. How? Because Jesus himself goes back to the very beginning. I love this picture - it's my favorite. It comes from Chora Church in Istanbul and reflects Jesus' resurrection and redemption of fallen humanity by showing him pulling Adam and Eve out of their graves. He goes back to the beginning to make things right!

Are you divorced? Remarried? Struggling in a difficult marriage? You are welcome here. More than that, you are invited to participate, to pray, to serve, to join, to find healing and hope. O make no mistake, you must allow your own personal story to be judged by the Genesis story of God’s good intent for your life. And this may demand a call to repentance - God knows I had much to repent of myself – but divorce does not place you outside the kingdom’s call. So come and receive the wholeness and healing of a redeemed story today. Let Jesus take you by the hand and lift you up from the grave. Let anyone who can accept this accept this. Amen.