Wisdom: Vindicated, Indicated by Deeds

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

[Jesus said,] “To what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplace, calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you and you would not dance. We wailed and you would not mourn.’ For John the Baptist came, neither eating nor drinking and they said, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man comes, eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look! A glutton and a drunkard. A friend of tax-collectors and sinners.’ And yet, wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

At that time, Jesus said, “I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent, and you have revealed them to infants. Yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things on heaven and earth have been handed over to me by my Father. For no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

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These words from Jesus today seem a little disconnected and strange at first and there are a lot of ways a preacher could preach about this bit from Matthew’s Gospel. I could talk about the fickle ways of faith from those who didn’t like John the Baptist because he wouldn’t eat and drink like the rest of them and those who were suspicious of Jesus because he did eat and drink. They accused him of being a glutton, a drunkard, and a phony, because he hung around with drinkers and jokers, tax collectors and sinners, presumably. Even Jesus, himself, couldn’t please all of the people, all of the time.

And then there’s that stuff at the end, where Jesus welcomes the weary. “Come to me all you who are carrying heavy burdens… Take my yoke upon you… learn from me… I’m gentle… I’m humble of heart… you will find rest for your souls… my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” And I’ve done a whole thing with that before about God’s call and command to Sabbath and rest as a discipline of faith. And, frankly, there’s a lot in the world these days that makes me weary, and tired, and heavy-hearted. And I know that’s true for many of you, too. But, I don’t feel like I have a right to feel as weary or as heavy-hearted or as burdened as so many others do, in our world, these days.

So this time around, I couldn’t stop wondering about how Jesus talks about the infants. He says, “I thank you, Father, for you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent, and have revealed them to infants.” God has hidden something very important from the wise and the intelligent and, by God’s strange, gracious, holy will, these important things have instead been revealed to the likes of infants.

As far as I’m concerned, all of that is just another way of saying what we’ve heard from Jesus many times before: that God chooses the least among us – the weak, the needy, the humble, and the small – to receive and to share, to bless and to be blessed by the grace and Good News revealed in Jesus Christ.

And all of that means Jesus wasn’t really, only talking about “infants.” It means “infants” was just one way of suggesting, once again, that the “least of these;” the last, not the first; the power-less, not the power-full; are the ones in the world for whom God’s Good News comes first and foremost and can be received most loudly and clearly and purely and faithfully. Which means, too, then, that that same Good News can be hard to hear – hidden, even – from the wise and the intelligent; hidden from the “first;” hidden from the powerful; hidden from the more fortunate, more often than not.

Which means, I think, many of us – myself included – are missing more than we realize – more than we would like to – and more than God would hope for us – when it comes to wrapping our heads and our hearts around the fullness of God’s grace and good news for the sake of the world, because our “wisdom and intelligence,” our status and privilege (to use the buzz word of the day) – and the abundance and wealth that go along with that – hide the fullness of that Good News from us so much of the time.

To try to show you what I mean, I cobbled together some passages from Scripture, the meaning of which might be hidden from those of us who live in a more safe, stable reality compared to so many others in the rest of the world; passages that speak differently to the proverbial “infants” of the world than they do to the “wise and intelligent” ones to whom Jesus refers.

For example, the Exodus story of the Israelite’s release from slavery in Egypt would be received with a different kind of hope by African-American slaves in the earliest days of our nation, than it could possibly have been received by their more privileged and powerful, supposedly “wise and intelligent” slave owners, right?

The slave owner might wonder why God had been so harsh as to harden Pharaoh’s heart and destroy the first-born. The slave might rejoice at and hope in the Hebrews’ deliverance, at all costs, from the same oppression and suffering and death he suffered.

And think about how someone in war-torn Afghanistan this morning might hear Psalm 46:

“God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.”

That must come with a measure of hope – or maybe even impatience and frustration – that you and I can only guess about.

Imagine what Isaiah’s prophecy to bring release to the captives and freedom to the oppressed has to say to the millions of refugees displaced and homeless, all over the continent of Africa. Imagine what those same promises of release and freedom would mean to a young girl being controlled and trafficked right here in our own country.

How differently does my friend Madame Jean, in Fondwa, Haiti – a widow, raising her orphaned granddaughter in the poorest country in the western hemisphere – find hope, if not some righteous anger and frustration, in God’s charge for faithful people to care for the widow and the fatherless?

I can’t help but wonder what the men we worship with up at the Pendleton Correctional Facility think when they hear Jesus’ invitation to us, in Matthew 25, to visit the prisoner – and that when we do, it’s as if we are visiting with Jesus, himself.

How would the family of Breonna Taylor, who was shot 8 times and killed by police in the middle of the night while sleeping in her own bed, in her own home, for having done absolutely nothing wrong? – how must they – or any parent who has lost a child, for that matter – hear and pray and cry the words of Psalm 121 – “I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where will my help come?”

I could go on. And, please don’t misunderstand me. These words and promises – this Good News – from Scripture has meaning and depth and hope and promise for each of us in our own ways, too, at various times in our lives.

But what I’m challenged by this morning is Jesus’ reminder that we have a lot to learn from so many of God’s children who live and suffer and struggle and survive and hope and persist in this world - in ways and under circumstances most of us are blessed only to imagine. In so many cases, we are the “wise and the intelligent,” in Jesus’ comparison this morning and so much is hidden from our sight, because we are blinded by our own privilege and our own abundance and our own safety and security – and that is a hard truth to hear.

But there is hope … so much hope here. Because Jesus says that wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds, people! And I like to say that real wisdom, true wisdom, faithful wisdom and understanding is not only vindicated by her deeds, it is indicated by our deeds whenever we respond with faith and love and generosity and service and humility and sacrifice on behalf of the struggle and suffering that surrounds us in this world.

If we use our holy imagination… if we could read our Bibles and hear God’s Good News from the perspective of the last and the least out there in the world – and then respond to what we know with a greater measure of the grace that is already ours…

If we use the wisdom and the intellect, the power and privilege with which we have been blessed – our own eyes will be opened; our own hearts will be set free; our own hope will be stoked for the benefit of the world around us so that the last will be first; so that the oppressed will be set free; so that the lost will be found; the blind will see; the lonely will be comforted; the hungry filled; and all of God’s children will find rest and peace and hope and new life – together – under the loving yoke of God’s grace and mercy and justice and joy, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen

Cold Water and Warm, Wide Welcome

Matthew 10:40-42

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

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These three little verses of Matthew’s Gospel seem a little out of context, all on their own – plucked as they are from Chapter 10, I mean. So, before we get to the point of it, I feel like we need to back up and set the stage, some.

Up until this moment in the 10th Chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has been laying out the details for his disciples about their job description. He’s been preparing them to hit the road and to get about the work of preaching and teaching and sharing the Good News. He’s already given them authority over unclean spirits, you might remember. He’s already charged them with casting out demons and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. He’s told them to announce that, “The kingdom of God has come near.” He’s instructed them about how to dress, even. And he’s told them where to go, with whom they should stay, and what they should be wary of out there in the world.

And a lot of what they can expect isn’t pretty, to be honest. Just before what we heard this morning, Jesus warns his disciples about that, by telling them:

“… I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of them, for they will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will be dragged before governors and kings because of me … Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all because of my name…”

So it doesn’t sound like such a great gig, being one of those first disciples. Hitting the streets with the Word of God. Knocking on doors to share the Good News of the Kingdom. Preaching the Gospel. Teaching about God. Healing the sick.  Inviting yourself into the hearts and lives of people who may or may not want anything at all to do with what you’re up to.

And I kind of wonder, with all of these marching orders, if Jesus doesn’t have an ulterior motive.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course, I’m sure Jesus wanted the dead to be raised and the sick to be cured and the good news to be preached and all of that. But I wonder, too, if the whole point of sending the disciples out into the world that way – with all of those rules and expectations and warning, even – was so that those first disciples, those rookie believers, could get a feel for what it’s like to be on the other side of the door, looking to be welcomed themselves, hoping to be heard themselves, longing to be received themselves, by whoever would have them.

See, even though they were new to all of this, they were insiders to a movement that was about to take off in a big way. And they were insiders who’d just been given tremendous responsibilities and unbelievable authority – to cure the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons; preach, teach, and forgive, remember. That’s the sort of stuff that might go to a person’s head, don’t you think? It’s the sort of stuff that’s so good…  it’s the kind of power that’s so mighty…  it’s a grace so amazing, it might make a person – or a people – lazy or entitled or stingy with the good stuff, if they aren’t careful.

For instance, a disciple might want to stay put, after a while, and let the sick come to his house for a cure. Or a disciple might want to hang a sign out front with office hours during which time demons might be exorcised. A disciple might think the forgiveness of sins should take place, conveniently, in large groups, at, say, 8:30 or 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Or, a rookie disciple might think this grace of God stuff is so good it will sell itself once word gets out – and if people don’t show up, if they don’t bend over backwards to receive it, it would be their loss, not the disciples’ problem.

But this morning, Jesus also says, “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” On top of all the rest, Jesus means to raise up gracious, generous, selfless, humble, hospitable, welcoming disciples. “…whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones…”

I read an article this week about how the Catholic Archdiocese of Indianapolis issued some new guidelines warning that transgender kids may not be allowed to enroll in their schools. Apparently, there’s an eight-page document called “Policy and Complementary Norms on Sexual Identity in School Ministries,” that means to offer guidance about how to deal with students who have sexual identity or gender identity experiences that vary from what is “typical” according to the average bear and according to “traditional” church teaching.

Specifically, and admittedly in a very incomplete nutshell, from what I can tell, kids are welcome to attend school, even if they identify somewhere outside of the “typical,” “traditional” norm and expectation of the church, but once a student does something to legally change their gender identity from their biological sex, or once they physically alter their given biology, they may no longer be allowed to enroll.

But, “… whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple — truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Now, I don’t mean to pick on our Catholic sisters and brothers. We are all in the same boat as Christian believers. They were just in the news this week. We Lutherans have been down similar roads before. In fact, I was contacted this week about a rumor that an educator at a local Lutheran school was fired for the “immorality” of being gay. And it’s not all about sexuality, either, of course. I got an e-mail not long ago from a friend of a friend who told me she wanted to be part of a church, but that she’d screwed up so many times in so many ways – that she was such a prolific sinner according to her family and as far as any faith community she’d ever known was concerned – that she was anxious and scared to even set foot inside the doors of a church. (You’d be surprised how many people out there in the world make that kind of confession once they find out I’m a pastor.)

Anyway, all of this reminds me about how stingy we can be with the good stuff of God’s grace. And, because of it, I’m afraid, too many churches in the world are known more for who they don’t welcome than for everyone that they do – or should be sharing cups of cold water with, as Jesus puts it.

And, what struck me about all of this, this time around, is that there were no eight-page documents of policy and procedure when Jesus sent those first disciples out into the world. And if there had been, it would have had more to do with the disciples than it would with those whom they were trying to reach with God’s grace and good news.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me …and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple — truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

We are insiders to God’s movement of grace in the world, you and I. As far as I can tell, most of us gathered here have been welcomed – into a community of faith, into a family of believers, at the waters of baptism and to the table of forgiveness – and we know the blessing of that welcome. (If none of that feels true for you, yet. I’m especially glad you’re hearing this today. I hope it sounds like an invitation to the love of God in a way you’ve never felt it before.)

See, I think, like those first disciples, we’re to be reminded about what that sort of grace and welcome feels like – what that kind of mercy and forgiveness and love means for us – so that we are sent out into the world around us, offering it up like so many cups of cold water – to thirsty pilgrims wherever we can find them, at all costs – to anyone and everyone who hasn’t been welcomed or received or listened to or loved, just yet, in the name of Jesus Christ.

Amen