Human-Shaped Hope

Mark:13:24-37

“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light. The stars will be falling from heaven and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send the angels to gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

“From the fig tree learn its lesson. When you see its branches become tender and begin to put forth leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things begin to take place you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all of these things take place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“But about that day and hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware; keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man, going on a journey, who puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know when the master of the house will return, in the evening, at midnight, at cock-crow, or at dawn, or else he might find you sleeping when he comes, suddenly. Therefore, what I say to you, I say to all, ‘Keep awake.’”

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I don’t think Jesus is coming back any time soon. I’m not sure if it’s more or less faithful to say that, but it’s how I feel and how I live much more often than not.

I had a seminary professor who claimed to love a cloudy day because he liked to look up and watch for Jesus to show up from behind the next cloud, at any given moment, like this Gospel reading suggests. He was – and I imagine, still is – one of the smartest Bible scholars I’ve known. He was – and I imagine, still is a level-headed, rational, wise, and faithful believer, too. And I imagine he’s still waiting on a cloudy day and watching for Jesus. More power to him, but I’m not that guy. And more on that in moment…

I don’t know how much is too much news to consume about the hostages in Israel and Gaza, but I suspect I’ve seen more than my fair share. I can’t fathom the fear of being held captive, in the dark, in those underground tunnels. I can’t grasp the anxiety of the loved ones who wait and worry and wring their hands for the next list to be announced and for their loved ones to come home.

And, even more, I can’t stop thinking about the kids. The infant boy who was still nursing when he was taken. The four-year-old girl who finally made it home – but only to her aunts, uncles and siblings, because her parents were both killed; and not really “home” because the house she lived in was destroyed and no longer exists.

But the one who gets me most is the 9-year-old little girl, named Emily, whose father was told had died very early on in the attacks, news for which he claimed to be grateful and relieved – because he believed her fate and suffering would have been worse as a hostage all of this time. It turns out she wasn’t killed, after all, and she made it out alive. But when she was returned to her dad, she would or could only whisper. For fear … or because of the demands of her captors over the course of her captivity … or probably both … this little girl couldn’t or wouldn’t speak in her normal voice. Her dad had to put his lips to her ears to hear anything she wanted to say. And the sadness and fear in his own voice as he described that was heartbreaking and terrifying in its own way.

So, I wondered what this Gospel reading might sound like to one of those hostages and to their family members.

“In those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light. The stars will be falling from heaven and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”

I wondered that because, this has always sounded like bad news to me … the sun extinguished … the moon dead … the stars falling like shrapnel … the heavens trembling.

But what struck me this time around in a new way, is the hope I wonder if Jesus intended by promising all of it, “In those days, after that suffering…” I wonder if those hostages – or anyone in a similarly desperate, terrifying, sufferable set of circumstances – would see a kind of hope in this, instead of the fear with which these apocalyptic passages are so often received. “In those days, after that suffering…”

See, I realize … and I need to remind myself … that I’ve lived a pretty selfish, self-centered, seemingly self-sufficient life for the most part. Most of the suffering I’ve experienced has been by proxy … alongside others … prayerfully and with, but not IN the depths of the suffering and despair I know others have known, and know as we sit here today.

Of course the hostages in Gaza and the prisoners in Israel – and the war and desolation, the destruction and despair connected with all of that – is one thing.

And there are so many other peoples and places consumed by suffering I feel like I can only watch from a distance, imagine, and pray about.

And I think about the devastating losses in our own community in just the last couple of weeks, too. The tragic, senseless, unnecessary, accidental death of young, beautiful lives full of so much potential and promise – like Lindsay Locker and Evan Neumeister – and what their families and friends suffer, still.

And I think about others we know and have loved who’ve suffered long illnesses – surgeries, medical treatments, mental decline, physical difficulty, chronic pain and all the rest. And the husbands and wives and families who have loved and suffered – and continue to love and suffer – with them through it all.

And, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a contest. Our suffering is relative and we don’t need to minimize our own hardship and struggle because it’s not as bad as, or because it doesn’t measure up to, what others endure. The hope Jesus offers here is for all of us because the truth is we will all suffer in some way, at some point, and that Truth just becomes clearer the more time you spend on the planet and the more you pay attention.

Whatever the case, Jesus’ words today are meant to be a promise, not a threat, and I hope you hear them that way for a change, if you never have before – especially if you’re in the throes of some kind of suffering or grief or struggle at the moment.

Because listen carefully and remember... Jesus says, “in those days… after that suffering…” I think it means something better is on the way. It means that there’s an “after” to whatever suffering plagues you and surrounds us all.

And I think that’s also why Jesus says, “Beware … Keep alert … Stay awake … Go about your business … Live your life…” because you never know when God’s hope will show up in your midst – and you don’t want to miss it. Yeah, it may be this apocalyptic, second-coming sort of stuff, where the clouds part, the thunder rolls, and Jesus shows up like a Marvel super-hero with his band of angels to save the day.

But, in the meantime, it might also be as close and as simple and as quiet and as slow-moving as a fig tree, too, becoming tender, putting forth leaves, bearing fruit, and signaling that something better is on the way.

Beware… Keep alert… Stay awake… it may be as close and as simple and as quiet as a meal from a church member. Or a text from a friend. Or a prayer from your Pastor. A drink with a buddy, that look in your kid’s eyes, a hand from your partner.

And that’s why I’m not staring up at the sky, looking behind the next cloud, for a super-hero to save the day. I’m trying to find this hope, this presence, the nearness of God, in the eyes and hands and hearts of the people around me. And I’m trying to find it in the mirror more often, too … because these Advent days remind us that God comes in the shape of a person, after all… full of grace and truth ... never promising there will be no pain, no suffering, no struggle, no hardship in our lives … but showing up precisely because there has been, is, and will be all of those things too much of the time.

But there is beauty, too. And there is mercy, in this mess. And there is love. And hope. And plenty of reason to look for and to be those things, for ourselves, for each other, and for the sake of the world.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Talents, Treasures, and Truth to Power

Matthew 25:14-30

“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away.

The one who had received the five talents, went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.

After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ His master replied, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’

Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest.

So, take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

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Last week, I talked about how – in that parable about the ten bridesmaids who get locked out of the wedding banquet – it is okay and even faithful to see the bouncer at the door – the one who locks them out of the banquet – as someone other than Jesus. That’s a new, different, surprising take on a familiar teaching for some. This morning, then, is a variation on a theme because today’s parable may not be what we’re used to seeing on its surface, either.

First of all, smarter people than me point out that this isn’t what they call a “kingdom parable,” which just means it’s one of those parables Jesus tells that doesn’t begin with the phrase, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like…” And that’s good news because it is one of those parables that ends with “outer darkness,” “weeping,” and “gnashing of teeth.” So, just like it didn’t fit or feel right last week that Jesus would be the one behind the door, keeping others from entering the feast of God’s kingdom, it NEVER feels quite right to see the God we know in Jesus as the one who throws people into the gnashing teeth of the outer darkness.

So this may invite us to wonder, contrary to the expectations and assumptions of many people – and maybe contrary to the way we’re used to reading this parable – if the slaveholding Master in today’s parable doesn’t have to be a stand-in for the God we know in Jesus, either.

AND, we’re left to wonder then, if Jesus’ parable isn’t painting a picture of God’s kingdom then he must be painting a picture of something else – like the world as he understood it to be and as it was for those who were listening to him. And, by extension, unfortunately, the world as it still is for you and me. Which is to say, as we look to find ourselves in the middle of this one, it means Jesus seems to be railing against the ways of the world, and of our misuse of, reliance on, and love for … money.

See, if the Master in today’s story isn’t meant to be a stand-in for God or Jesus, it means he’s just some guy. And he’s a mean, selfish, abusive, greedy one at that. And it changes everything, once we’re allowed to consider him that way. It means that the slaves who please him aren’t necessarily to be commended, they’re to be questioned, if not pitied, even. Yes, they take his money and make more of it, but it was likely by unfair, unfaithful means – and everyone listening in Jesus’ day would have known or assumed that. And those first two slaves may have acted out of fear as much as anything else, knowing what we know happens to the third slave who let the Master down.

See, the truth about society and the cultural norm in Jesus’ day – especially for the faithful, Jewish peasant – was that people weren’t upwardly mobile capitalists, like you and I are trained to be.

Whereas we are inclined to look at these first two slaves who doubled their master’s money with admiration and a pat on the back, Jesus and his listeners would have looked at them with suspicion and judgment – maybe for defrauding someone or lending money with interest, like some sort of tax collector. (We know how people felt about their local tax collector, right?) The Old Testament scripture of Jesus’ faith, after all, is full of warnings and prohibitions against storing up more than you can use, lending money for interest, and the like, so there would have been questions. Maybe, those listening to Jesus would have simply questioned the motivation of any slave to line the pockets of their enslaver just to make their way into his good pleasure.

Because if this isn’t a “kingdom parable,” these slaves who “enter into the joy of their master” weren’t entering into the joy of the God, made known in Jesus. They were entering into the joy of someone more like Don Corleone, or Tony Soprano, or Omar Navarro. The Master in Jesus’ story might have been seen as a money-grubbing swindler who sends others to do his dirty work; this enslaver who reaps where he doesn’t sow and who gathers where he doesn’t scatter seed. And, remember, for their work in the end, these first two slaves were still slaves, after all, being put in charge of more dealings and dirty work that would have made their fellow slaves and the average, law-abiding Jewish peasant cringe.

And all of this means that the poor sap who buried the money… the one who didn’t invest wisely… who didn’t make more of what he’d been given… who didn’t do his Master’s bidding… who ends up cast into the outer darkness with all of that weeping and gnashing of teeth… is actually the hero of Jesus’ story.

This slave bucks the system, as it were. He’s a revolutionary rebel. We can imagine him standing up to the Master, with some measure of fear and trembling, and refusing to play the mob-boss’ game. He buries his money in the ground rather than try to make more of it by cheating others, by charging interest, or by otherwise growing that kind of wealth just for the sake of growing wealth, or adding to his Master’s capacity to continue enslaving and oppressing his subjects. And he returns to the Master the same, singular, measly, dust-and-dirt-covered talent he was given, perhaps balanced or spinning on the tip of his middle finger, if you know what I mean.

So, what does this have to do with you and me and Cross of Grace and with our lives as followers of Jesus in the world as we know it?

If we understand the parable this way, we see Jesus – not as painting a picture of God’s kingdom where dirty deeds, done dirt cheap are praised and rewarded in heaven. But we see this parable as an indictment of the way too much of the world was and is for so many. In that last slave – the one who gets thrown into the outer darkness? – Jesus may even be painting a picture of just what’s about to happen to him soon enough, when he refuses to play the game of the religious and political masters; when he, himself, is handed over to the outer darkness of the cross and crucified.

And here, then, is our hope and invitation. We are called, as always, to live more like Jesus. When we talk and pray and invite one another to use our money for the good of God’s church in the world, for the sake of the kingdom among us, we are doing nothing more and nothing less than challenging the ways of the world as we know it. We are standing up for generosity in the face of greed. We are choosing to be faithful instead of fearful with our resources.

Wednesday night, many of us heard from Charla Yearwood at the first event, put together by our newly-minted “Racial Justice Team.” As part of that, Charla talked about the inescapable, “normal” of whiteness in our world. She talked about how those in power generations ago began to set the standard for the way the rest of the world operates, still. This is true when it comes to everything from fashion, to academia, to politics, to church, even, as we understand and experience it. And it’s also true where the economics of capitalism are concerned.

A few of us were talking after Charla’s presentation, about how inescapable the ways of capitalism are in our lives and work in the world – especially in this country. How, in order to succeed, by the world’s standards, we have to abide by the rules and follow the ways and live up to the expectations of the capitalist culture in which we live. That’s impossible to deny and I’m such a product of it, I’m not sure it’s always bad. And I can see that it’s so deep and wide and woven into the fabric of our lives and culture and economy that it’s inescapable, even if we wanted to get away from it.

…except for here, in our life together as Christians in the Church and in this place … as believers … as followers of The Way and the ways of Jesus …

And I think that’s something like what we learn from the third enslaved person in Jesus’ parable. That we don’t have to follow all of the rules all of the time. That we don’t have to play the game at every turn. That we can buck the system – refuse to do “The Master’s” bidding – in the name of grace and mercy and equity; generosity, sacrifice, justice and love.

When we give our money away for the work of God’s Church in the world, it is counter-cultural. When we give to others with no strings attached – not expecting a return on our investment or an increase in principle – we rebel against the greed that surrounds us. When we do the math and decide to give a significant portion of our income to the work of God in the world – through church and charity; for the sake of philanthropy and fun, even – we bring the Kingdom to life, like Jesus did.

This is hard, holy work, for sure. But it’s why faithful stewardship, being mindful about our money, and using it as a tool for spiritual growth, are one of the greatest gifts of the church in the world and one of our greatest blessings as disciples. Our offerings are nothing more and nothing less than a spiritual practice that speaks truth to power – if/when we use it that way.

I hope we see the use of our money – especially the ways we are called to give it away – as a way of being freed from the Master that money and greed want to be in our lives. And I believe that when we give – with gratitude for what is already ours – we will be filled with the joy of a different Master – that we’ll be filled with the joy of the Master of grace and mercy and peace and new life – that really is Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen