The Future Beyond the End
The church year rehearses the history of God’s relationship with his people — from the anticipation of the Messiah during Advent, through Jesus’ incarnation, ministry, crucifixion, and resurrection. The church celebrates Pentecost and calls her members to discipleship. Finally, the church year ends with Christ the King Sunday, an acknowledgement of something that has not happened yet. We move from past history into future history and name Christ the King of all, even as we wait in a world that seldom behaves like Christ’s kingdom. The Sunday after that will begin the year again with the First Sunday in Advent. The end leads into the beginning.
There is a rabbinic tradition that observes the last letter in the Hebrew Torah is a lamed and the first letter in the Torah is a bet. If one joins the end with the beginning, the letters lamed bet spell the Hebrew word for “heart.” The end leads into the beginning and they are joined together with the heart. In the same way, the unending cycle of the church year is joined by the anticipation of Christ the King, leading into the anticipation of Advent.
All Saints Day
November 1, 2007
Dan 7:1–3,15–18; Lk 6:20–31
The festival of All Saints Day originated, sometime in the fourth century, as the Feast of All Martyrs. The celebration moved around the calendar until the eighth century when Pope Gregory III consecrated a new chapel in the Basilica of St. Peter on November 1 and fixed the date of the feast.
All Saints Day is celebrated throughout Christendom, but there is no unanimity on exactly what is being celebrated. What a Christian emphasizes on this festival can be used as a Rorschach test to determine where that Christian stands in the venerable ”sanctified” versus “justified” debate. (To oversimplify two thousand years’ worth of controversy: Those who emphasize sanctification say saints get to be called saints because they act like saints. The justification camp contends that God loves people, which makes them saints — and since they are saints, they act that way. Both groups agree that God loves people and that people should have saintly lives. The fact that this discussion has generated as much acrimony as it has indicates that Satan is more interested in the discussion of saints than one would have thought.)
On November 1, those who define saints as people who are sanctified look back at the history of the church and celebrate those saints who have lived holy lives, provided examples, and left us later generations with a church that can continue to serve God. Those who view sainthood in terms of justification look forward to living as the saints God has made them to be. They emphasize the “All” in All Saints Day and define a saint as anyone for whom Christ has died — a long list, indeed.
A complete celebration will join the two emphases. It will celebrate the history of those who have gone before and will commission today’s saints to recognize their sainthood and use it in the service of the church.
The readings from Daniel and Luke are both fantastic visions. Daniel writes of four great beasts coming out of the sea; Luke records Jesus’ words of the downcast and oppressed receiving justice. Neither scenario is common in everyday life. By nature, visions look to the future.
An attendant interprets Daniel’s vision and tells him the four beasts represent four kings. The kings will “arise out of the earth. But the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever — forever and ever.” It is noteworthy that the kings come out of the earth, but the power to give the kingdom is from the Most High. Living in the kingdom and permanence are God’s to give; they are not determined by the identity of the kings.
The Hebrew word translated “holy ones” in verse 18 is a variation of kaddish, which is also the name of the prayer of mourners who remember their dead loved ones. Remembrance of dead loved ones is a long-standing theme of All Saints Day.
Luke’s version of the Beatitudes carries the same message as Daniel’s vision. It contrasts those who are thought to be powerful with those who have primacy in God’s kingdom. It is the poor, the hungry, and the grieving who will be “blessed” by God. Moreover, God’s favor is not just descriptive; it empowers people to live for God in the future.
The Greek word that is often translated “blessed” is markarioi. In Faith, Formation, and Decision, James M. Childs suggests that the translation could be “congratulations.” Saints are not only named with the word markarioi, but they are also commissioned and energized to live their sainthood. Jesus’ first-century audience would have been just as skeptical as modern congregations about any claims for their personal holiness, but Jesus’ promise is hope for what God’s people can become. To emphasize the future-orientation of sainthood, Jesus follows his words of congratulations with a greatest hits list of instructions for living like a saint, including turning the other cheek and practicing the Golden Rule. Life as a saint of God is more than a title; it is God’s promise of what we can become.
Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost
November 4, 2007
Isa 1:10–18; Lk 19:1–10
The scriptures for today address the rulers of Sodom, the people of Gomorrah, and a tax collector from Jericho. Clearly, God will take the opportunity to call for change.
God declares his indignation through Isaiah; and rather than theft, violence, or laziness, his indignation is focused on worship practices. Isaiah condemns sacrifices, offerings, worship assemblies, prayers, and festivals that come “with iniquity” (v 13). Sodom and Gomorrah are used as symbols of the people’s egregious sin (spectacularly dealt with in Genesis 19); Isaiah’s audience could not have been pleased with the analogy. Yet when he calls for change, Isaiah does not suggest worship reform; he wants acts of justice. After the transitional demand to “wash yourselves; make yourselves clean,” Isaiah leaves the subject of people’s ostensible worship habits and directs them to a life of righteousness that will be marked by rescuing the oppressed, defending the orphan, and pleading for the widow. Isaiah calls God’s people to change with the well-loved words of grace that promise, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they will be like snow.”
A broken relationship with God is not the final ruling. Isaiah speaks words of hope that will be enacted in the righteousness of God’s people.
The theme of conspicuous wickedness turning into selfless acts of virtue continues in the account of Zacchaeus. This story, found exclusively in Luke, reflects Luke’s well-known disapproval of the rich. The finality of Luke’s description (“he was a chief tax collector and was rich”) leaves no doubt that only the grace of Jesus could reach Zacchaeus. The tax collector of Jericho went to some lengths (in this case, heights) to get a look at Jesus. We are not told what motivated him to climb the sycamore tree except that he wanted to see the holy man, and Jesus used the opportunity to single him out as a person to spend time with. Jesus did not suggest an agenda for their time together; he did not make his visit contingent upon Zacchaeus’s repentance or commitment. Indeed, Jesus’ promiscuous approach to his housing arrangements drew the censure of those who witnessed the scene. Meanwhile, Zacchaeus was making plans for the new life that had been opened to him by Jesus’ recognition.
The people in the crowd could have recounted Zacchaeus’s history and his sins. They likely spent quite a bit of time doing exactly that. But salvation is not a matter of being able to describe how things have been or how they are. Salvation is hope for how things can be. Jesus told Zacchaeus, “Today salvation has come to this house.” No one would have suggested that the tax collector’s past had accomplished enough to earn God’s grace. In the presence of Jesus, he turned to a future that could be empowered by God’s grace.
Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost
November 11, 2007
Job 19:23–27a; Lk 20:27–38
Today’s readings chronicle the search for permanence in the face of contrary evidence. In the first lesson, Job gives a vivid description of the temporary nature of both relationships and health. In the gospel reading, Sadducees try to paint a picture of eternal life that is so ridiculous that Jesus will have to admit that the idea is a fantasy. Both Job and Jesus speak words of faith that have been sources of strength for God’s people over countless generations.
In verses 19 and 20, just before today’s reading, Job expresses something understandable, yet oxymoronic: “All my intimate friends abhor me.” His account of his physical well-being is no better: “My bones cling to my skin and to my flesh.” The saying “I have escaped by the skin of my teeth” is a biblical phrase that has enriched our language through common usage — and it has never described security. Confronted with the transience of his friends and of his body, Job seeks permanence in recording his words “engraved on a rock,” proclaiming, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth.”
The word translated “redeemer” is the Hebrew term for the next of kin who would have a right to buy a dead person’s estate under Levitical law, thus continuing the deceased person’s name after his death. In Exodus 6:6 God describes himself with the term when he promises to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, and Moses identifies God with the word in Exodus 15:13 immediately after crossing the Red Sea.
Tormented with his legendary afflictions, Job is nevertheless confident that he will endure because of his relationship with his redeemer. Job’s confidence has been recorded in the opening aria of part 3 of Handel’s Messiah as a soprano sings,“I know that my Redeemer liveth.” The eighteenth-century lyricist Samuel Medley made the phrase the basis of a classic hymn. Job does not despair because of the limitations of his span of life; he finds permanence in the presence of God.
The gospel reading presents the recurring scenario of Jesus’ enemies trying to trap him with clever questioning. In this case, some Sadducees try to make Jesus admit there is no life after death by posing a case in which a woman’s husband dies. According to Levitical law (the same law that gives us the word “redeemer” in the passage from Job) the dead man’s brother has a responsibility to marry the widow. In this case the second brother also died and passed the responsibility on to the third, and the pattern repeated itself until the woman had been widowed seven times. The question was: If there is life after death, who would she be married to in eternity?
Jesus seems remarkably cavalier on the subject of marriage. He says that marriage is for those “who belong to this age” but is not a part of life on the other side of the resurrection. He defends the idea of the resurrection, not with the analogy of marriage, but with the words of God himself. He quotes God speaking to Moses from the burning bush when he identified himself as the God of the patriarchs. Jesus noted that God could not be the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob if their relationship had been ended by death.
The Sadducees did not value the idea of resurrection because they deemed it irrelevant to their lives. Even their hypothetical question on the subject dealt with what happened after life was over. Jesus said God is “God … of the living.” The power of God transcends relationships, physical health, and even death. Job is just one of the communion of saints to whom Jesus is referring with the words “for to him all of them are alive.”
Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost
November 18, 2007
Mal 4:1–2a; Lk 21:5–19
The theme of God’s future continues as Malachi and Jesus give voice to the promise of eternal authority. Descriptions of divine judgment can be misused in a variety of ways. Over the years many self-appointed authorities have referred to scriptures like these from Malachi and Luke while predicting when time would end, and the predictions would often include a list of who would be punished. Indeed, in today’s lesson from Luke, Jesus cautions his listeners, “Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and, ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.” Despite Jesus’ warning, depictions of disaster — natural or manufactured — have long been used to threaten dissenters and frighten the credulous.
Because apocalyptic sections of the Bible have sometimes been mistreated, responsible people of God have often been reluctant to use them and proclaim their empowering message of God’s dominion. However, there is no more liberating message than the announcement that the God of all grace is in charge of creation.
Malachi delivers this message at the conclusion of an oracle in which he encourages the people to trust God. Although the community includes those who appear to prosper and escape God’s wrath, nevertheless Malachi promises that God will preserve those who serve him. On the other hand, Malachi pronounces the judgment of God with the words of today’s first lesson. He depicts a purifying fire that brings to nothing those that seem so secure. But Malachi is never far from a word of hope. He promises righteousness and healing for those who are faithful.
Luke records Jesus’ words making clear that there is no permanence in the temple building, the political order, or even nature. Only God is trustworthy. When Luke records that Jesus saw persecution by political leaders as an opportunity to testify for the gospel and promised to “give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict,” he is sounding a theme that he repeats in the second chapter of Acts — Jesus’ followers will be given divine speech to proclaim the irrefutable authority of God. In the face of trials and at the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost it is God who establishes and preserves his church.
Thanksgiving Day
November 22, 2007
Deut 26:1–11; Jn 6:25–35
It may be because of the way we teach children to say “thank you” as an obligation of manners, but for whatever reason, our society has come to regard giving thanks as a way to conclude a transaction. When a gift is received the recipient should say, “thank you,” thus ending the matter. Gratitude is a worthy sentiment but it seems to be oriented toward what has already happened. It doesn’t provide direction for the future.
A worship service dedicated to giving thanks to God can be troubled by the same attitude. There may be a tendency to focus exclusively on the blessings God has given in the past, and because those blessings are distractingly plentiful, worshipers may forget that saying “thank you” in such a way concludes a relationship they don’t want to end.
Time takes on a peculiar shape in the two scripture readings assigned for the Day of Thanksgiving. They both refer to momentous events that took place earlier. They both carry instructions for God’s people to understand the past events. And they both promise that the relationship established by the past events will continue into the time to come. God’s people are to make his blessings part of their past, present, and future.
The first reading, from Deuteronomy, provides an ancient liturgy for a very early thanksgiving service. At harvest time the people of God are to take some of their crop to a place of worship and remind themselves of how that crop came to be. They are to repeat what God has given them: liberation from slavery in Egypt and possession of the land God promised. The words of this recitation have been identified as among the oldest in Scripture.
The Exodus is the central act of God’s saving grace in the Hebrew scriptures. From the presentation of the Ten Commandments, through the forty years of wandering, through the habitation of the Promised Land, through the time of the kings and the pronouncements of the prophets, God continually identifies himself by that event. “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” In the same way, God’s people are to identify themselves by God’s act of salvation. This ancient creed recounts historical events; it does not express individual beliefs. The Chosen People are instructed to remember the Exodus, to live as people who were liberated by the Exodus, and to continue to trust God who proved his faithfulness in the Exodus.
In the Gospel reading from John, Jesus also refers back to an earlier significant event — but he uses the opportunity to tell his listeners they missed the point. Jesus knew his followers had been impressed when he fed five thousand with a little bread and a few fish, but they followed Jesus because they liked having enough to eat, not because they understood that Jesus brought God into their lives. They could still identify the events of the Exodus; they told Jesus, “Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness.” But Jesus pointed out they had reduced their relationship with God to a one-time event in the past. He told them, “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.” Notice that Jesus switches from the past tense when talking about Moses to the present tense when promising an ongoing relationship with God.
Jesus calls his disciples to understand the true significance of this miracle with the loaves and fishes. It was more than a one-time opportunity to eat. God’s grace through Jesus can continue to nourish and sustain people of faith. He calls himself “the bread of life” and promises that a relationship with him will never leave us hungry.
The assurance of Jesus to give “life to the world” finally provides an adequate basis for gratitude. It is far more than an opportunity to say “thank you” as the fulfillment of an obligation. It is inspiration to take the freely given grace of God and carry it into the future. It is not a conclusion; it is a promise.
Christ the King Sunday
November 25, 2007
Jer 23:1–6; Lk 23:33–43
This is the last Sunday of the liturgical calendar, and Christians celebrate what we believe about the end of time. Christ is recognized as King. Although most modern people, particularly North Americans, are unfamiliar with the practical impact of being ruled by a king, the title of Christ the King is completely appropriate. A ruler has authority and no requirement to justify his decisions. A king’s decisions, no matter how arbitrary, are accepted by his people because his sovereignty provides order and stability.
While there are obvious drawbacks to such an arrangement if the king in question is a human, when Christians call Christ our King we welcome his unquestioned authority, enigmatic decisions, and mysterious grace.
As always, the church must be mindful that the authority of our King is not to be confused with military power or coercion. Christ’s sovereignty is identified with the King demanding what he wants, and Christ makes it clear that his supreme desire is to bring God’s love into the lives of his people. Our King does not deign to explain or justify his desire and he does not have a history of patience with those who would question his motivations. He announces his love for us, and his will is carried out wherever he rules.
Both of the scriptures for the day describe God’s kingdom in surprising ways. The prophet Jeremiah speaks of leaders as both shepherds and kings. The Gospel of Luke records that Jesus was addressed as a king while he was being executed as an enemy of the state. In both cases, the authority of the king comes from God and is to be used for the benefit of God’s people.
Jeremiah proclaims three oracles in rapid succession. He announces that shepherds who have scattered God’s flock will be attended to by God himself. He promises that the sheep will be restored to their fold where good shepherds will keep them without fear or loss. Jeremiah then moves from the metaphor of shepherds to the title of king and promises that a descendant of David (“a righteous Branch”) will rule wisely. Again, the promise looks forward. Under the rule of the promised king, God’s people will be saved and live in security. The king’s name will be “The LORD is our righteousness.”
In the gospel reading Luke directs us to a startling vision of kingship. Jesus is crucified between two criminals. One of the criminals is willing to give Jesus the title “Messiah,” but it comes with to the condition that he be rescued. The other criminal makes no requests regarding the torture he is enduring. Instead, he looks to the future and asks Jesus, ”Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
In 1519 Martin Luther wrote The Heidelberg Disputation. In it, he made the famous distinction between the Theology of the Cross and the Theology of Glory. Luther’s contention was that people are naturally drawn to the Theology of Glory, which he defined as a desire to take God’s glory by force of will, to use a relationship with God for protection from suffering, and to have God answer our desires. Of course, Luther rejected such an understanding of a relationship with God. Luther further asserted that people are naturally repelled by the Theology of the Cross. (Paul had rightly called the cross a “stumbling block” in 1 Corinthians 1:23.) The Theology of the Cross proclaims that Christians have a relationship with God because they “have died with Christ” (Paul again, Romans 6:7–8) and they can only know God by how he comes to them as Jesus. Jesus comes to us as one crucified, so if we are to know him, it will be as one on a cross.
Nowhere in Scripture is the distinction between the Theology of the Cross and the Theology of Glory so succinctly delineated as in the account Luke offers of the two criminals’ views of Jesus. The Theology of Glory is represented by the first criminal. He allowed for the possibility that Jesus could be the Messiah, but he presented a list of proofs that would be required to convince him. He would not believe in a king on a cross and he certainly would not believe in a king who left him on his own cross. The second criminal articulates the Theology of the Cross in just three sentences. He calls for respect for God without regard to his own personal circumstances. He looks at himself honestly. (It is no accident that many Christian worship services begin with a confession of sin.) He also looks at Jesus honestly and sees him clearly. He sees Jesus on a cross, recognizes him as a king, and asks to be part of the kingdom. The second criminal does not ask for rescue or vindication; he asks for a relationship with Jesus regardless of where that relationship will lead.
A celebration of Christ the King looks forward, beyond the cross. Jesus calls us from the other side of death to live a life of hope and freedom in the promise, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
