Blessings, Curses, and a Talking Donkey

 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8) 

Don’t you just love those weird, arcane, and totally unbelievable stories out of the Hebrew Scriptures? You know: the ones that make you ask, “Why the freak is this story in the Bible, and what is it trying to tell me?” Perhaps it’s my perverse love of the whimsical which makes me want to explain all the obscure references which pop up in our Hebrew Scripture lessons lately. 

For Epiphany 4, Year A in the Revised Common Lectionary our First Reading is Micah 6:1-8. If you skip reading verses 1 through 7 and just read verse 8 (quoted above) you’ll pretty much get the point. Nevertheless, I’m feeling a strange compulsion to explain the bizarre stuff referenced in verse 5: 

O my people, remember now what King Balak of Moab devised, what Balaam son of Beor answered him, and what happened from Shittim to Gilgal, that you may know the saving acts of the Lord. 

Before I do, however, let me just say that I think we could summarize the prophet’s discourse here by saying, “Hey, you guys! God was good to you, so you owe it to God to be good to others.” Simple, right? But, being a Jewish prophet and prone to rather ornate discourse, Micah appeals to the culture of the people with a few nostalgic references which you probably don’t remember from Sunday school.[i] 

So what happened from Shittim to Gilgal?[ii] God’s homeless refugee people were finally allowed to cross the river into the Promised Land. No need for them to wade across because they were following a group of priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant. As soon as the first priest hit the water of the Jordan, the river parted and the folks walked across on dry land. If you ask me, this seems slightly less miraculous than parting the Red Sea (the Jordan has a lot less water in it), but it was a miracle all the same. 

I’ll bet you probably don’t remember all that jazz about King Balak of Moab or Balaam son of Beor.[iii] This story takes place while this caravan of God’s refugees are still wandering around in the wilderness looking for a home. They’re about to cross the border into Moab, but the Moabite king, Balak, doesn’t want these foreigners in his country. He doesn’t have time to build a wall and he has no busses to ship them off to sanctuary cities. So what does he do? He hears about this sooth-sayer named Balaam who seems to be pretty tight with God or whatever powers are running the universe. He sends some delegates to him to ask him to come to Moab and curse the refugees so they will all die or turn around or something. Balaam meditates on this, and God tells him it’s a bad idea since God really loves these homeless people. Balak asks him again, and God decides to have a little fun with Balaam (God has a sense of humor, and is fond of jerking us around. If you live long enough, you’ll figure this out!). 

God gives Balaam permission to go to Moab, so he sets off on his donkey with Balak’s guys to meet the king. On his way, God puts an angel with a fiery sword on the road to block his path. But Balaam, the seer, is prevented from seeing the angel. No self-respecting donkey is going to mess with an angel with a fiery sword, so the donkey veers off the road. This ignites Balaam’s ire, so he whoops the poor donkey. The donkey then heads down a narrow side street, causing Balaam to scrape his foot against a wall. Balaam is even more pissed off now, and he whoops the donkey again. Balaam then finds himself in a narrow passage where he can’t even turn around. The angel is blocking his way, so the donkey does the only thing he can think to do, which is lie down. This really gets Balamm’s goat, and he starts to wail on the donkey a third time. 

Now God does a really wacky thing: He lets the donkey talk. (I can’t ever read this story without thinking the donkey sounds like Eddie Murphy as the talking donkey in the Shrek movies[iv].) The donkey goes off on Balaam, reminding him he’s been a pretty darn faithful critter for all these years and demanding to know why he’s getting a beat-down just for avoiding an angel with a fiery sword. God then opens Balaam’s eyes, and he sees the angel. The angel says he’d gladly kill Balaam for animal cruelty and let the donkey go free. 

Ultimately, Balaam has an audience with King Balak and tells him in no uncertain terms that these rag-tag refugees he’s so afraid of are God’s chosen people and Balak should be blessing them rather than asking for them to be cursed. Even if Balak offers him a boatload of cash, Balaam won’t go against God. 

All of this begs the question of who is blessed and who is cursed. In the story of the Exodus, the homeless refugees from an oppressive regime—the ones who are feared and not wanted—are the ones through whom God will bless the nations. In the gospel reading (Matthew 5:1-12) Jesus gives an in-service lesson to his disciples (that’s us, by the way) and tells them the ones who’ve been beaten down in spirit, who are mourning, who are humble, non-violent, and hurting for the world’s situation—in short, all the ones who don’t conform to the world’s selfish standards of success or worthiness--are the ones God loves. They are to be loved by us and welcomed and cared for. 

It’s not our doctrine or our worship or our worldly status that counts. We, like the wandering children of Israel, are blessed to be a blessing. How we act with and for one another reflects our relationship with God. 

God bless you, my friend. Thanks for visiting my page this week.

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[i] To be honest, neither did I. I had to look this stuff up. If you’re so inclined, you can check out the Bible passages in the succeeding end notes.

[ii] See Joshua 3:1-4:19

[iii] See Numbers 22-24

[iv] You remember the talking donkey from Shrek, right? Just click on the link donkey. C’mon. You know you want to.

Jesus is Calling and it's for You (Reflections on Epiphany 3, Year A 2023)

 

And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” (Matthew 4:19) 

I wonder what Peter and Andrew and James and John were thinking when they got up that morning. You know: the morning described in our gospel lesson in the RCL for Epiphany 3, Year A (Matthew 4:12-23). I bet they just figured this was going to be another day out on the fishing boat, hauling in the catch, separating out the saleable fish from the empty beer bottles and other assorted crap that got caught in their nets, then mending the nets, washing down the boat, and going home. Just a typical day. They didn’t expect that they were going to be called to be disciples of the Messiah. Boy. Some days really turn out weird, don’t they? 

Have you ever felt yourself called? Ever started out to do one thing and found out God had other plans for you? Ever fancy you heard Jesus whisper, “Hey. Stop what you’re doing. I need you over here?” 

When I think about it, I have a whole boatload of “call stories,” and not just the ones that led me to ordained ministry (although maybe they did). Once upon a time I taught in the theater department of a community college in Southern California. Among my classes was a general ed course I was assigned to teach on the Industrial Arts campus. I wasn’t too thrilled about this because a) Industrial Arts students weren’t going to be serious about the theater and go on to major in the subject, b) the IA campus was in a crappy part of town, and c) the class was at night. 

I felt my department chair had sent me to Siberia by giving me this assignment, and I complained about it to my singing coach, a brilliant African American vocalist named Adrian Shaw.[i] Adrian was a beautiful Christian man, and he gave me some advice. “Owen,” he said, “you need to pray about this. If this is where the Lord wants you to be, the Lord will put the desire to be there in your heart.” 

I taught that class for three more years, and loved every minute of it. 

I continued to teach my non-major night class after budget cuts eliminated the courses I taught on the college’s main campus. I did a lot of odd jobs then, some in show business and some not. I was working as an extra on the NBC TV series Highway to Heaven when one of my fellow “Background Specialists” suggested I apply to be a substitute teacher with the Los Angeles Unified School District. I thought, “Why not?” I had an MFA degree and a lifetime community college teaching credential, and I could easily see myself, when not auditioning for a play or movie, giving erudite talks on Shakespeare or Dickens to high school students. 

God had other plans. One of my first assignments was in junior high special education. It was a good day which somehow caused the powers that be at the LAUSD to decide I was a junior high special ed teacher. With no credentials or experience with learning disabled youth at all, I spent the next six years in long-term junior high special ed assignments. This wasn’t what I had planned, but the experience gave me a perspective on people and society I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Against my will God was trying to make me a better person. 

When I accepted the call to Faith Lutheran of Philadelphia twenty-four years ago, I had no idea I’d be here as long as I have. I also had no idea that I would become the Barry Bonds of neighborhood funerals. I thought I might extend my ministry at Faith to being a chaplain at the local hospital or a nursing home or something. I had no idea I’d be doing over 900 memorial services, of which barely 10% had anything to do with the folks at Faith Lutheran. But this seems to be what God wants me to do for now. It’s not always pleasant as I’ve had to deal with drug overdoses, suicides, and homicides over the years, but as a ministry there is a curious satisfaction in doing it. I guess the Lord has put the desire in my heart. 

So what about you? When did God steer you away from your “fishing boat” to an opportunity uphold others? And how is Jesus calling you now to be part of the net that reveals him to someone who might really need him? Have you even considered that you have been called? Have you told anyone about it? It might be a good story to share. 

The season of Epiphany is the time we celebrate how Jesus was revealed as God’s Messiah. The Epiphany 3 gospel is married to a reading from Isaiah 9. Our evangelist Matthew quotes this passage as a way of letting folks know God had been planning this for Jesus all along. 

What, do you think, has God planned for you? 

God’s peace, my friend. Thanks for reading.

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[i] Actually, I complained abut this to everyone. I’m a complainer.

Behold the Lamb (Reflections on Epiphany 2, Year A 2023)

 

"Lamb of God" van Eyck from Ghent altarpiece 15th Cent.

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” (John 1: 35-36) 

Have you seen those “He Gets Us” spots that have been running on commercial TV lately? They’re a collection of very graphic images in black and white photography of scenes from modern life. They’re snapshots of quotidian angst, poverty, injustice, alienation, etcetera—you know: the kind of stuff we all spiritually mud-wrestle with. The accompanying narrations and captions point out that Jesus Christ had to deal with the same crap. The images infer a modern and relevant context to the life of Jesus, humanizing him, and making him relatable.[i] 

Personally, I think this is a pretty good way to point folks in the direction of Jesus. The “He Gets Us” campaign presents the Lord as one who has lived in poverty and struggled with finances, a refugee, someone who had to deal with criticism, someone who knew loneliness, and someone who believed in inclusivity and reconciliation. All of that stuff really is biblical. Of course, there are always going to be some who get their Fruit of the Looms bunched up if you make Jesus too human and not God enough.[ii] For my money, however, I think anyway we can point people to Jesus is worth a try. Let’s face it, my dears, this world is pretty messed up right now and we could all use a little Jesus. 

The gospel lesson for the Epiphany 2, Year A (John 1:29-42) presents us with good ol’ John the Baptist pointing his disciples—in this case Andrew and a player to be named later—to Jesus, “a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” I always think it’s cool that John knows when his time has come to step aside and let Jesus take the spotlight. Up to this time, John’s been the big man on campus, but he has the spiritual maturity and good sense to recognize that his whole job was to be the advance man for the guy he’s going to call “The Lamb of God.” 

One of the wonky little details that appeal to me is verse 36. In the New Revised Standard Version of the New Testament, this verse renders the rather prosaic phrase, “as he watched Jesus walk by.” The term “watched,” however, packs a harder punch in the ancient Greek. The Greek New testament uses the term emblepsas[iii], which means John “fixed his eyes” on Jesus. He didn’t just happen to notice a pedestrian savior in the neighborhood. He really looked at the guy, really took him in, and saw what he was about. 

And what did John see? He’d already seen the Holy Spirit alight on Jesus at Jesus’ baptism. What he told his disciples to observe (or “Behold!” as the old King James Bible puts it) was the “Lamb of God.” This lamb image has a couple of meanings. It can relate Jesus to the “lamb led to the slaughter” referenced in Isaiah 53:7, in which case John was seeing a servant who was prepared to go all in for the people, even if that servanthood meant giving up his own life. Most likely, it also referred to the Passover lamb.[iv] This is a really loaded image, but it boils down to seeing Jesus as the avenue by which we come to God. 

If you remember the story of the Exodus, the Passover lamb had a bunch of functions. The blood of the lamb on the door post marked the people as belonging to God, just as our baptism into Christ marks us. The meat of the lamb consumed before the great journey nourished the people for the ordeal they were about to have, just as the words of Jesus nourish and sustain us for the journey through the messier parts of our human life. The sign of the lamb protected the people, just as we lean on God for safety through this insane world. Finally, the blood of the lamb saved the people from bondage, just as faith in Christ and adherence to his love, forgiveness, and compassion has the power to rescue us from depression, despair, anger, addiction, bitterness, and so many of the things which trap us in slavery to sin. 

Just as John was willing to see Jesus, step back, and let his followers walk a new path, I’m ready to see the American church look at Jesus, step back, and start on a new journey. Personally, I can’t see the old emphasis on individual salvation making any real difference to 21^st century listeners. I can’t believe the God who created the magnificence of the universe is so petty as to inflict eternal torment on anyone just because they can’t pass a catechetical exam. Similarly, as I look at Jesus in the scriptures, I can’t see him being about that. 

No. The Jesus who forgave sinners, who healed the sick, who fed the hungry, who challenged injustice, who crossed racial boundaries, and taught generosity, faith, and humility is the Jesus we need to rediscover and look to now. If eternal life is really eternal, we’re living part of it now. The best way for Christians to do that is to look to Jesus and, in his heartbreaking humanity, discover the holiness of God. I agree with those folks who started the TV campaign. Yup. He gets us. I just hope we learn to get him. 

May the peace of God that passes our understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Thanks for reading this week. Let me know what you think.

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[i] You can check out all the spots (They’re only 30 – 60 seconds long) on the “He Gets Us” website: https://hegetsus.com/en

[ii] You can read Natasha Crain’s more fundamentalist critique of “He Gets Us” at: https://natashacrain.com/7-problems-with-the-he-gets-us-campaign/

[iii] Embleyas for you ancient Greek lovers out there.

[iv] This is the most logical interpretation, given how the Fourth Gospel juxtaposes the Crucifixion with the day the Passover lambs were slaughtered.

Righteous! (Reflections on the Baptism of Our Lord, 2023)

 

But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” (Matthew 3:15) 

I’m reading a great book at bedtime. It’s Doris Kearns Goodwin’s The Bully Pulpit. No, it’s not a book about intimidating sermons. It’s a history about the relationship between Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and his successor, William Howard Taft. The two men started out their political careers as great friends and allies, but by 1912 the two Republicans found themselves in a bitter battle for their party’s nomination. I’m almost to the end of the 700+ page history, and I really hope these two great Americans shake hands and make up (Don’t anyone spoil the book for me if you know whether or not they did!). In just the same way I hope Wills and Harry (You know: King Charles’ boys) get over their kerfuffle and act like brothers again. And maybe someday the Republicans and Democrats in Congress might put aside a few of their differences and actually get something worthwhile done for our country. 

It really bites when folks who have so much in common can’t get along. After all, relationship is what it’s all about, don’t you think? 

Relationship—right relationship—is key to the gospel lesson we read for the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord (Matthew 3:13-17). The term righteousness does not mean being morally perfect. It means being in a reconciling relationship with God. Often this means admitting that we’re pretty darn morally imperfect. 

Diane Chin, Professor of New Testament at the Palmer Theological Seminary in St. David’s, PA, suggests that it would be one tough road for a first century Jewish guy to walk to come to John the Baptist, publicly admit his faults, and ask to be washed clean[i]. Honor and shame were pretty big deals in that culture[ii], but the only way to become righteous was to suck it up and say a big “I’m sorry.” Dr. Chin says Abraham was reckoned to be righteous because he believed God and was willing to do what God asked. This put him in relationship with God, and that’s what was considered righteous. Abe certainly wasn’t a paragon of virtue[iii]. 

When Jesus comes down to the Jordan, he establishes relationships. John gets a little uneasy about this because he figures the right relationship is for him to be subordinate to Jesus. You have to admire the guy’s humility because John was the big hairy deal up to this point. But Jesus knows that he has to undergo everything we undergo in order to be in relationship with us. When Jesus washes, as I like to say, in our dirty bathwater, God proclaims the relationship he has with him. “You’re my kid and you make me happy!” 

That’s the relationship we have with God through our baptism. The sacrament does two things: it makes us family, and it promises us that we’ll be family no matter what. 

When I do my five-minute catechesis with drive-by baptism mommies over the phone, I like to explain the subtle difference between how we Lutherans understand baptism as opposed to how our Roman brothers understand it. Both traditions acknowledge the doctrine of Original Sin. That is, we all know that, however cute your baby might be, he/she is born human and is going to do dumb things. If you’re born on the beach, you’re going to get sandy. If you’re born human, you’re going to be a sinner. You just are. You can’t help it. The Catholic Church teaches that the sacrament of baptism frees the baptized from the stain of Original Sin. BUT: There’s a problem. After you’re baptized you just might sin again. Then you have to go to confession, do some penance, and work off that sin. 

Martin Luther taught that baptism “brings forgiveness of sins, redeems from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe it.[iv]” In a nutshell, when we’re baptized we believe we’ve come into relationship with God. We’re now God’s kids, part of the family. You know how it is with your own kids. You always love them even when you don’t necessarily like them at times. They just never stop being your kids. That’s our relationship with God of which Holy Baptism is the sign. We may screw up millions of times in our lives (and, don’t doubt it, we will), but the relationship is never broken. It’s 100% guaranteed for life. There’s no need for penance. Our weekly confession and trips to God’s dinner table at Holy Communion are just signs to remind us of the righteousness—the family relationship—we already possess through God’s grace. 

Wouldn’t it be great if we could see all our relationships through the lens of God’s righteousness? I think it would be swell to consider that all of the issues we have with one another—however acrimonious—are only temporary setbacks. The bond of family is always there, and forgiveness is never impossible.

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[i] I’ve stolen a bit from her article on the Working Preacher website.

[ii] As opposed to OUR culture where nobody seems to have any shame at all these days!

[iii] See Genesis 15:6. If you read through Genesis you’ll see that Abraham could be a real jerk at times. So could Noah and just about all the other patriarchs. None of them were any more perfect than you or I.

[iv] Check out the Small Catechism.