Building a Neighborhood
Matthew 16:13-20, Romans 12:1-8 When Allan and I began at the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond, VA, Tom Graves was the president. He led the procession of faculty members in the first convocation we attended in the fall of 1996 (30 yrs ago) as he did every year with a white hand towel draped over his left arm. Dr. Graves had made the servant’s towel a symbol the seminary adopted from its very first convocation. And every student received one upon their graduation embroidered with our names. It was a symbol of calling to a world that needed servant-leaders. Dr. Graves set the example from the start. Three years ago this month, Tom Graves passed away, after years of living with MS. At the time, one of our professors, Dr. Linda McKinnish Bridges, wrote a tribute to him. It reminded me so clearly of something he said (asked, really) at every convocation: Students would hear his polished, public speaking voice, which had been shaped by years of collegiate debate, at the beginning of every fall term, when he welcomed the new and old students to campus. The cadence and timbre of his voice still rings in my ears to this day. He would pause from the traditional presidential welcome speech, stand on his heels and lean into the pulpit, and then boldly and loudly ask, “WHY are YOU here?” The inquiry was not condescending judgment but an honest invitation to engage in self-reflection, to begin an open dialogue about commitment to ministry, to the challenges of the rigors of advanced theological study and the simple but daunting command of Christ to serve others.1 Why are you heeeere? Dr. Graves asked us this clarifying question every year. It’s a very similar kind of question to the ones Jesus is asking in our gospel passage today. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” “And how about you? Who do you say that I am?” They are pointed questions. Clarifying questions. Posed to his audience of closest disciples here in Matthew 16, but also powerfully clarifying questions for us to consider today. One of our own identifying statements as a body is that we are committed to faithfully thinking. These questions challenge us to think, wonder, and then answer Jesus’ questions for ourselves: Who do people (out there) say that I am? And what about you, Weatherly, who do you say that I am? The people in and around Caesarea Philippi, Jewish and non-Jewish, have a few opinions about who Jesus might be. Some say John the Baptist. Did they believe as Jesus once said (Matthew 11:11) that no greater man had ever been born from a woman than John? So, this must be him. No, those who witnessed his baptism know Jesus is not John. Others thought Jesus was some sort of recycled prophet, reaching back to Elijah, or maybe Jeremiah. Is God still reliant upon these prophets of old, reincarnated, to lead, teach, and heal the people? Very soon, Peter, James and John will witness Jesus standing on the mountain of transfiguration next to Moses and Elijah. No, God is not recycling prophets. God is doing something altogether new in the person of Jesus. The disciples seem puzzled about answering Jesus’ next question. No one speaks. Until Peter, again, emerges as the spokesperson for the Twelve. Peter’s confession clarifies for the first time precisely who Jesus is. “You are the Christ, the son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16). Peter is singled out and celebrated for his answer. It isn’t his best guess, nor something he came up with on his own, or read in a book. This truth has been revealed to him, Jesus says, by heaven above. “God himself let you in on the secret of who I am, and now I am going to tell you who you really are!”2 Peter receives Jesus’ blessing threefold. 1) The church, the ekklesia, will be built upon “this rock”; 2) that the church will prevail against the gates of death; and 3) that the keys of the kingdom of heaven will be given to Peter. Because of these verse, so many jokes start with “St. Peter was standing at the Pearly Gates when…” An engineer arrives and stands before St. Peter. “Why are you here?” asks […]
Neighborhood Watch
Matthew 15:[10-20] 21-28, Romans Neighborhood Watch programs started as a cooperative relationship between law enforcement and average citizens. Have you seen the Neighborhood Watch signs? They show a red circle with a line through it over the dark silhouette of someone wearing a trench coat and fedora. Who are we watching out for? The Blues Brothers? Is this what crooks and suspicious characters wear these days? Today, I would like for us to imagine the kind of Neighborhood Watch program God would design. What would God tell us to watch out for? Who would God want us to keep an eye on? Matthew 15:21-28 is problematic. This story paints a picture of Jesus that is almost unrecognizable. This is not the Jesus we know and love. In fact, this Jesus is one I don’t even particularly like. 1 But let me back up for a moment. After walking on the water with Peter, he and the disciples beached the boat at Gennesaret. The crowds catch wind of his return. And in the Message it says, “They sent out word through the neighborhood and rounded up all the sick, who asked for permission to touch the edge of his coat. And whoever touched him was healed.”2 This is what the neighborhood God is building is going to look like – personal ministry among those who need healing the most. Here is what it’s NOT going to look like… While in Gennesaret, as if on Neighborhood Watch, the Pharisees and scribes arrive from Jerusalem questioning Jesus about his disciples who ignore the purity codes and “eat their bread with unwashed hands.” Purity police on patrol. Jesus gives them something to chew on. In so many words, he calls them hypocrites, quotes some Isaiah and condemns them for what David Garland calls, performing lip service but not heart service.3 They make a big show of making sure they say all the right things, but their heart isn’t in any of it. This is really the opposite of who Jesus’ disciples are. They often say the wrong things, but their hearts are in the right place. Jesus turns then to the crowd around him and tries to explain that what goes in your mouth is not the problem, but what comes out. And what comes out of your mouth (he means your words and actions) will reveal what’s in your heart. Peter, who is becoming the spokesperson of the disciples in Matthew’s gospel, wants a better explanation. Jesus tries to explain, but what happens next… This Canaanite woman becomes the explanation. She speaks and out of her mouth comes the overflow of her heart. I can’t help but notice how her request, “Lord, help me,” sounds so much like Peter’s cry to Jesus when he is about to be swallowed by the waves (“Lord, save me!”). And what was true about Peter’s cry is true here. In her persistence, in her confession, “Lord, Son of David,” it’s her faith that is evident. She models, for us (and the disciples), what it looks like when the contents of one’s heart match what comes out of their mouth. She doesn’t doubt that Jesus can set her daughter free of her demons. She knows he can and I think she believes that he will — perhaps even before he does. There is a lot of speculation about Jesus’ responses to her. First, he ignores her. He doesn’t dismiss her as the disciples ask, but he doesn’t acknowledge her either. To the disciples rather than to her, he explains that he has his hands full already with “the lost sheep of Israel.” This is him refusing her request. He has enough to say grace over with his own flock. How many times have we said, or thought the same thing. You’ve got your own family to take care of, the dog, the office, your boss, your patients, your students, your clients. You can’t possibly say yes to one more thing. Perhaps we’ve all felt like Jesus at this moment when the church is asking you to complete a survey saying where would you like to serve this next year. How could you possibly take on one more thing? Like we do when someone on the nominating committee calls. I think Jesus is avoiding making personal contact with her. Then this woman, who is not a member of the tribe of Israel, but the enemies of God’s […]
If You Wanna Walk on Water
Matthew 14:22-33, Romans 10:5-15 A man appears before the pearly gates. “Have you ever done anything of particular merit?” St. Peter asks. “Well, I can think of one thing,” the man offers. “Once I came upon a rough looking biker gang who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they wouldn’t listen. So I approached the largest and meanest looking biker. I smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground, and told him, ‘Leave her alone now or you’ll answer to me.’” St. Peter was impressed. “When did this happen?” “A couple minutes ago.” 1 I suspect Peter knows a little bit about this. Impulse control was never his strong-suit either. In today’s story, there are lessons to be learned from this disciple who jumps out of the boat in a raging storm— lessons on courage and faith, and most of all recognizing that resilience doesn’t come from single human will-power. In Matthew’s gospel, this episode follows the death of John and then the feeding of the five thousand. Hearing about his cousin, and predecessor in this movement, Jesus is reminded of the risk he and all his followers are assuming. When the miraculous meal was finished, Jesus insisted the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side of the lake while he dismissed the people. After the crowd dispersed, Jesus took himself up on the mountainside to be by himself and pray. He stayed there, alone, way into the night. The disciples’ boat was out in the middle of the sea, when a storm came upon them. Their boat was “tormented by the waves” (14:24), Matthew wrote. Battered, or tossed, our translations say, emphasizing the violent beating they were taking. You can imagine what this is like –a squall of wind and rain in your face, muscles exhausted from holding on for dear life, working every maneuver they knew to keep the boat upright. They are spent, their resilience tested to their limits. It is around 4:00am, the fourth watch, the darkest hours of the night. The time of night when even sleepers are jolted awake by worries and fears. That is precisely when Jesus shows up. 2 Is this a test of their strength and stamina? A test to see who they will turn to in storms of life? In their rain-soaked fatigue and stress, they see a figure coming at them and don’t recognize that it is him. Jesus is quick to reassure them, “Courage! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” Impulsive Peter reacts saying, “If it is you, call me to come to you on the water.” It is a bold idea, risky. What will Jesus say? “C’mon then,” Jesus said to him. Peter jumped into the stormy sea and started walking out to Jesus. We know what happens next. The wind picks up. Peter gets scared and starts to sink. We give him such a hard time about this. Tsk. Tsk. You of little faith. And yet, I think most of us would lose our nerve in the same circumstances. Most of us would never have even gotten out of the boat. I learned to water ski when I was about 11 years old. It was Memorial Day on Percy Priest lake. We had gone upriver where there were far fewer boats, and the water was much smoother. There I was bobbing in the water in my life vest, struggling to keep the tops of my skis above water, hold onto the rope, let the boat pull me up. All those things you’ve got to do at the same time if you want to glide across the top of the water and not get pulled under. Everyone in my family could ski, so they were all shouting instructions. Remember, I am the youngest child, so I was used to it. I know I took some big spills that day and drank a gallon of lake water, but eventually, I wobbled up to a standing position and held on… I was doing it! Then my father steered the boat in such a way to force me to cross the wake into smoother water. I tried to hold my position right behind the boat. I had never crossed the wake before! “One ski at a time!” I told myself. “I’ll try one ski at a time.” Crossing the wake is a commitment. If you’re on two skis, it’s a two ski, single action maneuver. A skier can’t successfully cross the wake one ski at a time – slowly and carefully. […]