July 20, 2014
11th Sunday after Pentecost
First Mennonite Church, Reedley, CA


I don't know about you, but I am in need of a grand promise today. The kind of promise that grows hope within me. The kind of hope that renews my imagination for not just the future, but for this present day, these present times. This is a gospel kind of promise.

What do we mean when we talk about "gospel" or "gospel promises"? We can turn to old favorites: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life" (ESV, Jn. 3:16). We can sing: "Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away; To a land where joy shall never end, I'll fly away." So often I hear the gospel presented as a promise for the future, for after death. But what about now? Does the gospel speak to us here and now? What might its promise sound like if we were listening to it with ears attuned to the daily cries and joys of life? There are many who cannot hear any promise for us at all. They look around and see pain and struggle without end that, in their view, renders the gospel impotent. Words without power. Popular singer, Sarah McLachlan sings a song called, "Dear God" that captures this worldview well:

Dear God, I hope you got the letter, and I pray that you can make it better down here. I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer. And all the people that you made in your image, see them starving on their feet cause they don't get enough to eat from God. I can't believe in you. Dear God, I'm sorry to disturb you but I feel I should be heard loud and clear. We all need a big reduction in the amount of tears. And all the people that you made in your image, see them fighting in the street cause they can't make opinions meet about God. I can't believe in you.

McLachlan presses God to account for death and sickness and injustice, concluding that "You're always letting us humans down." She sings, "The hurt I see helps to compound the Father, Son and Holy Ghost is just somebody's unholy hoax." This song makes me uncomfortable because, in addition to it being a blatant challenge to evangelical Christian faith, it also stabs my heart with the truth that all is not as it should be. So often, the gospel is presented to promise undisturbed health and wealth for those who claim it. But when the gospel is reduced to the promise of prosperity, it's claims seem fradulant. We must remember that even as we announce "the Kingdom of God is among us" that it is equally true that the Kingdom of God has not yet come. We experience both the already and the not yet of the promise of newness and redemption. For many, the "not yet" is reason enough to reject the gospel claim. Can anyone take seriously a gospel promise in a world where so many atrocious things happen?

Each of our passages today insist, "Yes!" In fact, it is in the midst of suffering that the gospel promise becomes most clear. Isaiah's words to us today make big claims: "I am the first and I am the last; besides me there is no god... Is there any god besides me? There is no other rock; I know not one" (NRSV, Isa. 6, 8). Old Testament scholar, Walter Bruggemann, sets the scene for us: court is in session, and God is on trial. The people of God have seen disasterous events occur: they have been carried away into Babylonian exile. In a world that understands military and policital events on earth to mirror heavenly events among the gods, exile suggests that the God of Israel has been defeated by the Babylonian gods. Yet, when pressed in court, God claims the titles "King," "Redeemer, and "LORD of hosts" (Isa. 44:6). He asks, "Who is like me?" (44:7). This question transports me to the story of Job. When God finally addresses his situation, he asks a series of questions: he basically says, "Where were you when I made the earth? Are you the one who makes creation thrive? Do you understand how it all works?" (Job 38). In other words, "Who is like me?" Job was facing his own personal exile of loss and suffering. Even his wife told him to give up hope. I imagine that through Job's experience, especially because he insisted on his innocence - he wasn't suffering because of his sin - that he wrestled with the question of theodicy. If God is who he says he is - loving and powerful - why this suffering? In the same way, the Israelites must have asked the same question in Babylon: if God is truly "LORD of hosts," how is it that we have been defeated? The implications of such a question are clear: our defeat means God's defeat; our suffering, his inadequacy. Right?

Not at all! Our text from Isaiah moves us forward from exile to a declaration of comfort. "Do not fear, or be afraid" God encourages his people. This portion of Isaiah, chapters 40-55, was written much later than the beginning chapters that announce Israel's captivity and exile. Brueggemann calls this "the long pause."

As we finish chapter 39, we are permitted, by the shape of the book of Isaiah, to look into the defining abyss of the life and faith of Judah. IN 39:1 we have been brought face-to-face with Babylon, a force that will dominate the book of Isaiah in the coming section... The prophet, moreover, anticipates that Jerusalem 'shall be carried to Babylon,... shall be taken away;... shall be eunichs in the palace of the king of Babylon' (39:6-7)... The reader of the book of Isaiah must endure a very long pause before taking up chapter 40, for the space between 39:8 and 40:1 signifies the defining interruption in the life and faith of Israel... The gap between 39:8 and 40:1, reckoned in chronological time, is thus about 160 years, a long pause indeed. (Brueggemann 8)

After 160 years of devastation and suffering, the declaration of comfort comes. And in our passage, a statement of encouragement - God is God and there is no other like him. Fear not! In the grand courtroom of life, we are witnesses to God's claims - King, Redeemer, Lord of Hosts. "The poetry [of this section of Isaiah] revolves around the contest between Yahweh and Babylon, and the passionate bid for Judah to trust Yahweh rather than Babylon" (Brueggemann 11). There is no contest: there is no god besides Yahweh. He is the one who calls for Israel's release, and he is the one who calls for our redemption as well.

Jesus' parable of the wheat and the weeds as told by Matthew also makes a big gospel claim. Think of these lectionary readings as a conversation. Isaiah and Matthew are telling a gospel story, promising a gospel promise. The first century may not have seen God's people in Babylonian exile, but they were experiencing an exile all their own. Rome was now in charge, the power of the day making a bid for ultimate allegiance. The actor, Babylon, on the world stage may now be the Roman Empire, but the struggle is the same: who will Israel turn to, who will they trust for life and a future? Caesar? Or Yahweh? Each Jewish group, whether the Saducees or the Pharisees, the Essenes or Zealots, had to make sense of their political situation in light of their theology and choose a way of living in the world that might usher in God's kingdom. Their worldview determined their life choices. In this parable, Jesus gives us one example of what the Kingdom of God is like. He helps us see a bit more of the big picture.

As we heard read, the parable utilizes an agricultural scenario that communicates an eschatalogical truth. This morning I'd like us to focus on a couple of aspects of that truth: there is a harvest coming, and there is an enemy at work. For a people constantly under the power of another nation, the Jews must have wondered whether or not God was ever going to restore his Kingdom. Their prayerbook, the Psalter, contains many utterances of "How long, O Lord?" This was a question burning in their minds and hearts. When would God decisively act to reestablish his Kingdom? In Jesus' parable, we learn that there is a harvest coming. There is no question of if; we just don't know when. This given in the story is a gospel claim in itself. It asserts that Yahweh is the God of heaven and earth, and that other so-called gods amount to nothing. Yahweh is the one writing the story of human history. He is the one who is moving his people toward redemption. He has a goal in mind, and it will come to fruition. In a world that inspires songs like Sara McLachlin's, in a world that questions the very existence of God, Jesus asserts that Yahweh's presence gives us eschatalogical hope.

But what of the atrocities of life? This parable also tells us that there is an enemy working against Yahweh. Jesus interprets the parable and tells us that this enemy is the devil and he plants his own children among God's children. His children are the ones who do evil, who perpetuate sin the world. This accounts for the suffering that God's children experience. The Master of the field does not want to risk uprooting any of the wheat, and so the weeds remain until harvest time. They will be dealt with; however, in the mean time, they can and do cause all sorts of trials and tribulations. Sin is a force to be reckoned with in this life. It has not yet been eradicated. When we experience the effects of sin, we may be tempted to doubt God's love and/ or power, but, according to this parable, we would do better to hear the gospel promise that in love, God is working to set all things right. The enemy will not previal. God's will will be done on earth as in heaven.

Yet we wait, and in the waiting we experiencing suffering. The apostle Paul writes to the Roman church, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us" (NRSV, Ro. 8:18). Paul is certain of what both Isaiah and Matthew communicate: the God of Israel is the God who wins out in the end. Our God is the agent of redemption in this world. Paul sees that the entire created order is in need of redemption, and that it will come by God's hand. Romans 8:18-25 reads:

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (NRSV)

I had the privilege of teaching two sections of the class "Theological Ethics & the Environment" at FPU a while back, and one of my main goals was to show the students the connection between human sin and suffering and creation. I wanted to change the attitude that "the environment" does not really matter. We focused on food ethics. In the Western world, people may be challenged to care for the environment because it provides them greater health to, for example, eat organically. It is a bit harder to convince someone who does not struggle to get enough to eat or clean water to drink that the whole system needs healing. There is a strong connection between social justice and food. In a world where, as Sara McLachlin sings, "The people made in your image see them starving on their feet because they don't get enough to eat from God," there is so much room for Christians to serve the "least of these" by working for greater justice in the food system. This, of course, is just one example of how we can be part of God's redemptive plan.

Earlier in Romans 8, Paul compares flesh with spirit. To set one's mind on the flesh is to be hostile to God, not submitting to his instruction. To live according to the Spirit is to be dead to sin and alive in Christ. Romans 8:12-17 reads:

So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh - for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, 'Abba! Father!' it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ - if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him. (NRSV)

Notice the call to suffer with Christ. This is a common thread running throughout each of our lectionary texts for today. The gospel does not shy away from the reality of suffering. Why is it that so much of the church does? Might "setting the mind on the flesh" be done by trying to avoid suffering and living according to the comforts we crave? How much sin might we engage in by our lifestyles of relative comfort? How much do we shield ourselves from the suffering of others by trying to keep suffering at arms length in our own lives? Christ gives us a different example to follow.

The section of Isaiah that we read from belongs to a larger portion of the book where an odd character emerges: the suffering servant. After the "long pause" when we begin to hear words of comfort, we meet an agent of God who will bring about the promised homecoming and redmeption. You can get a good description of this servant in Isaiah 53: he is a surprising character because of the way he brings about the promise. "Out of his anguish he shall see light; he shall find satisfaction through his knowledge. The righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities" (Isa. 53:11). In Jesus' parable, the Son of Man is the one who sows good seed and who will manage the harvest. The identity of the Son of Man is also connected to suffering. Jesus spends much time telling his disciples that the Son of Man must suffer and die in order to fulfill God's mission. The Kingdom is coming via his suffering. This is not what they expected. In fact, it would have been an affront to their notions of a victorious Messiah. Yet, Jesus says, this is how it will happen. Those whose minds are set on the flesh cannot understand it; those who are empowered by the Spirit will embrace it and follow its way.

Allow me to quote at length from Brueggemann's words regarding our section of Isaiah:

If, however, we are to take the text seriously as a contemporary theolgical resource, we must do more than enjoy its generic "evangelical" buoyancy. I do not think the text can be simply reapplied directly to our time and place. Nonetheless, I suggest an avenue of interpretation. If we take the triad of Yahweh-Babylon-Judah as the players in this dramatic enterprise and seek contemporaneity, it is easy enough to continue to acknowledge the identity of Yahweh, the same God who rules in judgment and deliverance. In parallel fashion, it is obvious enough to take Judah as the contemporary community of faith, surely the synagogue and by derivation the church. But it is with the third player, Babylon, that we are summoned to more disciplined reflection for an equivalence that is not obvious. 

The term Babylon has become a code word for any rapacious social system. It is used in the book of Revelation to refer to imperial Rome and its demanding emperor worship (Revelation 18). Martin Luther used the term to refer to what he saw as the oppressive sacramental system of the Roman Church. In our time and place, as a believing community in the United States (or anywhere in the West), I suggest a powerful - though not precise - equivalence of Babylon in the ideology of free-market consumerism and its required ally, unbridled militarism. I refer not to particular players, parties, or leaders, but to the unexamined, dominant ideology that encompasses everyone, liberal and conservative, and that sets the limits of what is possible and what is good, what is to be feared and what is to be trusted. 

There is no doubt that this powerful ideology is such that it robs the human community of its humanness and reduces all of life to commodity. The gospel question in our time, as it was for those ancient exiles, is whether there is or can be life outside the ideology and whether there is a good-news offer of such an option. The announcement of life emancipated from the endless demands of this ideology is indeed gospel news that the ultimate claims of the ideology are not credible and have been nullified. It is not easy to speak or hear or trust such a gospel, because the ideology is seemingly all pervasive. But it was not easy when this gospel of life beyond rapacious ideology was uttered in that ancient sixth century. 

Perhaps that is why (a) the announcement is provisionally disputatious and (b) the figure of a suffering servant is, in the end, necessary to the credibility of the gospel. So it was then. So it is now - still a quite unattractive suffering, but one still needed. Only such suffering confirms the gospel news. We keep refusing the claim that we are healed by someone willing to accept the bruises (see 53:5). But we see it was so for the ancient Jews. We see it was so in the life and death of Jesus. And we dare face the staggering chance that it may continue to be so even to our time and place. It is this ancient yet contemporary text that insists that needed bruising is a present, inescapable reality. The text gives 'comfort' from the God of all comfort, but not easily and not obviously - perhaps only hiddenly (see 45:15). (Brueggemann 14-15)

As I said when I began, I am in need of a grand promise today. A gospel promise that means everything for how I see the world and live in it in this present time. I want to live according to the Spirit, and our texts this morning challenge me to see that that life will include suffering. As I groan with creation, my imagination is freed from the ideology that binds us, and I can make choices outside unjust social systems. Whether I work with Christ to usher in God's kingdom by the food I eat, the way I feed others, or whether by some other way, there is always something we can do. May we have the faith to do it. "Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart to revere your name" (Ps. 86:11). Amen.