Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 27, 2022 “There’s Room for Every Story” Matthew 7: 1-17 –King James Version The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. 2 Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob; and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren; 3 And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar; and Phares begat Esrom; and Esrom begat Aram; 4 And Aram begat Aminadab; and Aminadab begat Naasson; and Naasson begat Salmon; 5 And Salmon begat Booz of Rachab; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth; and Obed begat Jesse; 6 And Jesse begat David the king; and David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias; 7 And Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa; 8 And Asa begat Josaphat; and Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias; 9 And Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias; 10 And Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias; 11 And Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon: 12 And after they were brought to Babylon, Jechonias begat Salathiel; and Salathiel begat Zorobabel; 13 And Zorobabel begat Abiud; and Abiud begat Eliakim; and Eliakim begat Azor; 14 And Azor begat Sadoc; and Sadoc begat Achim; and Achim begat Eliud; 15 And Eliud begat Eleazar; and Eleazar begat Matthan; and Matthan begat Jacob; 16 And Jacob begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. 17 So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David until the carrying away into Babylon are fourteen generations; and from the carrying away into Babylon unto Christ are fourteen generations. From Abraham to Jesus, 42 generations of begetting and begatting and begotting. And within all those names, like buried treasure, are five fascinating women: Mary, Bathsheba, Ruth, Rahab and Tamar. The fab five of bravery and brilliance. They are all the kind of woman about whom someone might say, with exasperation, “nevertheless she persisted.” They are all women who might be called into question for their “family values.” We’re probably most familiar with Mary who, among many other things, gave birth to a child conceived out of wedlock. Then there’s Bathsheba, who’s actually not named here. Matthew just names her the wife of Uriah. Uriah was the soldier King David had murdered on the front lines of battle to cover up David’s adulterous affair with his wife, an affair which began with him leering and lusting at Bathsheba while she was bathing. However, Bathsheba’s not a passive object. Her son Solomon, the result of the affair, was not the heir to King David’s throne. That honor went to the eldest of David’s multiple wives. Seizing an opportunity, though, Bathsheba connived and plotted and schemed and back-stabbed her way to see that her son became King Solomon. It’s quite Shakespearean. Lust, adultery, murder, until everyone could settle down into their nice traditional family of sister-wives, a polygamous family, headed by a father who said that his true love was Jonathon, “greater than the love of a woman,” David said. Then there’s Ruth who pledged an undying commitment to Naomi after their husbands and sons all died. The two of them were left to figure out how to survive. Upon Naomi’s coaching, one night, Ruth shrewdly and carefully “uncovered the feet of Boaz on the threshing floor,” which led to her becoming his wife, despite such a marriage being forbidden. Their son was King David’s grandfather. Can you see a theme? Child out of wedlock. Child of adultery. Child of some “threshing floor” activities under the cover of night and a forbidden mixed marriage. Then there’s Rahab. Simply put, Rahab was a sex worker. In fact, she was the prostitute of choice for the rich and powerful in Jericho. Some Israelite spies came to destroy the city. She hid them inside the middle of the massive city wall. How did she come to have such a safe and privileged location? She was the prostitute of choice for the rich and powerful. By hiding the spies, she risked death by turning on her clients. David’s great-great-grandma Rahab. The mother of Boaz, the child of a prostitute, who later married Ruth despite the taboo. Seduction, murder, scheming, adultery, prostitution, and espionage. And then we have Grandma Tamar. Like Ruth and Rahab, Tamar was a foreigner. According to scripture, she married a man who died because he was wicked in the sight of God. They had no children. So, according to the law, his next in line brother was obligated to marry her and have children in order to carry on the oldest brother’s line. His name was Onan – a name perhaps vaguely familiar to some of you who are male raised in conservative households. As a teenager someone may have warned you about the “sin of Onan...” Onan “spilled his seed on the ground” because, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to impregnate Tamar. But to be fruitful and multiply meant all sexual activity was for purpose of creating offspring. He wasted that opportunity. Plus, he was abdicating his responsibility. And so, as the story goes, he too was put to death by God. Two brothers down. There was only one brother left, but he was too young to marry. However, their father, Judah, was now scared of Tamar because in his mind, she had caused the death of his first two sons. There must be something wrong with her, not that his sons were wicked. So, Judah told Tamar he was sending his last son away but he’d be back when he was old enough. All she could do is wait and hope that Judah kept his promise. She couldn’t marry anyone else because her dead husband still had an unmarried brother. That would be adultery, and for that she would be stoned. Though Tamar was legally the responsibility of Judah, he pushed her out of his house and forced her back to her father’s house, but her family didn’t want her because they didn’t have any responsibility for her any more. Where does that leave Tamar? When the youngest son was finally old enough to marry her, she figured out that Judah was never going to allow it. As a woman she had no standing to sue and she can’t confront Judah in public. She came up with an ingenious way to get her husband’s family to do right by her. Judah’s wife died. Tamar waited and when the time was right, she exchanged her widows’ clothing for something that covered her face and signaled that she was available for a “night on the town.” With his wife dead for a while, Tamar figured the man would be, “amenable to some activity.” And sure enough, Judah saw her alongside the road and invited her into his tent. They negotiated the price of her services. He offered to bring her a goat but she wanted to make sure she actually got paid. So, for security, he agreed to give her his signet, cord and staff. A signet is like a ring you put into hot wax to seal a contract. It’s your signature. No two people have exactly the same. It’s not something you would ever want to give up, which shows how motivated he was to engage her services. About three months later Judah was told that his daughter-in-law was engaged in “whoredom” and was now pregnant. He’s outraged and declares that she should be stoned for adultery. He also wants Tamar burned to death, as proper punishment for having “killed” his two sons. That’s when she presented Judah’s signet, cord, and staff. He’s busted! Obviously, he reneged on that goat he promised. And now he is under penalty of death because “you shall not uncover the nakedness of your daughter-in-law.” But, not surprisingly, he grants her forgiveness. How grand! Of course, it was to save his own skin, but he proclaimed that she was right to trick him because he had first transgressed her by refusing his son. And we think our Thanksgiving tables had some challenging relatives. Grandma Tamar lost two husbands and was denied the third, she was banished to her father’s house who refused any responsibility for her, posed as a prostitute and bore her father-in-law’s child. Enormous risk, incredible danger, and what an embarrassment. But she not only figured out how to survive, she got justice from Judah and held him accountable for his actions. It’s brilliant. There are only five women named in the 42 generations from Abraham to Jesus – all of whom were among unwed mothers, prostitutes, adulterers, schemers, and extortionists. Or foreigners in mixed marriages outside their cultures and religions... All of them, brave and brilliant women who nevertheless persisted until their fortunes were reversed – all of them the perfect grandmas and great, great, great, great-grandmas of Jesus. Perfect, because while Jesus was still in her womb, Mary proclaimed: My soul magnifies the Lord. With this child, God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty handed. With grandmas like Tamar and Rahab and Ruth and Bathsheba, and a mother like Mary, Jesus was destined to eat in the homes of tax collectors and prostitutes, to come to the aid of a woman caught in adultery, to share the good news that he was the Messiah to a woman who had been married five times and now living with another man. These are the hidden treasures buried in all those boring verses of begetting and begatting and begotting genealogy. Such amazing good news: there is room for everyone’s story. When you hear someone say we need to get back to traditional morality, these women are the biblical folks with the true family values: To understand difficult life circumstances, not judge them. To recognize what it takes to survive in this world and offer unconditional love. To hear someone’s story and remind them, there is room for you in the people of God. So, dear sad and confused, dear stuck and abused Dear end-of-your-rope, dear worn out and broke Dear go-it-alone, dear running from home Dear righteously angry, dear forsaken by family Dear jaded and quiet, dear tough and defiant[1] There is room for everyone’s story. For the anxious and depressed, The unseen last and the least For the workers, the hungry and houseless For the lonely and recently spouseless For the queers and their closeted peers For the bullied who hold back their tears For the mothers of little Black sons And the kids who grow up scared of guns For the addicts, the ashamed and hungover For the calloused, the wisened, the sober For the ones who just want life to be over Your stories matter. Your stories are honored. You, too, are very much a part of the family tree of Jesus. [1] Words from the song Plowshare Prayer by Spencer LaJoye
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rmons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 20, 2022 “What Are You Building?” Isaiah 65: 17-25 –Common English Bible Look! I’m creating a new heaven and a new earth: past events won’t be remembered; they won’t come to mind. 18 Be glad and rejoice forever in what I’m creating, because I’m creating Jerusalem as a joy and her people as a source of gladness. 19 I will rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad about my people. No one will ever hear the sound of weeping or crying in it again. 20 No more will babies live only a few days, or the old fail to live out their days. The one who dies at a hundred will be like a young person, and the one falling short of a hundred will seem cursed. 21 They will build houses and live in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. 22 They won’t build for others to live in, nor plant for others to eat. Like the days of a tree will be the days of my people; my chosen will make full use of their handiwork. 23 They won’t labor in vain, nor bear children to a world of horrors, because they will be people blessed by the Lord, they along with their descendants. 24 Before they call, I will answer; while they are still speaking, I will hear. 25 Wolf and lamb will graze together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, but the snake—its food will be dust. They won’t hurt or destroy at any place on my holy mountain, says the Lord. The Israelites lived in exile for 70 years. They were taken by force to live in a foreign land as captives, forced to sing the songs of Zion along the river bank while their instruments hung from the trees. But eventually they adjusted, life became routine, if not even normal. Couples were married, babies were born, houses were built. Like many immigrant families, life is different but humans are resilient and create home wherever they are. After a few years, new ideas become traditions – we have new ways that we’ve always done it. Yet, I can imagine never fully losing the longing to return to your “real” home. As the decades moved on, increasingly these were only memories for a small few, yet the topic of vivid stories told to the young, handed down generation to generation. And now they’re actually returning home, on their way back from Babylon. What joy to wander past the streams you’ve heard about all your life, to walk on the roads described in those stories, seeing what your grandparents saw. But what they found was not beautiful homes and bountiful gardens and fields with amber waves of grain. It looked like a garbage dump. Their houses were crumbled. The fields were choked with thorns and weeds and scattered piles of rubble. And most significantly, the Temple, the beautiful, glorious Temple built by King Solomon that had stood for 400 years was in complete and total ruin. There was no more Zion about which to sing the old songs. What a heart-breaking scene. I visited Sri Lanka in 2019. One of the areas I went to was the city of Jaffna on the northern coast, the area that had been controlled by the Tamil Tigers during the 30-year nationwide civil war. It was now 10 years after the war and it was plainly obvious which buildings had bullet holes patched and which ones were newly built, with lots of empty lots in between. But it was in the rural areas outside the city that one saw the worst destruction. For miles in every direction, every single home had been bulldozed during the war or burned out. I didn’t fully appreciate the scene until the night I stayed in a brand-new guest house and met a family at breakfast who, like many, had escaped to Canada. It had been a rough day for them. They were back for the first time to see what was left of their home. They found one wall standing. The trees were gone. Weeds choked out anything they had planted. But they were determined to rebuild. After all, it had been their family home for generations. Later that day I met another man who had also made a new life for his family in Canada. Like my brother, he was a long-haul trucker. This man’s route that extended from Toronto to Vancouver and kept him away from home for weeks at a time. He too was back for his first visit. But when he saw his family home in ruins, he decided to go back to Canada instead of rebuild. Today my heart breaks for the Ukrainian refugees around the world longing to return home. Who knows how long it will be. But what will they find when they turn the corner onto their old block? What will be left? They’ve already seen news coverage of their cities leveled, their hospitals bombed, their bridges crumbled, parents weeping over their children. Throughout human history, these kinds of things have played out too many times, whether in world wars or natural disasters. But humans also have a long history of rebuilding. Look, says God, I’m creating a new heaven and a new earth. Isaiah speaks directly to rebuilding in vivid ways that could be easily understood from their lived experience: You will eat the fruit of the vineyards you plant. You will build houses and live in them. In many ways we are rebuilding after the pandemic and all the disruption of church life. Unfortunately, too many churches are not rebuilding but rather closing, including my beloved home church in North Dakota of which I speak so often. Experts say that the pandemic only quickened the pace of what was already happening. If a church was growing pre-pandemic, it’s growing now. If it was in decline, the decline is faster and is now in high speed; not necessarily a decline in spirit or ministry, but in size, at the end of last year, half of UCC churches reported 103 members or fewer. Half of UCC churches now have 40 or fewer people in worship; half have more than 40. For context, we are larger than 93% of UCC congregations in the whole state of California. As we rebuild post-pandemic, what are we building? Once upon a time, a traveler came across three stonecutters. The traveler went up to the first one and asked, “What are you doing.” He didn’t look up and said, “I’m making a living” and kept working. A few steps further, a second stonecutter was asked what she was doing. Standing up straight and tall, “I’m striving to be the best stonecutter in the city.” A few steps further, a third was asked, “What are you doing?” “I am building a cathedral!” What are we doing here? Today is the conclusion of the annual tradition of a stewardship campaign. How long has this been “the way we’ve always done it” way? It wasn’t done this way in the early years of our parent church, First Congregational. It wasn’t until the late 1890s that the first stewardship campaigns began in city churches among people who had steady incomes and regular employment. Before, a church may have had a few wealthy patrons but not a system that included everyone. Or churches might sell or rent pews. When someone says, “You’re sitting in my pew,” at one point that was literally true. The larger the gift, the closer you sat to the pulpit. Of course, some might have preferred the reverse. If you go back far enough in American history, some Congregational churches were supported by taxes. It was in post-war Protestant churches in the 1950s that modern stewardship campaigns became commonplace, complete with the little envelopes in a box, one for each week. Do you remember those? Does anyone remember the first envelope in the box? It asked for a donation to pay for the box of envelopes. As churches moved to the suburbs in the 1950s they adopted systems and complex structures of boards and committees and funding mechanisms that reflected modern corporations. Stewardship in the 1960s continued to evolve, adding the idea of time, talent, and treasure that became popular and helped make stewardship more inclusive of many gifts. However, by the 1990s and 2000s, stewardship campaigns from the 1950s began to lose their ability to inspire and meet the needs of churches, yet nothing really caught on to replace them. Online giving has helped tremendously, though a side effect is that many post-pandemic churches have stopped passing an offering plate during worship. Giving is central to worship. Generosity is our response to the Gospel. Money isn’t, however, or shouldn’t be, the sole focus of stewardship. After all, stewardship has to do with every aspect of life. The stewardship of our bodies through healthy living. What are we eating? How much exercise are we getting? Or the stewardship of creation, an earth upon which future generations may live. What are we doing to keep our air clean, our oceans from being polluted, to stop the extinction of species. All of this is stewardship, but in many minds, stewardship means a financial campaign every fall – just like today. The question is appropriately asked, what is the goal of a stewardship campaign?
Three stonecutters working on the same project were asked, “What are you doing?” The first stonecutter was making a living. And it’s absolutely necessary to take care of our family. Of course, a budget should be a goal. The second stonecutter was becoming the best at her craft. We too should aspire to do our best to honor God. And so, of course, funding this should be a goal. The third stonecutter said they were building a cathedral. They were also making a living, striving to do their best, but what is a cathedral? Perhaps it’s a building, but really, its purpose is something of lasting beauty for generations, something transcendent, beyond ourselves, that takes our gaze upward, intended to glorify God. Our stewardship goal should be nothing less than the glory of God, but not for ostentatious reasons. Irenaeus said the glory of God is human beings fully alive. All human beings fully alive, characterized as a world
It is a vision of San Diego today that gives glory to God – health care for children and seniors; wellbeing for families with food enough and shelter enough; the end of bullying and peace among nations and among the people of our nation. This is not only the hope of a rebuilt Jerusalem thousands of years ago but the hope of San Diego today. Yes, we need sufficient budget for our programs. But only the transformation of our lives in response to the gospel will change the world. One stone at a time. What are you building? Is it a cathedral? Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 13, 2022 “All the Good You Can” Malachi 4: 1-2 –Common English Bible Look, the day is coming, burning like an oven. All the arrogant ones and all those doing evil will become straw. The coming day will burn them, says the Lord of heavenly forces, leaving them neither root nor branch. 2 But the sun of righteousness will rise on those revering my name; healing will be in its wings so that you will go forth and jump about like calves in the stall. Cheerful way to begin, right?! “The day is coming when all the arrogant ones and all those doing evil will become straw.” Would you like to hear an even more cheerful translation? “The day is coming when all the arrogant people who do evil things will be burned up like wood for the stove, burned to a crisp, nothing left but scorched earth and ash.” Luke 21 isn’t much happier. Nations fighting each other. People trying to deceive you. Wars and rebellions, terrifying sights and great signs in the sky… In other words, times that are deeply unsettling. Texts like these are uncomfortable. They’re like a family member we’d like to hide in the closet to avoid embarrassing visitors. Uncomfortable, that is, unless you are living under an existential threat of survival; then these words from Malachi might deliver comfort. As rockets rain down on your city in Ukraine, perhaps no words could be more hopeful. As you sit in jail in Myanmar for your pro-democracy activities, hearing what will come for your tormentors may give you the encouragement you need for one more day. But as a philosophy for life, nothing could be more hopeless, especially in a world that too conveniently divides people into us and them. The emotional satisfaction of proclaiming that the arrogant ones will become crispy is only temporary. It might get us through the night, but what do we do in the morning? Religious texts like these take us back thousands of years – through wars and famines and plagues and persecution. In many ways it’s reassuring to know that there’s nothing new under the sun. We may have vastly different worldviews and interpret the times differently, but to remember that there are bullies in every age who create fear and division gives us perspective. To remember, the truth is, tyrants and despots arise and can be put down. The Bible is clear that inequalities against the many are created and sustained for the few in every generation and so Jesus knew what we are facing. And what did the pioneer and perfecter of our faith teach? But first, perhaps it would be helpful to know what Malachi was talking about 500 years before Jesus. What were the problems in his day?
Again, religious texts remind us there are bullies in every age that create fear, division, and inequalities. Malachi offered one answer which can be hopeful, for a moment. Satisfying, temporarily. But that’s not the world I want to live in. It’s not the message we need in a world as divided and polarized as ours. Jesus offered a different kind of prophetic message in his time and for all times: love your enemies, and pray for those who inflict pain. Jesus doesn’t deny that there are bullies and tyrants and evil-doers in the world, but what do we do with them? Steve Garnaas-Holmes offers a challenge. And you might agree, a really hard one. What do you think? The more monstrous a person’s evil, the more evil their monsters, the more unable they are to overcome them. They need you. Pray for their redemption. If you want peace in the world If you want justice for all the oppressed For the abused and enslaved and trafficked, Then, most of all, you want the redemption of all wrongdoers. God’s great justice is not revenge. That’s too cheap, too human, too small. No, God’s justice is actual harmony and fullness of life for everybody. Not payback, that endless loop, But transformation (which is harder). Pray for the bad guys, Even the tyrants and torturers, that with love God will wrench them out of their hell And deliver us all.[1] Malachi’s last word wasn’t about evil people but the promise that the sun of righteousness will rise, bringing healing in its wings. A time so joyful you can picture it just like young calves frisky and frolicking. It’s a calling. Fire and brimstone is not the answer to God’s justice. Justice is not revenge, it’s repair. In deeply unsettling and anxious times like ours, our invitation is to repair the breach. How? What can individuals like you and me do? I love the simple, practical words of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism. He answers how this way: Do all the good you can By all the means you can In all the ways you can In all the places you can At all the times you can To all the people you can As long as ever you can. If anything should be a personal creed, that’s it. And if anything could be a good mission statement for a church, that’s it.
And how much better it is to do all the good you can with a religious community by your side, on your side. I thank God for this community of faith, this church, because, I can, through you.
Because God can. And God does. As our stewardship theme says, “from bread and cup to faith and giving,” God provides and replenishes daily so that together we will Do all the good we can By all the means we can In all the ways we can In all the places we can At all the times we can To all the people we can As long as ever we can. [1] www.unfoldinglight.net Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 6, 2022 “Perpetually Free” Luke 20: 27-30 –Common English Bible 27 Some Sadducees, who deny that there’s a resurrection, came to Jesus and asked, 28 “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies leaving a widow but no children, the brother must marry the widow and raise up children for his brother.[a] 29 Now there were seven brothers. The first man married a woman and then died childless. 30 The second 31 and then the third brother married her. Eventually all seven married her, and they all died without leaving any children. 32 Finally, the woman died too. 33 In the resurrection, whose wife will she be? All seven were married to her.” 34 Jesus said to them, “People who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage. 35 But those who are considered worthy to participate in that age, that is, in the age of the resurrection from the dead, won’t marry nor will they be given in marriage. 36 They can no longer die, because they are like angels and are God’s children since they share in the resurrection. 37 Even Moses demonstrated that the dead are raised—in the passage about the burning bush, when he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.[b] 38 God isn’t the God of the dead but of the living. To God they are all alive.” Did anyone come to church today in a black car? Good thing we don’t live in Denver. It’s illegal to drive a black car in Denver on Sunday. Or at least, at some point in the past, a law was written and passed that is still on the books. Every locale or state has a version of their own absurd laws. Some are strangely specific, like, in South Dakota it’s illegal to sleep in a cheese factory overnight. In Salt Lake City, you’re not allowed to carry your violin in a paper bag. In some cases, you can guess what prompted the law: Like, in Louisiana, it’s against the law to have a pizza delivered to an unsuspecting neighbor. But what happened to explain why there is a law in Iowa that a one-handed piano player must perform for free?[1] But my favorite: In Massachusetts, it’s illegal to try and “stop a child from playfully jumping over puddles of water.” Some laws are funny, but many others still on the books are disturbing. For example, it’s illegal for a woman to cut her hair without her husband’s permission in Michigan. Obviously, it’s no longer enforced, but it’s one of a million examples of legislated patriarchy. From biblical times forward, men have written laws to tell women what they are allowed or not allowed to do, often making women the butt of their jokes along the way, like the Sadducees who thought it was funny to imagine a woman forced to endure the death of a spouse seven times. The Bible has plenty of laws or rules we might think are absurd, or at least, outdated. Some about hygiene. Some were dietary laws. Some laws helped to shape a common identity. And some laws sought to protect vulnerable citizens, like widows and orphans and immigrants. That could make sense in our passage today: If a man dies and leaves a wife but no child, his brother is obligated to marry the widow. Except that as scholars note, the purpose of this particular obscure law quoted from Deuteronomy was not to protect the woman but a way to raise up children for the eldest brother – in essence, giving him eternal life.[2] It had much more to do in protecting the patriarchy than any vulnerable person. Then the Sadducees posed the absurd extension of this law, “Tell us, Teacher: There were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman died. In the resurrection, whose wife will she be?” With their legally conceivable but callously absurd scenario, they weren’t asking a question in order to gain knowledge or better understanding. The Sadducees were attempting to trick Jesus or entrap him, but he had already proved adept at resisting their traps. For example, he had just brilliantly answered the question about paying taxes. He risked upsetting either the Roman authorities or the religious leaders. Instead Jesus said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, give to God what is God’s.” Everyone stood silenced with their mouths open. That’s when they came back with the woman and those seven deceased brothers – whose wife will she be? Jesus was just as wise and calm. Avoiding their question, Jesus talks about the purpose of marriage which, he said, in this life is temporal and fleeting, to propagate the race and provide companionship. But in the age to come, there is no longer any need for that. The question of marriage in eternity is moot. They have better things to think about. And hint, hint, Sadducees, you should have better things to think about too. Instead of debating or defending the idea of resurrection to people who don’t believe in it, Jesus simply described “an age to come in which people are not dead.” The Sadducees referenced Moses so Jesus turned it back on them. At the burning bush, Moses called God the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” It only makes sense, Jesus told them, that since God is not the God of a bunch of dead people, to God, these people are not dead. They are still alive. And with that, once again, Jesus stumped the religious authorities who vowed to never ask him another question. It may seem like Jesus was just splitting legal hairs, but he raised a very important question to many of us. It’s a sincere question, especially on All Saints Day. What happens to the people we love when they die? Are they OK? More than anything, I just want to know, are they happy? My nephew Ryan David was killed in a tragic farm accident when he was 2 years old. The pastor at Ryan’s funeral explained that “God took him because he wanted another flower in his garden.” I wanted to scream and get up and walk out. Instead, one of my sisters and I held our breath and held each other’s hands so hard we could have broken each other’s fingers. We were supposedly “comforted” with the idea that “his soul was too pure for this world.” Setting that aside, however, I wonder, is Ryan perpetually two years old, never progressing beyond a sandbox? On earth, Ryan would now be 37 years old. Is he forever unmarried? On the other hand, my dad lived a long life. He was a good but not perfect man, who worked very hard to take care of his family. He was active in his community and cared deeply for his church. He died at age 88. Is he living perpetually with a bad hip or did he revert back to a handsome young farmer? When my mom died about 10 years later, we comforted each other with visions of them reunited, sharing ice cream cones like the first time they met at a Sunday School picnic. But come to think of it, what if my mom had remarried after he died? Or what if they had divorced during one of the more difficult periods in the middle of their marriage? What would such a heavenly reunion look like? Could be kind of messy. From Jesus’ description of marriage in the coming age, such things won’t matter. For some that’s a relief, free from a repeat of painful relationships, and for others perhaps a source of grief, who do not wish to be “free.” The Sadducees believed in the original understanding of Sheol – the dead are dead. That’s it. Jesus proclaims to them, however, life continues, but free from the constraints that exist in this life. That’s great, although to be honest, it’s also a little sad if some of the “constraints” were things, especially people, we loved. Just remember, in the resurrection, the woman will be free from being told to marry any one of the seven dead brothers. That’s good news for her and good news for us because to God, our ancestors are not dead. They are still alive, free. They are free, like angels. Most days I don’t care if there is an afterlife or a heaven or not. I often think heaven is a distraction – promising it to some, denying it to others. Or it’s an excuse to let injustice continue because they will get theirs in heaven. We should live in the present, not for the future. But there are days when it’s not a distraction, when I need it to be very real. I remember a conversation with a woman whose husband died. She was a scientist and content that life ended when we die. She hadn’t believed in heaven when he was alive and didn’t think she needed one now. She thought it was mere sentimentality. But one day she told me she needed to picture him somewhere; that to imagine him simply not existing anymore wasn’t working. I asked her when he was the most content and at ease. It was when he was standing in the Gulf of Mexico wearing waders and fishing. Now he’s in heaven and she’s at peace. For the Sadducees, life ended. That was that. I can almost imagine them scolding a child for playfully jumping over puddles of water. Instead, Jesus points to a God whose faithfulness to us and to our loved ones stretches beyond time on earth, a God of infinity, in whom we all live and move and have our being, but not limited to just now, forevermore. Are our departed loved ones OK? Are they happy? What I know is that they are perpetually free. [1] http://ijr.com/2014/12/222618-50-state-laws/ [2] The New Interpreters Study Bible |
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March 2024
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