God's Not Fair...Thank God!

'When God saw what the people of Nineveh did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

But this was very displeasing to Jonah, and he became angry. He prayed to the LORD and said, “O LORD! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. And now, O LORD, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live.” And the LORD said, “Is it right for you to be angry?” Then Jonah went out of the city and sat down east of the city, and made a booth for himself there. He sat under it in the shade, waiting to see what would become of the city.

The LORD God appointed a bush, and made it come up over Jonah, to give shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort; so Jonah was very happy about the bush. But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the bush, so that it withered. When the sun rose, God prepared a sultry east wind, and the sun beat down on the head of Jonah so that he was faint and asked that he might die. He said, “It is better for me to die than to live.”

But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?” And he said, “Yes, angry enough to die.” Then the LORD said, “You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?”'

--Jonah 3: 10-4: 11

'Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ 

So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”'

--Matthew 20: 1-16

One of the greatest lessons I learned from The Princess Bride, one of the defining films of my generation, is that life isn’t fair, and anyone who says differently is selling something. I also learned to never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line, and that tv used to be called books. Despite that lesson, I can’t help but notice that we tend to try to make society fair, to make it so that people get what they deserve, what they’ve earned, at least by our standards.

As you wish.

The Scriptures, however, often remind us that while we reap, we sow, we take, and we serve, nobody gets what they deserve, to borrow a line from my favorite songwriter. The stories of our faith are often of folks who are outcasts and on the margins, rejected and labeled as underserving of divine love. They remind us regularly that God’s ways so often are not our ways, and our stories from both the Book of Jonah and Gospel of Matthew illustrate this point.  

We find the reluctant prophet Jonah at the very end of his story.  Though he fought tooth and nail, he finally accepted God’s call to preach hellfire and damnation to the people of Ninevah, who were a sinful and deplorable lot. due in no small part to Nineveh being the capital of the Assyrian Empire, the folks who had just recently invaded Israel and taken the people into exile.  

Any of you – or your kids – watched the VeggieTales Jonah movie? It describes the people of Nineveh being so bad that they slapped people with fishes! Yet after Jonah’s prophesy, in which he stated that God would destroy them in 40 days, something happens. God’s mind is changed when the people genuinely repent of their sins, and God decides to spare them.  Now they’re likely to kill Jonah for being a false prophet. He’s terrified and curses God.  Ninevah deserved to be destroyed, they only repented at the very end. It doesn’t seem fair.

Fish-slappers of Nineveh.

Fast forward to the Gospel and Jesus, once again, using a parable to try and explain what the kingdom of God is like.  He compares it to a vineyard and God to the vineyard’s owner.  Needing folks to tend to the vineyard—to grow the kingdom—the landowner—God—enlists laborers early in the morning.  Then later in the day at noon, and 3:00, the landowner enlists more help, and then finally does so again late in the evening before dark.  When it comes time for payment those who only worked an hour get paid first, followed by the ones who worked half of the day, and finally the ones who worked the whole day, all the same amount.  But didn’t the ones who worked the whole day deserve more?  Weren’t they more faithful, more dedicated?  The landowner’s response is that everyone gets the same amount, everyone is rewarded, even those who didn’t work as long, because the landowner says so. Is that fair?

A priest I knew years ago started a sermon on these readings by saying, “Thank God that God’s not fair!” And it’s true. God isn’t fair, at least not by our standards. We operate out of a mindset that people get what they deserve, that those who work harder and suffer longer should receive more. That seems fair. We are taught about such fairness from an early age, but are we taught grace? Fairness has little to do with the Kingdom Jesus talks about, a Kingdom that welcomes all, even those we think don’t deserve it, even those who didn’t “earn” it. That’s grace.

Fairness is something I suspect we all want to believe it, but in the pursuit of what’s fair we too often are cruel when perhaps we should be generous. Churches at times treat those who have been members the longest with the highest regard, bestowing on them positions on vestries and as ministry chairs, but when someone new feels a call to leadership, the refrain is so often, “You haven’t been here long enough, and it’s not fair to those who’ve put in their time.” 

A very real concern for people of my generation and younger is student loan forgiveness. The debate fails because of the thinking that it is isn’t fair for someone who worked hard to pay off their loans to be asked to help someone else who can’t – nevermind that the average cost of even a public four-year degree has nearly doubled since the turn of the millennium, according to EducationData.org. So much of how we relate to one another, it seems, is predicated on our standards for what’s fair, what we believe someone deserves.

These standards are based on a meritocracy, the idea that a person’s position in a society is due to their abilities and talents; if you’re rich it’s because you earned it, you deserve it. What then does that say about being poor, especially when the wealthiest among us commonly didn’t earn it but were privileged with being born into wealth?  

The Kingdom of heaven is not a meritocracy. It is based on grace. One doesn’t earn the Kingdom. It simply is given because of God’s love. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what grace is. It’s the free gift God gives in saving the horrible people of Nineveh, and it’s the same standard wage that the landowner in the parable gives even to the ones who worked for just one hour. There’s no judging who is more deserving of grace. As theologian Amy-Jill Levine writes in Short Stories by Jesus, even well-meaning church folk will often ask questions of those in need to determine if they deserve it, questions like, “Do you have a job?” or “Are you saved?” but Jesus tends to ask things like, “Do you have shelter and enough food for you and your children?”

We’ve all heard the phrase, “earn a living,” but I see in these readings from Scripture today the utter absurdity of that saying. Living is not to be earned, but so many of us spend our whole lives trying to do so because we were taught that that’s how the world works. Well, that ain’t how God works! And church folk are the ones called to model God’s radical love and abundant hospitality to the rest of the world. Are we freely giving to those who we may otherwise feel don’t deserve it? Are we welcoming the folks who’ve been here three weeks the same as we would those who’ve been here for 30 years? Rather than worrying what others are getting or what they deserve, or the unfairness of a God that blesses all and calls us to do the same, what if we had eyes to see the good gifts God has already bestowed and used them to care for our fellow laborers in the field, no questions asked? 

Seeing the world with Kingdom Eyes changes literally everything. It changes our relationship to money, to other people, to God, and to our own sense of self-worth. It changes our concepts of fairness and the idea that we get what we deserve, what we’ve earned. Another lesson from The Princess Bride is that true love doesn’t happen everyday. Well, it does in the Kingdom. It does when it’s God’s love, rooted in grace and freely given. It does when we live more into God’s Kingdom than the one of our own making. It’s not always “fair.” And thank God for that! 

Real Forgiveness

'Peter came and said to Jesus, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”'

--Matthew 18: 21-35

I was not a math major. Had I been, I'd be an engineer now instead of a priest! Three=one, that’s about all the math I need. But I do know that 77 is more than seven, and I know Greek, so I know that the actual Greek words said by Jesus equate to “70 times seven,” which math says is 490.  Too many numbers for my taste! What does it all mean? And what’s it got to do with real, honest-to-God “forgiveness?”

To forgive someone seven times was considered a lot in Jesus’ day. Simon Peter didn’t come up with that number off the top of his head. He was kinda showing off. According to tradition, as later written in the Jewish Talmud, seven is the number of times a person was obligated to forgive anyone who asked. It wasn’t the minimum, it was the limit. Up to seven times, as Simon Peter asks. Put into a historical context – especially considering surrounding cultures that we encounter in the Bible like the Babylonians, Assyrians, and Romans, whose value systems were based on vengeance and retribution – having a God who instructed people to forgive at all, let alone up to seven times, seemed pretty generous, if not radical. 

Jesus comes back, though, and says that the number to forgive someone is 77 times, according to our New Revised Standard Version, or, as I mentioned, the original Greek says, “70 times seven.” This, too, is intentional. Way, way back in the Book of Genesis, chapter 4, the great-great-great-grandson of Cain, a man named Lamech, killed someone and declared that, quoting the NRSV again, “If Cain is avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech is 77-fold.” Seven is the number associated with God and eternity in Hebrew, while 70 is associated with perfection.. So by declaring that one should forgive up to 77 – or “70 times seven” – Jesus is mirroring the vengeful pronouncement of Lamech, but flipping it. He’s reminding his audience – who would’ve understood the significance of those numbers – that the ethic of Cain, one of violence and vengeance to those who you believe have done you wrong, is superseded by God’s ethic of mercy and forgiveness. 

To illustrate his point Jesus tells the story of a man who owes an astronomical amount of money in debt: 10,000 talents.  To give you some perspective, that is the equivalent of a day’s worth of wages for 150,000 years!  It’s more than the annual budget of the entire Roman province where these folks lived. It’s hyperbole. The point is that it’s an unplayable debt. When this man shows contrition, the one he owes forgives him the unplayable debt, undoubtedly expecting that he would do the same. But when that first man encounters someone who owes him a much more reasonable debt, he seeks vengeance and retribution. The parables’s message seems clear: forgive as you are forgiven.

An Eastern icon depicting the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant.

This sounds easy enough, but there’s a lot that goes unsaid here about the nature of “forgiveness” in an ancient Jewish context that perhaps those of us hearing the story today may not catch because the text takes it for granted. For example, it was common knowledge that the instruction about forgiving debts – whether the injury was financial or moral – was contingent upon a person admitting the wrong and seeking the other person’s forgiveness. And even when a person demonstrated such remorse, they may not immediately be granted the forgiveness they sought; in fact, the Torah stated that a person could deny their wrongdoer forgiveness up to three times. After that, however, if they didn’t forgive the offender, they were considered guilty of a greater sin. So the instruction to forgive as many times as it takes assumes contrition on the part of the wrongdoer. But what do you do when there is no contrition, no admittance of wrongdoing?

Forgiveness in the context of God’s grace, freely bestowed to all and never earned, is one of the greatest gifts that God gives us. Sadly, the concept of “forgiveness” often becomes so distorted in the context of the modern Church that those who are experiencing real harm are told to “just forgive,” without any further examination as to whether the harm has stopped, or whether the person causing the harm has shown any real understanding of their behavior, much less genuine contrition. Often in churches forgiveness becomes weaponized as a way of maintaining the status quo, protecting those in power while putting the onus on the victim to pretend like all is fine. People who are caught in cycles of abuse – especially when the abuse is more psychological than physical – are too often counseled by well-meaning pastors, spiritual directors, and church friends to “forgive and forget," which nearly always leads to further the abuse continuing. 

We see this play out on a larger scale as well, when church leaders or politicians are publicly called out for immoral and even downright criminal behavior, and they respond with half-hearted “non-apologies” – saying they’re sorry if anyone was offended, or reminding everyone that they aren’t perfect (but who is?). They ask forgiveness with their words, but they are focused much more on maintaining their public image than the actual impact of their behavior on others. There is clearly no contrition there, no acknowledgement of the harm and then asking for forgiveness. They want those who were harmed to deny their experience and stop telling the truth about it. 

That is not forgiveness. That’s just denial. Last week I talked about conflict and the importance of “caring enough to confront.” Whether we are the one on the receiving end of harm, or the one who has wronged another, forgiveness requires us to accept the reality of our situation. The goal is not to forgive and forget,  but to understand and remember, and then choose a path of mercy. 

That doesn’t necessarily mean staying in relationship with someone who has wronged you. Interestingly, the Greek word used here for “forgive” – ἀφίημι– in a literal sense means “to leave,” “to send away, dismiss, or set free.” Real forgiveness means becoming free from the cycles of vengeance and violence that often keep us bound to unhealthy relationships. It’s about letting go of the power to harm. 

The Gospel was paired this week with the story of Joseph from the final chapter of Genesis. That story connects with the parable of forgiveness that Jesus offers.  If you recall back in chapter 37 of Genesis, Joseph’s brothers nearly killed him and then sold him into slavery, actions that resulted in a famine. Now that their father has died, Joseph is in a position of power over them: he has access to an abundance of food in Egypt, whereas they are starving in Canaan. The brothers beg his forgiveness, afraid for their lives that Joseph will repair them for what they had done. 

Joseph has a choice. In an ancient Egyptian context, he would have been well within his rights to enact some sort of vengeance upon them, but he chooses forgiveness. Joseph points out that like their forefather Cain, they are motivated by fear, jealousy, and power, But God is always motivated by restoration, and the promise of new life. By choosing to “forgive” his brothers, he is not denying or “forgetting” the harm that was done to him – on the contrary, he names it as a way of highlighting God’s power to turn even the most hopeless situation to good. Joseph’s forgiveness sets all of them free of the cycle of violence. It doesn’t mean that he gives them the opportunity to hurt him again. It means that he relinquishes his right to hurt them back. 

Understanding how to forgive means understanding how power works in the context of relationships. This is true for families, for communities, for every system of every kind. Naming the harm is important and needed if there is to be a true Biblical ethic of forgiveness.

The hope presented in the Joseph story is that God can and does bring meaning from suffering, even if it takes a long time. The hope presented by Jesus is that, rather than meeting harm with vengeance, we can leave it, send it away, and be free of the power that it has over us. It’s not about forgetting. It’s about remembering, and releasing, and restoring, and redeeming, which God can always do

Thou Shalt Not Triangulate!!

'Jesus said, “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”'

--Matthew 18: 15-20

The great philosopher Homer Simpson once said, “The problem with most relationships is com-munication…too much communication!”  This occurs in the season 10 episode I’m with Cupid, and, of course, Homer says this sitting on the couch with a beer, while his wife Marge is scrambling with everyday housework and papers and basically trying to keep the family intact.  Homer comments that everyone else's marriage is falling apart except theirs. That's because, as far as Homer is concerned, there are no conflicts or problems because they don't communicate about them. Spoiler alert though, there definitely are conflicts and problems in the Simpson household!

Homer, not THAT one!

It’s been said by counselors and therapists and pastors countless times that the key to any relation-ship, is communication.  One of the things that the Gospel writers set out to do was to lay the groundwork of a Christian ethic for this fledging new thing called the Church. Jesus had come and gone, so as they wrote years after the fact, these communities wanted to give Jesus words that would steer them in ethical and moral directions when it came to being in relationship.  In the case of this week's Gospel from Matthew we get the Christian ethic for what to do when conflicts arise.  

The key, Jesus says, is communication. When someone in your community offends you – and notice that he doesn’t say if, but when – this is what you are to do. First, go to the person directly and try to settle the issue one-on-one. If that doesn’t work, take a couple of witnesses with you – this is in-keeping with Deuteronomy, chapter 19, you take at least two because just one isn’t reliable. If that doesn’t work, you take the issue to the wider community, maybe to the Vestry or some other council. And finally, even if this effort is unsuccessful, then go all out with the ultra-deluxe package and treat the offender the same as a tax collector or a Gentile; that is, how Jesus treats them, which, of course, means like one of your own kin. This isn’t to say that there are no consequences for their offense – after all, back in chapter 10 of this Gospel he told the apostles that there would be occasions when they’d be wounded so badly that they would have to walk away from a relationship, shaking the dust from their feet – yet compassion and mercy must still remain in the believer’s heart.

Conflict, Jesus makes very clear, is inevitable. It can’t be avoided, and to ignore it is not in-keeping with the Christian ethic. It’s not what Jesus would do. Sorry, Homer. There’s no such thing as too much communication when it comes to conflict, it should be addressed directly. Or, as we might put it in the language of the 1O Commandments: thou shalt not triangulate! 

If you are unfamiliar with triangulation, it works something like this:  

• Person A has a conflict with Person B. 
• Instead of going to that person directly, Person A goes to Person C. 
• Person A tells Person C that they have a problem with Person B.
• Person A tells Person C not to let Person A know about their problem, maintaining anonymity. 
• Person C tells Person B "some people have a problem" but doesn't elaborate further.

No only does this entrap Person C in the triangle but Person B often doesn't even know there is a problem because Person A never comes to Person B directly. In the book Beyond Business as Usual, Neal. O. Michell calls triangulation the “favoritist game the church likes to play.” Healthy, spiritually mature communities don’t play that game, and instead follow the instructions Jesus laid out to address conflict in a direct manner.

For some of us, though, confronting another feels almost wrong. We don’t want the other person to think we hate them. Even if it’s clear that there is some very not-ok behavior going on, the very perception that we could be “stirring up trouble” or that we won’t be believed causes us to remain silent. But silence, too, is not part of the Christian ethic of conflict resolution. Back in my chaplain days – which we all did before ordination in something called clinical pastoral education – we talked about caring enough to confront. That sounded like an oxymoron to me! To care for someone in a deep, real, meaningful way, does not mean staying silent when there is a problem, and it certainly does not mean letting our own frustration fester to the point of poisoning us. 

The goal is restoration, and this, I feel, has been lost on many of us, in our one-on-one relationships all the way up to more systemic ones such as how we treat those in prison. There’s a kind of schadenfruade, a happiness we feel seeing someone get what they deserve. An eye-for-eye, if you will. Yet even the prophet Ezekiel, speaking on behalf of God in one of our other readings for this week and calling out the sins and wickedness he sees – which are a lot -  ends his rant by saying that God’s desire is not punishment but that those who have hurt others will turn themselves around, turn back to God. In his letters St. Paul uses a Greek word – metanoia – which we translate as ‘repentance’ but means literally to turn oneself around. Too often we repay pain with pain. The hurt doesn’t get resolved, there is no restoration, because hurt people hurt people. When there is no triangulation, when communication is open and direct, when the goal of car-ing enough about someone to confront them is to restore the relationship, then the cycle of hurt can end, but only when all parties involved understand restoration to be the goal of any conflict.

This model for direct engagement with conflict, with a goal of restoration, is the hope that we have for all relationships – with partners, with families and friends, and our church community It is into this hope that we baptized Max Allyn Jirkiw at St. James' Church this week. He may not have known conflict so far in his precious life, but he will. And as he was made part of the Body of Christ today, this community promised to uphold him in what it means to be part of that Body, to love enough to confront with compassion and mercy, to know that restoration is possible, to remember that he can both forgive and be forgiven. It is a hope we all affirm for ourselves, as well, when we renew our Baptismal Covenant, promising that when – not if – we sin, we repent and return. 

In case you’re wondering, Marge does eventually care enough for Homer to confront him in that episode, not with bitterness and pain, but with compassion and mercy and love. And when he hears it Homer doesn’t get defensive, or go pull Bart or Lisa into the triangulation game, he listens. And he realizes what he has done wrong and pledges to do better. Imagine a church that used The Simpsons as a model for how to do relationship, huh? 

We may wish we could avoid conflict, but we’re people, and people are fraught. Max will be, if he isn’t already. Life in community would be easy if it weren’t for the people, am I right? But we can’t not be in community, and we can’t not avoid conflict. The focus, then, of any of our conflicts mustn’t be wining an argument but restoration, a return to the community and the source of that community, which of course is God. Relationships are neither loving nor healthy if all parties involved are not open, direct, and honest . May we all care enough to engage any of our conflicts, be they personal, communal, or systemic, with honest communication and an eye toward restoration. That is the Christian ethic, and that is Good News.

A diagram of triangulation.

A New Journey Begins

'Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?

“For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”'

--Matthew 16: 21-28

Where I come from everyone has a nickname, especially if you’re a ballplayer. There’s Ox, Nut, Sturg, Spooner, Doodle, Doc, and the King. Yes, I had a nickname, but you'll have to do some detective work to figure it out!

Often times nicknames become our real name. Most of those folks I mentioned go by their nicknames so often that, in some cases, I don’t even know their real names! Last week we heard the story of Simon bar Jonah getting a nickname. Jesus christened him Kephas in Aramaic, or as we better know him, Peter, which is Greek. Both mean “rock.” It is on the rock of Peter’s profession of Jesus as the Christ that the Church – big C – is founded.

And then, in the same encounter, this week Jesus gives him another nickname, and it’s not exactly an endearing one. After Simon Peter’s profession, Jesus explains to him and the other apostles how when they get to Jerusalem he will be handed over to the authorities, tortured, and eventually put to death. Well, Simon the Rock, speaking for the group insists, “God forbid it! This must never happen.” Seems like a rational response, doesn’t it? But Jesus doesn’t commend him this time but rather tells him, “Get behind me, Satan!” Yikes! I’m glad for Simon Peter’s sake that that nickname didn’t stick. 

In its purest form the word ‘Satan’ means ‘adversary’ or ‘prosecutor’ in Hebrew. It meant anyone or anything that got between God and God’s people. It wasn't until the deuterocanonical Book of Jubilees, written around 200-100 BC, that the word gets assigned to a single individual who commands fallen angels and tempts human beings. So, if we take the word literally in its context within the language and faith of the people of Israel, then Jesus is using it rightly in this instance. Jesus has made his mission very clear, and it’s one of downward mobility. He's going to Jerusalem, not to overthrow Rome, but to die on a cross. By stepping in and trying to prevent Jesus from going through with this mission, Simon Peter is, in fact, being a satan, an adversary.

But can we blame him? Simon Peter just wants to maintain the status quo. He doesn’t want Jesus to get hurt, sure, but on a deeper level, he doesn’t want things to change. Remember that this is the guy who wanted them to stay up on Mount Tabor when Jesus was transfigured. The harder he tries to keep things from changing, and the more he tries to hold on to the way things are the way he thinks they should be, though, the worse it gets for him, culminating with Simon Peter denying that he even knows who Jesus is. 

Or, to paraphrase a line from Princess Leia, the more he tightens his grip, the more the things he wants to hold onto slips through his fingers. 

As readers of this blog know by now, I have recently taken a new call as Interim Rector of St. James' Episcopal Church in Skaneateles, NY. And as I said to the folks in church on Sunday: Brothers and sisters, the work of an interim time, is to loosen our grip. 

Preaching my first sermon at St. James', Skaneateles on September 3

Last week The Rt. Rev. Skip Adams, retired Bishop of the Diocese of Central New York and member of St. James', mentioned in his sermon that the Church doesn’t have a mission. God does. Jesus was always attune to what God's mission was for him, and it is our prayer that we may be so attuned ourselves. We pray to have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to receive that mission, and for hands and feet to be put into actions so that the mission may be lived out in an ever-changing and confusing world. That’s what discernment is about.  Discernment is that stilling of our hearts, minds, and spirits, that opening up of ourselves to receive the Holy Spirit. It is a process, a marathon instead of a sprint. It is done in community, as well as individually, and it involves asking questions, wondering, and going deeper. Discernment is at the very heart of the common ministry to which we have been called this season at St. James'.

It is only through discernment that we understand Jesus’ mission, as the Church, as a church, and as individuals. Still, true understanding will come only as we give up our idea of what makes life worthwhile and yield to God’s idea. When we surrender the pursuit of our own “best life” in order to disappear into God’s life, we begin to live the only life worth living, which is the life that Jesus lived and showed us how to live. 

This is the kind of life to which Simon Peter was, at least initially, an adversary. It's the life that surrenders the need for power, prestige, and possessions. It’s the life that doesn’t seek to hold on too tightly to what we have, but instead gives it away graciously and freely when the time comes. It’s the life that sets aside the need for personal protection and places all hope, all trust in God. It's the life grounded in abundance - what we have, what God is doing in our midst - rather than scarcity - what we don't have, who's not in church on Sundays. It’s the life that willingly and willfully takes up the cross – a symbol of shame and ridicule and pain – knowing that, contrary to every rational thought, it will lead to a new thing being born. 

Doesn’t that sound exciting? Does it sound scary? Yes and yes. There’s danger in this dance, that’s why we can’t resist it! We may feel the tug to keep things the way they’ve been, to avoid the pain and discomfort that often come with change. Simon bar Jonah was in the same place y’all are now, but there’s a reason why he’s better known by the nickname he got last week than the one he got this week. Though he struggled to accept the mission of downward mobility that Jesus accepted in his earthly ministry, when the stone of the grave had been rolled away, the one they called the Rock finally understood what it meant to give up his own ambitions and ideas of how things are supposed to be and surrender to God's will, and he lived the rest of his life with that understanding. In so doing, he earned his true name.

We will find our true selves on this journey, too. The instructions for how we do that can be found in the 12th chapter of Romans (another of our readings from this past Sunday):  “let love be genuine…perservere in prayer…rejoice with those who rejoice….weep with those who weep.” 

That's the work of the Gospel right there, and I believe that the the Gospel, the Good News, of Jesus Christ, is enough. All by itself. It’s enough to turn this world, not upside-down, but rightside-up. Saying yes to this Gospel-centrered life that Jesus calls us into can seem scary, especially when it means letting go of our own ambitions and expectations and ideas for how we think things ought to be. But trust me when I say this, brothers and sisters, it is always, always worth it because it always, always leads to us discovering who we really are.