Birthing Light in Dark Times

 

Mark 13:1-8

Proper 28 / Year B

The Church year is drawing to a close, so it is not by coincidence several of today’s readings draw from the apocalyptic genre of writing in Scripture.  This style uses vivid imagery to speak about current events too dangerous to address directly given the political climate of the time.  Its message, in the face of dire circumstances, most often is this: “Do not be afraid.  The difficulties of the present will pass.  God will see to it.  Something marvelous is about to happen.  Keep the faith, be watchful, and remain strong.”

At the end of today’s teaching, Jesus tells his followers when the warning signs begin “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs”.  Birth pangs literally refer to when a pregnant woman’s labor begins through the time of delivery.  Initially, the pain comes in intervals of about thirty minutes, but it speeds up in frequency to perhaps to once a minute.  It intensifies and becomes nearly unbearable.  When reflecting on this passage with several of my colleagues I asked those who have carried a child what it is like to anticipate birth pangs.  To a person they said it was a time mixed with anxiety and fear and a tremendous sense of anticipation for the new life to come.  Birth pangs in a potent metaphor for what the Cambridge Dictionary defines as “the problems that come with the start of something new, especially a big social change.” 

Some folks in the Christian tradition view apocalyptic readings as being predictive signs of the second coming of Christ, but, as I said, at the time of their writing they spoke to an ominous reality being faced by many at that time.  This by no means means apocalyptic writings have no significance or value in our day and age because often we live in a time of one peril or another.  The plea not to be afraid, the promise the difficulties in the present will pass, the assurance God will see to it, the hope something marvelous is about to happen, and the call to keep the faith, be watchful, and remain strong has something important to say to us in this post-election time in our country.

It occurs to me whether you voted for President-Elect Trump or for Vice President Harris there is something we all share in common: a belief this is a dark time for our nation.  Some see brightness on the horizon while others sense the darkness is expanding and deepening.  No matter your perspective we people of faith also have a common call to be the light of Christ in the world. 

For those who place great hope in the next administration I want to say you cannot abdicate your responsibility to be a light to a single political figure.  Voting alone does not fulfil your call to birth God’s love into this world.  And for those whose sense of what is about to come feels gloomier, let me remind you when you light a candle at noon, not much changes, but when you light it at night, darkness, no matter how deep, is overcome.  And, just as one candle has the power to dispel darkness from a room, so too God’s love being birthed in and through you has the power to transform our world. 

An old friend posted a quote by R.L. Knot.  She is the author of a best-selling book on Gentle Parenting:

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.

All things break.

All things can be mended.

Not with time, as they say, but with intention.

So go.

Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.

The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.

Let me now turn to Thom and the Choir who weeks ago began working on an anthem, not knowing its message would be the perfect way to wrap up today’s sermon. 

Have You Heard God’s Voice?  – Frederick Chatfield

Have you heard God’s voice; has your heart been stirred?

Are you still prepared to follow?

Have you made a choice to remain and serve,

  though the way be rough and narrow?

Will you use your voice; will you not sit down

  when the multitudes are silent?

Will you make a choice to stand your ground

  when the crowds are turning violent?

Will you walk the path that will cost you much

  and embrace God’s love and sorrow?

Will you trust in One who entrusts to you

  the disciples of tomorrow?

Will you watch the news with the eyes of faith

  and believe it could be different?

Will you share your views using words of grace?

Will you leave a thoughtful imprint?

In your city streets will you be God’s heart?

Will you listen to the voiceless?

Will you stop and eat, and when friendships start,

  will you share your faith with the faithless?

We will walk the path that will cost us much

  and embrace God’s love and sorrow?

Will you trust in One who entrusts to you

  the disciples of tomorrow.        ~ Jacqui G. Jones

A Wholly Authentic Expression of Your Entire Being

 

Mark 12:38-44

Proper 27 / Year B

I suspect we are all familiar with today’s Gospel reading.  We have heard it before.  We know its meaning.  I probably don’t even need to preach a sermon about it.  Someone who gives all they have, even if it be a little, gives more than others whose contribution, though of a greater amount, represents a smaller portion of their assets.  This message, couched in Jesus’ warning not to be overly swayed by those who make a grand demonstration out of their giving, reminds us we should not think too highly of what we offer because it is not as great a sacrifice as what the widow in the story has given.

There… I said it.  We all have been reminded we could always do more.  Now we can move on because we have identified the heart of the lesson.  Or have we?  Should we just transition to the Creed, or is there something more here to explore?  Let’s poke at this reading a little bit.  Let’s prod it and probe ourselves to see if perhaps we have missed something laying beneath the surface of the action and the meaning we have assigned to it.

Looking beneath the surface is a good metaphor for approaching this passage.  Jesus is observing people as they place their obligatory contribution into the Temple treasury box.  Today we would say he is “people-watching.”  At one point he is overcome by the contribution of a widow whose act of giving two coins without fanfare leaves her completely impoverished.  

On the surface hers is an amazing act of faith and leads to a teaching moment which has come down to us through the ages.  But Jesus sees more than the surface action.  He also perceives what we might refer to as the ‘spirit in which it is given.’  Would Jesus have been as quick to praise the widow if, say, she was giving her coins spitefully out of sense of obligation to a hated family tradition?  Or if, say, she was trying to bargain with God in order to improve her lot in life?  Probably not.

How important is this ‘spirit in which it is given’ thing?  Well consider why Jesus is critical of the religious leaders he observes as they come to the treasury.  It is not because they make a small offering, and it is not because their gift is a just pittance of their wealth.  He criticizes them for giving in order to be recognized and honored.  He criticizes the spirit of their giving more so than the amount.

So, of course, Jesus would not have extolled the value of the widow’s act if, on the surface, it was not an incredible sacrifice, but neither would he have pointed to her if beneath the surface… in the world of motives and emotions… her offering was anything other than genuine.  In addition to calling her offering a complete sacrifice, we might say for her it is a wholly authentic expression of her entire being.  Did you catch that?  It is wholly, authentic expression of her entire being.  Short of this her offering, though sacrificial, would not have been as worthy of comment.

A wholly authentic expression of your entire being.  What in the world do I mean by this?

We are conditioned for conformity, not authenticity.  In the struggle between embodying the values of family and community verses embracing the uniqueness God has created within each of us, often we lean too far toward family and community at the expense of self.  We are satisfied with outward mimicking while not valuing the wisdom of our internal life.  Jesus is concerned with this.  Time and again he lifts up the value of interior motivation.  He knows the heart must be right and the widow’s gift comes from the heart… the whole heart.  It is an expression which encapsulates all of her gratitude for life, her joy, her sorrow, her fear, her faith, her pride, her pain, her shame, and everything else going into the complex mix of marvelous and murky things which make her her.

What about you?  When do you offer something that is a wholly authentic expression of your entire being?  What might this look like?  Well, for one person it might look like a covered dish for a potluck supper.  For some preparing something to offer at a potluck initiates an incredibly rich experience.  It begins with a detailed, almost prayerful search of the recipe books.  It may involve trips to several different groceries to get just the right ingredients.  The cooking process may be a daylong procedure, perhaps two, and all the smells and sounds and even the dirty dishes may evoke cherished memories of baking with a grandmother long deceased.  And then, on Sunday after church, a dish… and incredible dish… is offered with joy and pride and fear and hope and everything else the one who prepares it (if you will pardon the pun) brings to the table.  Me?  If I have to bring something to a pot-luck… I’ll simply go to Food Lion and get two pints of potato salad.  

What’s the difference?  I am shouldering my portion of the responsibility for our common life, but the other person is making a wholly authentic expression of his or her entire being.  Make no mistake, both are important.  But what if I never find the thing or those things which are authentic expressions of my entire being?  And in never finding them cannot offer them to God or to this community I love so dearly?  I will not be me… the me God has created, claimed, called, and empowered through baptism.

What do you offer that is a wholly authentic expression of your entire being?  Only you can answer this... no one else.  Perhaps an answer readily comes mind.  Perhaps not.  If you were walking past the Temple treasury box and could put anything into it… anything at all… what would it need to be for Jesus to gather his disciples around and say, “Did you see what that person just put in?  Truly I say to you he/she has put in more than everyone else?”  What is your Widow’s Mite?

I Want to See Again

 

Mark 10:46-52   

Proper 25 / Year B

You will recall our reading a few weeks ago as Jesus and his followers set out on a journey which takes them from the shores of the Sea of Galilee, south along the Jordon River, and ultimately to Jerusalem.  Today’s reading finds this group in Jericho where the way turns east and pilgrims undergo an arduous uphill journey to the Holy City.  How strenuous is it?  Well, let’s just say there is good reason why one of the biblical names for Jerusalem is Mt. Zion!

So here at this turning point, a blind beggar learns Jesus is passing by.  He cries out, “Son of David, have mercy on me.”  He is persistent, yet those around him find him pesky.  The more they attempt to silence him the more determined he becomes.  “Son of David, have mercy on me.”  That he calls Jesus the “Son of David” is significant.  It indicates the blind man links Jesus to the Scriptural tradition the messiah will rise from David’s lineage. 

When Jesus hears him shouting out he stops and instructs his followers, “Call him here.”  The wording here is interesting.  Jesus could have said, “Bring him to me.”  He could have instructed his disciples to help the blind man through the crowds.  He could have worked his way over to where the beggar was seated.  But no, Jesus calls him.  So this, in part, is a story about calling; about the opportunity to find something more substantial than mercy.

Jesus asks him the same question he asked James and John in last Sunday’s reading, “What do you want me to do for you?”  The blind man’s request will be met much more favorably than that of the two disciples.  “My teacher, let me see again.”  Unlike the person in John’s gospel who is blind from birth, this man once could see, but for reasons not revealed by the text became blind at some point in his life. 

Once he could see.  Now he can’t.  I pondered this dynamic and asked a simple question: What was I once able to see, but now am blind to?  My thoughts went in two directions.  The first is our nation. 

There was a time when we thought of us in terms of “we” – we the people.  We were never united by a shared political perspective.  Back in the day we fought over substantive matters, debated solutions, went to the ballot box, and lived graciously with the outcome.  Why, because at our very core we acknowledged our common humanity and the right of each person to be a part of the whole.  We placed this over and above any and every difference between us.  We had respect for one another.

That was when we could see, but somewhere along the way we began to lose our sight.  Now, instead of “we”, we speak in terms of “us” and “them”.  The words we use to describe “us” paint a picture confirming “we” are righteous and good and enlightened and the faithful carriers of our great national heritage.  The words we use to describe “them” are dark: they are dangerous, they don’t love our country, they want to destroy democracy, they are ignorant, they are vermin, they are the enemy who must defeated at all costs.  It doesn’t matter which side of the political landscape you dwell, there are only two sides: those who think like “us” and “them”, those who don’t.  We can longer see anything like “we”.  We, as a people, our blind to the highest ideals on which our country is founded.

So this is one kind of blindness I pondered.  The other is very different and I began to consider it while on our bishop’s clergy retreat last week.  Jim Davis and Michael Graham were our presenters.  They wrote a book titled The Great Dechurching: Who’s Leaving, Why Are They Going, and What Will It Take to Bring Them Back.  They commissioned a large and comprehensive study to discern why people who once went to church no longer do.  How many people are there?  Well, in the last 25 years, 40 million Americans have left churches and other religious institutions.  They were not all members of mainline churches.  Increasingly they are Roman Catholics and Evangelicals.  Davis and Graham drilled down into the massive amount of data they gleaned from 7,000 survey responses. 

Now, we all know people who have left the church and I suspect many of us have our own thoughts as to why they did so.  Davis and Graham opened my eyes to a much more complex reality which, while not necessarily true for everyone of these 40 million people, reveals unexpected insights.  I have to say, I was blind to this before their presentation.

Here are three things I learned.  First, why are people leaving?  Yes, some folks’ decisions are rooted in real pain.  But most folks left the church because they moved.  Other factors, like changes in the family or inconvenient service times, play a factor.  Next, what do they long for from what they left behind?  Most said a sense of community, belonging, and new friendships.  What would bring them back?  Brace yourself… a personal invitation.  These insights, for me at least, restore my sight as to what is going on with declining participation in a religious community such as ours, and what we can do about it.  

And speaking of sight, the blind man has his restored.  Remember a couple of weeks ago when the man who wanted eternal life approached Jesus.  Remember how Jesus extended an invitation to join him on the journey?  Do you remember how the terms and conditions of selling all he owns did not suit him?  Well today, the blind man casts off his cloak, perhaps the only thing he owns, when he comes to Jesus.  When his sight is restored he immediately joins Jesus on the way.  And he must have stayed because years later, when Mark sets out to write his gospel, he remembers his name – Bartimaeus.  As we regain our sight in those areas where we once could see but now are blind, may we do as Bartimaeus did, be willing to divest of the patterns and perspectives we developed during our blindness and join Jesus on the way.      

 

Lusting for Greatness

 

Mark 10:35-45

Proper 24 / Year B

James, James, James!  John, John, John!  Really?  Really?  Really? 

We admire people who strive to be great by pursuing excellence; people who develop their skills and assets in order to become who God created them to be.  As an example, I was blessed to attend Madison Mottley’s graduation ceremony on Friday evening.  I came away impressed by how hard she and her classmates worked to earn their degrees and how much they sacrificed in the process.  She and they truly deserve to be congratulated and celebrated.

We do not admire people who lust for a position or title or accolade merely for the power and prestige they suppose it will confer.  We do not celebrate people who overreach in order to fill something which is lacking in their life.  We don’t honor those who seek to be great for greatness’ sake alone.  And this is why we bristle at James’ and John’s request.

It all seems so unnecessary.  Along with Peter, the two brothers are already a part of Jesus’ inner circle; the disciples with whom he seems to be especially close.  We would rather they not use their standing in his eyes to preen.  A little bit of humility goes a long way.  Rick Warren, the megachurch pastor and best-selling author, states bluntly, “You are not self-serving when you’ve surrendered [your life to Christ]”.  By this standard, the two brothers (nicknamed the “Sons of Thunder”), are still in the early stages of their training in discipleship.   

Can you think of a time when you pushed and promoted yourself in order to get something you badly wanted; some position or post you imagined would give you prestige?  Have you ever yearned for what you imaged would make you great, in your eyes and in the eyes of others.  And if you achieved what you desired, how did it turn out?

When I was a college freshman I desperately wanted to be on a student-led youth ministry team called Young Life.  Well, I went for it, worked hard, sacrificed much, and by my junior year was actually the leader.  The position even paid a little bit of money, which was nice, but even more it garnered me a certain level of admiration in some circles of the campus.  The thing is, I was not a very good leader at the time.  I overestimated my abilities, did little to build up the other volunteers, didn’t mesh well with some of the teenagers we were trying to evangelize, and nearly ran the entire ministry into the ground. 

Last Tuesday the bishop held her monthly zoom call with the clergy.  We always begin by reading and discussing the gospel lesson for the coming Sunday.  I outed myself by relating the experience from my college years.  I found it interesting everyone on the zoom who has gone after something, as I went after the campus ministry position, confessed it did not turn out well.  They said they were not ideally suited for those positions they sought and in the end it made them miserable.  To a person we shared that when we have been able to relax, to be authentically who we are, and to let God be our guide, things have worked out much better. 

In the business world there is the corporate ladder.  Many people are motivated to climb higher and higher because this is what great people do.  There is a church ladder as well; a path clergy travel from seminary, to be a curate in a notable parish, to serving as the rector of a small, stable church, and then being a rector of a larger church with a larger staff, to becoming the rector of a cardinal parish or the dean of a cathedral or perhaps even a bishop. 

I guess my experience with youth ministry in college taught me enough about coveting power and prestige that I never was particularly motivated to make that climb.  I have never sought to be the rector of a large parish nor have I aspired to be a bishop.  Through it all I have learned what Jesus teaches his followers in today’s reading: If you want to be great you must be a servant to all.

St. Paul’s has been such a wonderful place for me to serve because, whether you realized it or not, every person here offers what they offer, contributes what they contribute, and does what they do out of a spirit of servanthood; never seeking prestige or leveraging it into power.  Believe me, it is not this way in every parish. 

Gandhi, in drawing on the teaching of Jesus, said, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”  While no one is perfect at this and no faith community can fully embody it, I see it as one of St. Paul’s defining characteristics.  We care deeply about one another and in no way attempt to pursue greatness in order to lord it over others. 

So give yourself a pat on the back.  Even better, give someone else here a pat on the back and express your gratitude for their unique contribution to our common life.  Last week was Pastor’s Appreciation Sunday.  Lets make this, and the other 50 Sunday’s during the year Membership Appreciation Day.  Please know how much I admire the servant-like manner in which each of you participates in our common life. 

 

Setting out on a Journey

 

Mak 10:17-31

Proper 23 / Year B

“As Jesus was setting out on a journey…”  Jesus makes several ‘journeys’ over the course of his public ministry.  He crisscrosses the Sea of Galilee several times.  He goes from village to village in and around Capernaum – the town he calls home.  He visits Nazareth, the place where he grew up.  He goes to Jerusalem for high, holy festivals.  He even travels through Samaria and flees to the north after the execution of John the Baptist; both of these are regions ‘good’ Jews avoid. 

And after each journey he returns to Capernaum, the home of Peter and Andrew, James and John – fishermen by trade.  It is unclear if Jesus stays in one of their homes or has a place of his own.  But we need to note his disciples have homes and families and a trade with all the tools necessary to ply it.  Yes, when they journey with Jesus they leave it all behind.  They sacrifice much because in their business there is no paid time off.  If you are not working you are not earning a living.  Your family goes without.  The bills pile up.  Competitors gain advantage.

But for Jesus’ followers these sacrifices are worth it because as they journey with him their lives are changed and they find life as they never experienced it before.  I think it is a bit of hyperbole to say they have given up all their possessions to follow Jesus.  They still have their homes and boats and nets, at least.  But they give up much when they go on a journey with him.

So, in today’s reading, we are told simply Jesus is setting out on a journey.  Period.  But this is not just any journey.  He is going to Jerusalem to attend the Passover.  It will begin with the triumphant entry into the Holy City on the back of a donkey.  It will see him arrested, tried, tortured, and executed.  It will conclude with the Resurrection.  So, no, this is not like the other journeys.  This is THE JOURNEY.  It will change the course of history as well as the lives of his disciples.

So as Jesus is setting out a man runs up to him, kneels, and asks a question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  His motivation is not clear.  Does he just want to know how to check off another box of prudent things to do?  Or, is he at a point in life where he has seen it all, done it all, and savored it all, yet still feels like something is missing?  Has he tasted the best life has to offer only to realize he has a longing which none of it can satisfy? 

Jesus and the man discuss those 10 Commandments dealing with how one treats his fellow human beings.  “I have kept these laws since my youth,” the person says.  Such a claim makes us skeptical, but no matter.  Jesus says to him, “There is one thing you lack.”  Does he mean in addition to keeping the commandments there is one more requirement before meriting eternal life or is he saying “I know what you need to do quell the nagging feeling in your soul”? 

Jesus’ three-fold directive is this: First, sell what you have.  Next, give the money to the poor.  Finally, come, follow me.  Now, I don’t know if Jesus means he should literally divest himself of everything he owns, but clearly his possessions weigh him down and when Jesus goes on a journey he is all about travelling light.  It is a good way to undertake a pilgrimage and it is a good way to go through life.  It is possible this sacrificial act is the final box the man needs to check in order to inherit eternal life.  After all, Jesus says if you give to the poor you will have treasure in heaven.  Perhaps the man hears this as when I get to the pearly gates I will have enough riches stored up to buy my way in.

But when Jesus invites the man to follow him on his journey he is writing a prescription for what deeply troubles him.  “Come and be with me,” Jesus says.  Image how his life would have been changed if he accepted.  Imagine how the events of Holy Week and Easter would have left a holy mark on his soul.  He might have become an Apostle.  He might have gone on his own journey to preach the gospel.  He might have founded churches.  He might have written an account of Jesus’ life which makes it into the canon of Holy Scripture.  By losing his life, he might have found his life, as Jesus taught.  But, at this point in his journey, he is not willing to part with his possessions and walks away ‘shocked’ and ‘grieving.’ 

Those of us here this morning might want to ponder if Jesus is inviting us to join him on a journey.  If so, what might cause us to reject the offer?  We might want to recall the times Jesus invited us to follow and we said no.  Why did we hold back and what did we miss out on in the process?  We might also want to reflect on those times we joined Jesus on the way and consider how it changed our lives. 

When Jesus was Asked about Divorce

 

Mark 10:2-16

Proper 22 / Year B

This morning we read of yet another instance when a group of Pharisees approach Jesus with a question intending to test and to trap him.  They wonder what he thinks about the legality of divorce.  This is not just a theoretical concern, but a hot-button topic of the day, every bit as divisive as issues we wrangle over in our country in our time. 

On one side you have the school of Hillel, a learned Pharisee.  He interprets the law on divorce very liberally, even frivolously.  If your wife displeases you, or if you find another woman more appealing, go ahead and get a divorce.  On the other side is rabbi Shammia who holds to a very restrictive view – divorce is permission only in the instance of infidelity.

All of it is squabbling about a particular passage in the Book of Deuteronomy, chapter 24:1-4.  Surprisingly, this is one of only a few times the Law of Moses addresses divorce.  It allows for the husband to give a certificate of release to his wife if she displeases him.  In context, it goes on to address the possibility she remarries and her new husband dies or divorces her, then the first husband is not allowed to remarry her.  In his teaching, Jesus raises the possibility of a wife divorcing her husband, but this was only possible for gentiles.  The Jewish law provided a wife with no powers in this matter.

Well, all of the cultural debate is about how to interpret this law and the Pharisees want to know whose side he is on, theirs or the rabbis.  Notice how Jesus’ respond shifts the conversation from how to interpret the Law to God’s original intent for marriage.  And to explore this he turns to a passage from Genesis we read moments ago. 

After all God’s activity at the beginning of creation, after each day God looks at it and says it is ‘good.’  Now, for the first time, God sees something not good – the man is alone.  God deems he needs a suitable helper.  So God parades all the animals before the man who then gives a name to each of them, thus drawing humanity into God’s creative process.  Yet no suitable helper is found.  So God causes the man to sleep, removes one of his ribs, and fashions a woman.  The man takes one look at the woman and knows he has found the partner he needs.  He is no longer alone.  The moral of the story is a man should leave his father and mother and cling to his wife and two are to become as one.  Jesus says this mutuality is God’s original intent.

Hold this thought for a moment and let me say a word about the Hebrew word translated here as ‘helper’.  Some translations render it ‘help-mate.’  Either way, it has led a belief woman are somehow inferior to men, or at least subjugated to them.  Take out your prayer book and open it to page 659.  Read Psalm 54:4:

Behold, God is my helper;

    It is the Lord who sustains my life. 

The Hebrew word translated here as ‘helper’ is the same Hebrew word used in Genesis.  No one would ever suggest since God is our helper God is inferior to us or subjugated to us.  My basic point in this aside is we need to do a lot more theological work if we are going to truly understand what is means the woman is the man’s helper.

Well, back to the sermon.  After Jesus sets out God’s original intent for marriage, he turns his attention to the laws on divorce.  They are there, Jesus says, because we live in a broken world.  They are in place to address the messiness of the post-fall reality where what God intends for marriage does not always pan out.

One of the blessings of working in the church is I have gotten to meet and know dozens of couples whose marriages beautifully reflect God’s original intent.  There is nothing like meeting a couple in their 70s or 80s or beyond who after years of marriage are still living as ‘one flesh.’  They witness to what Christ’ love for the Church looks like.

And then there are people whose marriage did not maintain this threshold and ended.  People like me.  The end of my marriage has in no way diminished my affirmation of the biblical witness to marriage.  I know firsthand, as many of you do, the tremendous pain and deep anguish which occurs when this relationship is broken.  This pain and anguish in no way says marriage is a disposable relationship.  It in no way suggests we stay marriage is to last only as long as it feels good and then cash it in when something perceived to be better comes along.  The pain and the anguish testify to the sacredness and the holiness of the marriage relationship.  When it ends the brokenness cries out, “This is not what God intends.” 

I know personally why the Christian Church declares marriage should not be entered into lightly, or unadvisedly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.  When two people come together and hold this as their aim, the marriage relationship brings unimaginable blessing.  When it is severed, the marital relationship participates in the brokenness God did not write into the fabric of creation.  It is a brokenness introduced into reality by we humans because, well, we are human.  And because we are human, we fall and we fail.  This in no way changes God’s love for us, a love we see most clearly as God’s original intent for all creation is known and proclaimed in thought, word, and deed.

Compaining

 

Numbers 11:4-6. 10-16, 24-29

Proper 21 / Year B

If you have a keen memory you may recall today’s first lesson was read at our Celebration of New Ministry way back in 2008.  I remember Jim Matthison preaching on it and capturing perfectly the whining going on throughout the text.  And there is a lot of whining.  The people have been wandering around in the Sinai wilderness for a long time.  Often without water and having only manna and quail to eat, they become discontented.  How bad is it?  They wish they were back enslaved in Egypt where food, as they recollect, was succulent and plentiful.

The text refers to this group as the ‘rabble’ (I like how one translator calls the ‘riffraff’).  They are a group of whinny malcontents who seem to specialize in criticism, negativity, and romanticizing the past.  This group does not represent everyone.  We are told there are 600,000 men of military age and they and their families do their best to get along, but, over time and under exceedingly difficult conditions, they are swayed toward the riffraff point of view.  God hears the complaining and is displeased.  God speaks to Moses and Moses is displeased.  In essence he says to God, “These are your people and this is your mess.  You deal with it!” 

Everyone of us, without exception, complains.  It is a universal experience.  The comedian Lily Tomlin once noted “Human beings invented language to satisfy our deep need to complain.”  Every complaint is a simply an expression of dissatisfaction usually, but not always, rooted in a negative situation.   Some are rooted in mere annoyance while others rise to the level of criminality.  Our brains are actually wired for negativity (it goes back to the evolutionary fight or flight response).  The more complaining you do, or (likes the Hebrew masses) the more complaining you are around the more negative you become in your approach to life and in your evaluation of your circumstances.  

Behavioral researchers have discerned there are three basic types of complainers.  The first are known as chronic complainers.  These are the folks so focused on the thorns they are incapable of deriving pleasure from the rose.  They tend to ruminate on their grievances, endlessly stewing on the specifics of their unhappiness.  Chronic complainers are exhausting.  I learned of a clergy group that once met monthly for support and fellowship.  However, one of its members was a chronic complainer who high jacked every gathering by littering the conversation with her complaints.  How bad was it?  Eventually the group disbanded.

The second type of complainer is the venter.  The venter is the person who holds back, keeps it in, and bites his tongue until eventually the need to let off steam becomes too great.  You folks from the South were raised on the axiom if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  We Northerners have a different saying, “I just have to get something off my chest.”  Venting provides temporary relief by transferring emotional energy to anyone within earshot of the complaint.  Sometimes venting puts the issue to rest, but most often it will rear up again and again and again.  Ultimately the venter is seeking validation – the affirmation their dissatisfaction is legitimate.

The final type of complaint is known as the instrumental complaint.  Like its two cousins, it also is rooted in dissatisfaction, but unlike them it is focused on solving the problem.  The instrumental complainer says something like “I don’t think we are headed in the right direction.  Does anyone have an idea how we can get back on course?”  The instrumental complainer never says, “It is my way of the highway.” 

So, back to Moses.  His general complaint is he is overworked.  God has given him too many people with too many problems for him to address all by himself.  God instructs him to gather seventy elders and take them to the Tent Tabernacle (this is way before a Temple is built in Jerusalem).  God then takes some of the mojo being conferred on Moses and spreads it over the entire group.  And the group becomes ecstatic, prophesying and dancing around and doing the things which generally indicate God has equipped them to do important work.

Notice how this prophesying stuff only lasts for a short time for those who hang out isolated in God’s Tent.  But it also has fallen on two people outside of the Tent, Eldad and Medad.  It continues to be manifested by them as they go throughout the camp and minister among the people.  This results in a whole new complaint.  The seventy, who have yet to exercise the gifts God has bestowed on them, complain about two not in their group, who are out ministering to a despairing and defeated people.

This new round of complaining should not surprise us.  It is estimated somewhere between 74-87% of all comments are a complaint in one form or another.  As I said, it is a universal experience.  But, as we saw in a Lenten program a few years ago, you can rewire your brain for gratitude.  And, with some wisdom, insight, and discipline you can train yourself to become an instrumental complainer.  And, in my experience at least, instrumental complainers are worth their weight in gold.