What can we say July 31? 8th after Pentecost

    Hosea 11:1-11 is one of the Bible’s tenderest, most revealing moments. Hosea, after all he’d been through with his marriage, and his children, and the people, priests and government leaders, listens in to a tempest of turmoil in God’s own heart. His words sound like a creed, rehearsing Israel’s history with this Divine heart – so less a list of things to be believed, but a relationship to be acknowledged with immense gratitude.

   God’s accusation against sin morphs into a lament, the agonizing breaking of God’s heart. Maybe like a parent coping with a grown child, the mind drifts back to infancy and childhood, when the child was dependent, helpless, not useful at all. Hans Walter Wolff: “The first event in the life of young Israel worthy of report is that Yahweh loves him.” Indeed, “Hosea was the first to use the word ‘love’ as an interpretation of the election of God’s people.”

   The Divine condescension is so moving: like a tall parent bending far down to feed and nurture the wee one. And then wrestling – maybe like Jacob wrestled with God? – with what to do. In the Ancient Near East, the sophomoric, moody deities bickered among themselves, and their actions often conflicted with one another. Enlil might toss down a thunderbolt while Ea yearns to rescue the people – who only experienced their deities as capricious. Israel’s experience has been – or could be again – like a child with mom or dad. Yahweh absorbs all the conflicts the Ancient Near Eastern gods argued about into God’s very own heart, bearing the rage, the sorrow, within, and finally acting against God’s own just judgment.

   Should Israel hear God’s plaintive “How can I give you up?” they might presume upon such mercy and continue in their bad behavior. But if God’s people ever really reckon with the depth of God’s condescension, God’s tender mercies, God’s patience, the only reply can be “Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”

   Colossians 3:1-11. Paul segues into his next section. “Since” you have been raised – not “if.” And “you” is plural: “Since y’all have been raised, seek the things above.” Things? Seek the One who is above. It’s not the goodies of heaven, but being near Jesus Christ. Notice how repetitive Paul is with the word “Christ” lest we misplace our dreams of what’s above! What is lethal in me, in us, must be removed, put to death. God is invited to be the surgeon, to cut out whatever malignancy threatens to kill us.

   The “neither Jew nor Greek” presented itself just last month (June 19) on Galatians 3. I’ll reiterate: there were, of course, still Jews and Greeks, women and men. It’s the division, it’s the rankings that are shattered. Differences are not abolished; God loves diversity! It’s the end of bias, hierarchy, chauvinism – an end to segregation. On this score, we are manifest failures. But it’s still God’s way, and the more we approximate this, the closer we are to God (and the less we approximate this, the further we are from God as well).

   The new reality can elude us. Thomas Merton, ever helpful, wrote this in his Journal: "For the 'old man,' everything is old: he has seen everything or thinks he has. He has lost hope in anything new. What pleases him is the 'old' he clings to, fearing to lose it, but he is certainly not happy with it. For the 'new man' everything is new. Even the old is transfigured. There is nothing to cling to. The new man lives in a world that is always being created, and renewed. He lives in life."

   Luke 12:13-21. Vintage Jesus here! Two brothers bickering over their dad’s inheritance (which people swear they’ll never do – until the last parent dies!!), and one asks Jesus to lean in on his side. Jesus doesn’t take sides, or say “Be fair now.” Instead? “Beware of covetousness.” Really? It’s not coveting if he just wants what’s rightly his – is it? Jesus cuts to the heart of even a just claim: “A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Recoil if you wish, but even our fair claims can expose how hitched our hearts are to things, wealth, more. I’d love to explore the quirky phrase, “all kinds of greed.” There’s not just one kind, is there!

  True to form, Jesus has a story to match: a farmer had a bumper crop. I remember last year, several church members told me they’d had unusually productive years – and brought a check for the church! Not the farmer in Jesus’ parable. Jesus takes us inside his head for an intriguing inner chat: “He thought to himself, ‘What shall I do?’ He said to himself, ‘I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones…’ And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have plenty laid up now for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, be merry.” Jesus’ humor is subtle: the guy calls his soul “Soul.” The whole scene is so insightful, funny in a way, telling in every way.

  Just as he’s plotting bigger barns, he drops dead. God isn’t punishing him for his plan, or for his productivity. God isn’t punishing him at all. His time simply is up. “Fool” indeed. All lost in the moment of death. “So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.” Would Jesus allow you can lay up treasure and be rich toward God? Or is it an either/or? Jesus believes and warns us that in the soul it’s a zero sum game. There’s only so much of you to invest. Will it be the earthly or the heavenly?

   In this context, Jesus continues: “Do not be anxious” – leading us to intuit that in Jesus’ deep wisdom, it is the gathering, augmenting, and protection of things that induces much anxiety. Since he’s out of doors, Jesus beckons them and us to look around: “Consider the birds. They have no barns! Aren’t you more valuable than the birds?” I’m not really sure of the answer to this… St. Francis preached to birds as if they were his equals.

  Notice Jesus asks way more questions than he gives answers. “Which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his span of life?” We can subtract from that span, in both quality and quantity! Still glancing around the hillside, Jesus continues: “Consider the lilies… Even Solomon was not arrayed like one of these.” What a brilliant rhetorical choice! Solomon – not only the richest guy ever, the most splendid dresser ever, but the one who stumbled into idolatry and led others there too.

  Jesus isn’t scolding. His tone of voice must be so very tender, his eyes overflowing with love: “Fear not, little flock.” And his way for them to shed fear? Not locked doors, or better weapons. “Sell your possessions and give alms.” My fear level shrinks as my generosity widens. An unforgettable image: “Provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old.” Surely someone was standing near him with an old leather pouch, worn to threads by years of coins in, coins out. A new purse not subject to aging, or wear and tear is one that holds “treasure in the heavens that does not fail.”

  His clincher: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” I want my heart in heaven even while I live down here. As we sing some Sundays, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace.”

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