Romans 7:15-25a. Michael Gorman calls this “one of the most difficult and diversely interpreted texts in Romans,” and he’s right. Who’s the “I”? Paul himself? His pre-conversion experience or his current struggle as a believer? Gorman surveys the scholarly options, and concludes that Paul probably is speaking “imaginatively about the experience of nonbelievers: – either Jews or Gentiles. He’s giving voice to what it’s like to live “in Adam” instead of “in Christ.” His thoughts on the "I" are especially compelling given that Paul yields to a "We" in chapter 8:
Yet as a reader in 2023, I have to say the
words on the page flawlessly portray what I find life as a Christian to be
like. I don’t understand much that is in me, and much that I do. I lunge toward
things I prefer not to do (or think or say or feel), and goods I intend (to
think, do, say or feel) don’t happen.
Mind you, we recoil at verse 18: “Nothing
good dwells within me.” I’ve felt that and so have many of my listeners – but that
is a voice that barks in the dark from an unhealthy place, not a spiritually
discerning place. Scripture here can reiterate the harm my negative views are
already wreaking on me – and my people.
If Paul didn’t struggle as you and I do, I
have to wonder if he, who’d been super-zealous as a Jew, was similarly
super-zealous as a Christian, not veering off course or struggling with things
much at all. I know, and semi-understand and lean toward either envy or pity of
such people…
For preaching, I’m not sure I could devise a
solid sermon just on this text. To me, it’s better to life a few phrases from
it while illuminating some other text. That’s preaching a text without letting
it become a straitjacket.
Matthew
11:16-19, 25-30. Oh, this piping and children business must have made a big
impression on Jesus’ first followers, but it’s a bit elusive nowadays. Davies
and Allison see Jesus’ listeners as being “like disagreeable children who
complain that others won’t act according to their desires and expectations.”
You wonder if some children were doing just this nearby! They complete their
read of the comparison: “John the Baptist came not eating or drinking but
demanding sackcloth and ashes – but people wanted to make merry! Jesus came
asking for joyous fellowship – but they demanded he fast!”
The lectionary skips over verses 20-24 – either understandably or sadly. “Woe to you, Korazim!” You can visit its ruins easily, just a little ways off the road from prettier stops like Capernaum and Tabgha. Grey stone construction, mere rubble. Was it the centuries doing the damage or Jesus’ curse? We like Jesus weeping over cities – but cursing them? He must have, or some whitewasher would be expunged this – like the lectionary gurus did! He has a go at Capernaum too – which isn’t lying in ruins so much nowadays. Jesus – not the sweet shepherd cuddling with a little lamb! – compares the judgment bearing down on them to that of Sodom. Like a nuclear wasteland? Oh my.
Then back to something you can read in front of your five year old: verses 25-30 – clearly, since Jesus says what is “hidden” can be revealed “to babes.” The Greek, nepioi, means simple, childlike. What a God is our God! God’s highest wisdom and truest self, not requiring immense intelligence or piles of learning, but a simple, childlike trust, wonder, curiosity. No wonder we baptize such people. They don’t mind vulnerability. A newborn’s eyesight is a mere 20/400 – perfect for seeing the mother who nurses you, without getting distracted by the troubles way across the room. All this and more in my book on Birth: The Mystery of Being Born.
On all the mystery: St. Augustine, who knew and explained and helped us understand so much about God, reminded us, “If you understand it, it is not God.” Whatever we glimpse has been “revealed,” not figured out or deduced!! That word “revealed” in Greek is apokalupsis – an apocalypse, something earth-shattering and world-annihilating, definitive, ending the old, ushering in the new and unfathomed.
Speaking of Greek: one of the New Testament’s
most intriguing words, “handed over,” paradidomi,
is exploited in a unique way here: it’s not that Jesus is “handed over” or “delivered,”
but rather “All things have been delivered to me by my Father.” What things?
Important things? The truest things? Hidden things? Let these questions linger,
as they aren’t answered in our text either! Not bad sort of to zigzag around
the reality the passage must have in mind.
I think it’s crucial to emphasize sabbath with our people – genuine rest, disconnecting from social media and the so-called smart phone. Sabbath isn’t just doing nothing or a vacation or taking a nap. It’s a day for God, a day of a break from the grind, a day for delight. Read, if you haven’t, three fabulous books on Sabbath: Abraham Heschel’s Sabbath; Christopher Ringwald’s A Day Apart: How Jews, Christians and Muslims find Faith, Freedom and Joy on the Sabbath; and Walter Brueggemann’s Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now (maybe his best of all his books?) – all three just fabulous, wise, quotable, amazing.
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