What can we say June 23? 5th after Pentecost

    1 Samuel 17. That children love the David and Goliath story should give us some pause. It’s violent, ending in decapitation! Perhaps children, being small, love the small one winning – although I suspect Francesca Aran Murphy (in her fine Brazos commentary) is right about us adults and this story: “We yearn to believe that ‘strength is made perfect in weakness’ (2 Cor. 12:9).” 

   I’m not a fan of Richard Gere – but gosh, he was marvelous in the film King David! The Goliath scene is exceedingly well-done – although I’d also commend the way Brad Pitt played Achilles in his one-on-one contest with Boagrius in Helen of Troy! Our lection isn’t about the underdog winning against all odds. It’s about who’s God, and who isn’t – a theological contest waged then and now.

   David has been toting his brothers’ lunchboxes when they are off at war when he stumbles into his dramatic moment. The details make the story: Goliath’s armor weighs 5000 shekels. Saul’s armor is way lighter, but still too heavy for this lad. Goliath is 6 cubits and a span (9’ 6”) – and this is clearly our most fascinating textual variant maybe in all of Scripture: the Dead Sea Scrolls manuscript of 1 Samuel has him at a mere 4 cubits and a span (6’ 6”) – huge by ancient standards! Copyists were more likely, over time, to make him taller – like the proverbial fish I caught.

   David bravely offers to fight – laughably. Saul scolds him: “You are not able to go” – perhaps reminding us of the hymn “Are Ye Able, said the Master.” The sturdy dreamers, those eager beaver disciples, answer Yes! – but of course, they are not able. David is able. Or lucky? His slingshot accuracy: was that little rock divinely guided? Sheer luck? Or was he a genius of a marksman (a marksboy)? Who knows? Preachers can leave such questions dangling – as that very uncertainty is the way we experience God, or luck, or some mix of those and skill and effort in daily life.

   David has a sharp tongue, considerable sass, his mocking verbiage more eloquent and nasty than Goliath’s. Who’s God? “A little child shall lead them,” and show them God – as Jesus did, and as Jesus would suggest that we too must become like children. I preached from this text at my aunt’s funeral. It struck me as fitting, with Jesus the Rock of Ages felling the giant, Death – but then I wonder if it’s easier to declare this in the hour of death than in the daily rigors of battling addiction or culture or depression or… fill in the blanks with the giants not so easily toppled. Again, in the sermon, it’s really fine to name this. People know already.

   King Saul, tall and covered with armor, was the official leader. And yet David was the one who led. Unprotected, unknown, uncredentialed, David was small enough, even weak enough, to lead (as in my book on this theme!!)

    We wouldn’t extract too many “leadership principles” from this story, or we’d be putting little kids with pluck in charge of all the big churches and companies. Malcolm Gladwell wrote about cases where the underdog wins through cunning and surprise and how a disadvantage can become an advantage; he titled his book David and Goliath.

     David does appear to be something of what Peter Drucker would call a “natural,” someone with confidence who effortlessly inspires and understands priorities. David’s shedding of conventional weaponry is intriguing, isn’t it? Do we stick with tried and true methods? With what has always been effective? When can leaders travel a little lighter, experimenting with the unconventional? Can we get out of a rut by asking a real child? Or at least asking what impact our action might have on a small child? I know a real estate developer who got involved in educational equity in his spare time. Realizing one of his projects would unwittingly contribute to skewed disadvantages for children not far from his project, he altered his plan, made allowances for poorer residents, didn’t cash in as much profit as he could have, but did what he believed God was asking him to do.

     The beheading is grisly… but I love the suggestion I first heard in Hertzberg’s classic Old Testament Library commentary on 1 & 2 Samuel – that the anachronistic notice that David took Goliath’s head to Jerusalem (which wasn’t a place for the Israelites just yet…) has a titillating reference.  Jesus was crucified at Golgotha (hear the Gol in there, as in Goliath) – the “place of the skull,” perhaps a traditional understanding that the big stone outcropping was the head of Goliath, deposited there by David centuries before.  The theological suggestiveness of this is rich indeed...

   2 Corinthians 6:1-13 won’t be my preaching text. But as I often do, an unused lectionary text can speak to me as a person and as a pastor. My life in ministry has its sufferings – but so paltry compared to what Paul endured. And yet I feel embraced by him and his story. I’ve not borne beatings. Well, verbal beatings, yes… I’ve not been imprisoned for my ministry, but I’ve barely made it through many sleepless nights. Ill repute, yes – and treated as an impostor, for sure. Sorrowful? On even the most fruitful days in pastoral life, maybe especially on those days. Paul is generous to enfold me in his experience and love.

   Mark 4:35-41. Jesus stills the storm from a small wooden boat in the teeth of a vicious storm. Archaeologists discovered a real fishing boat from Jesus’ time. Fabulous! But would you want to be in this thing weathering a major storm? 

   God does not mind if we ask, Did these stories about Jesus really happen? Or are they symbolic? I suspect the answer is Yes? Jesus and the disciples leave a crowd on the shore to cross to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Not all that far, maybe 3 or 4 miles. You can see all the way across. You probably know that this body of water is legendary for the sudden irruption (eruption!) of wind gales and terrible waves. The photo here is of me reading this story to pilgrims from our church travelling with me. When I opened the Bible, the sun was out and it was pretty calm. By the time I’d gotten people’s attention and read just these 7 verses, the wind was howling, and in another minute sheets of rain were pelting us and the ship was rocking nauseously.

   Such a storm overtook the disciples in a far smaller boat than the one we were in. Terrified disciples, having lots friends and maybe family in such wicked storms, panic – and remember Jesus is with them. And he is – astonishingly – asleep on a cushion. Lucky cushion… Easy to imagine them shaking him, startling him, as they ask “Don’t you care if we perish?” It’s not at all that he doesn’t care. He’s just the ultimate “non-anxious presence.” It’s as if he is enacting for them, and us, that verse from Psalm 46: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

   Not flustered in the least, Jesus stands up and speaks: “Peace. Be still.” Quirky question: was he speaking to the storm? Or to the quaking disciples? Yes? I hear echoes of the story of Jonah here. Storm rising, main character asleep, then the storm calms – and yet Jonah is the antithesis of Jesus. He’s on the run away from God, so terrified that he sleeps a sleep of denial. Mark 4:35-41 invites us to notice Jesus is with us in our storms, that he is the bringer of peace, that ours is to heed his call and not be like Jonah – and that God’s business isn’t just private, human souls but all of Creation.

   Regarding preaching this text, I once saw the charismatic Methodist preacher Walter Kimbrough walk down into the crowd as he was re-narrating the story. 

When he got to the part about them finding Jesus, he grabbed a guy on a pew and began shaking him, pleading with him, “Don’t you care if we perish?”  I tried this in my own church.  Went well at services one and two, but then at our third service I just picked the wrong guy.  Try this at your own peril…..

     The theology is profound.  I love the question: when Jesus said, Peace, be still – was he speaking to the sea (of course he was…) or to the jittery, frenzied disciples?  Psalm 46 echoes through it all: Be still, and know that I am God.  The creation aspect underlines what I think N.T. Wright has argued for – that God’s redemptive work isn’t limited to the salvation of individual people, but is a creation-wide recovery project.