Showing posts with label Isaiah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Isaiah. Show all posts

Sunday, January 31, 2016

"Spiritual but not religious?" Let's be the kind of "religious" Jesus was

Sermon delivered Sunday, Jan. 31, 2016 (4th Sunday After the Epiphany, Year C), at St. Anne’s Episcopal Church, Fremont, CA (where I was filling in as a supply priest). Audio (but no video) posted below on Vimeo.

(1 Corinthians 13:1-13, Luke 4:21-30)




Our Gospel passage from Luke today describes Jesus’s return to his hometown of Nazareth after beginning his ministry in other parts of Galilee. The homecoming does not end well: while the people are initially impressed with his preaching, the story ends with them running him out of town and trying to throw him off a cliff! Jesus observes, in a now oft-quoted statement: “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”

But it’s not just in his hometown that Jesus is rejected; he offends lots of people and almost gets attacked in several different stories throughout the Gospels, and of course, ultimately ends up crucified. It was not just his childhood friends and neighbors who found Jesus’s teachings hard to accept or threatening, it was many, many people – and most of them highly religious people.

In reading commentaries on today’s Gospel text, I came across an article titled, “Why Religious People Reject Christ.” Why Religious People Reject Christ. The author points to the fact that today, as in the time of Jesus, “most opposition [to the work of God] comes from the religious crowd, not from those outside.”[1] It’s always the people who are the most passionate about and devoted to their faith who are the most threatened by any criticism of it, even when that criticism is well-deserved.

“Religious people” don’t fare too well in the Gospel texts. It’s the religious leaders and the highly devout who reject Jesus, and ultimately come to call for his execution. Most of the prophets throughout the Hebrew Bible are rejected and scorned by “religious people” as well. Prophets come to remind the faithful of what it truly means to follow God, but they are met with resistance from those who think they already have it all figured out. In today’s particular example, the people of Nazareth are so offended by Jesus reminding them – with stories from their own scriptures, by the way – that God can and does work outside of the people of Israel that they almost kill him. They are so sure that they alone are deserving of God’s favor that the very idea that God would neglect lepers and widows in need in Israel while blessing and healing people who would normally be considered enemies of Israel – a leper who is a commander of the Syrian army and a widow who is a Canaanite, one of the people the Israelites had been commanded to drive out of the land so they could possess it – sends them into a rage. How dare God show mercy on anyone other than us? And how dare you suggest that somehow that has something to do with the fulfillment of God’s purpose?

This kind of thinking is alive and well today, as we all know. There’s a modern “parable” that says that a public sinner was excommunicated and forbidden entry to the church. So he takes his case to God in protest: ‘They won’t let me in, Lord, because I am a sinner,’ he says. ‘What are you complaining about?’ God responds. ‘They won’t let me in either.’[2]

It’s likely because of those kinds of “religious people” that an increasing number of Americans are rejecting organized religion – the latest surveys show that up to 20% of the population now does not claim any particular religious affiliation. [3] When asked, many of them will tell you they are “spiritual but not religious.” Perhaps you’ve heard that line before; perhaps you’ve even said it yourself at some point. Because being “religious” has gotten a bad rep because the “religious” people are the ones who are so often uptight about things, the ones who draw lines around who’s in and who’s out, the ones who manage to take the fun out of everything.

People who say they are “spiritual but not religious” often point out the hypocrisy within organized religion and the ways in which it is used to control or exploit people. They take issue with any group of people thinking that God chooses or prefers them over others, and point out that when people think they have all the answers, not only do they shut out God, but they shut out other people, in the most extreme cases leading to dehumanization and violence.

This critique of religion is really nothing new – in an interesting twist, these modern religiously unaffiliated people are echoing the words of the biblical prophets!

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” Jesus says to the “religious people” of his day. “For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross sea and land to make a single convert, and you make the new convert twice as much a child of hell as yourselves.” (Matthew 23:13-15)

Before Jesus, John the Baptist called out any within the Jewish faith who might have felt that their lineage as “sons and daughters of Abraham” entitled them to a kind of “free pass” at the last judgment, who might have thought that they were worthy just by virtue of the fact that they were part of God’s “chosen people.” He says to them (you might remember this from a few Sundays ago during Advent):

“Do not begin to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” (Luke 3:8-9)

John calls them to “bear fruits worthy of repentance,” to live an authentic life of faith that bears visible fruit in their actions. Being a son or daughter of Abraham means nothing, John says, if your life does not bear witness to God’s justice and love.

Reaching back into the Hebrew Bible, the prophet Amos brought this word of God to the people: “Because you trample on the poor and take from them levies of grain… you… afflict the righteous, … take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate… I hate… I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them” (Amos 5:11a, 12b, 21-22a).

Prophets always remind religious people that the correct observance of rituals means nothing if their hearts are not in the right place. You can say all your prayers and go to services every week, but if you do that while people are suffering from injustice and hunger all around you and do nothing to help, you’ve entirely missed the point. And that’s pretty much what the “spiritual but not religious” people are saying as well.

What’s frustrating to me is when people reject religion entirely when they encounter religious hypocrisy and abuses of power, when they see all the things that are wrong with “religious people.” Because what they’re rejecting isn’t actually an authentic representation of religion. It’s a twisted version, filtered through the lens of sinful humanity. The prophets rejected that kind of religion, too, and yet they were all deeply “religious!”

There’s a common misperception among many people, Christian and non-Christian alike, that Jesus’s message carried with it a rejection of “religion.” They see in Jesus’s critiques of Jewish ritual practice and his scathing rebukes of the religious leaders of his day a rejection of religion altogether. I've heard folks say, "Christianity isn't a religion -- it's a relationship." But Jesus didn’t reject religion; Jesus was a devout Jew. He followed all the rituals and traditions of his faith. As we read in last week’s Gospel, “he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom” (Luke 4:16). He knew the scriptures of his tradition well enough to quote them from memory on a regular basis. He observed the Passover. He did all the things that a “good Jewish boy” of his day would have done. He just didn’t let the observance of those rituals blind him to the meaning behind why they were set up in the first place.

Jesus didn’t reject religion, he rejected a certain kind of religiosity, one that puts ritual observance above love of neighbor, one that puts the letter of the law above the spirit of the law. He rejected the kind of religiosity that would allow someone to die on the Sabbath because it is forbidden to do “work” on the Sabbath and healing them would be considered “work.” He rejected the kind of religiosity that makes people think God owes them something, instead of acknowledging that everything is a gift from God, the kind of religiosity that talks about “birthrights” instead of gifts, about righteousness instead of grace. He rejected the same kind of religiosity that “spiritual but not religious” people reject today.

What Jesus and the prophets came to remind us is that that kind of religiosity is not really being “religious,” it’s being self-righteous. It’s not worshipping God, it’s worshipping self. And it’s condemned in all the major world religions.

“This is the fast that I choose,” God says to the people through the prophet Isaiah; this is what he tells them it means to be “religious”:
“to loose the bonds of injustice…
to let the oppressed go free…
to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house” (Isaiah 58:6-7).

I get the critique of the “spiritual but not religious” folks. I do. It’s easy to want to walk away when you encounter hypocrisy and corruption in any institution. But let’s not let that define what it means to be “religious.” Instead of rejecting religion, let’s be the kind of religious Jesus was. The kind of religious that comes to “bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” – that passage from Isaiah that Jesus quoted in the synagogue in his hometown and said he came to fulfill (Isaiah 61:1-2, quoted in Luke 4). Let's be the kind of religious that reminds us that God can and does work through Canaanites and Syrians as well as Israelites. The kind of religious that acknowledges that “we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part” (1 Corinthians 13:9), that only God knows the full truth. The kind of religious that cultivates humility, not pride, and remembers Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians, that “if I do not love, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2).

Perhaps if we were all that kind of “religious,” people would be drawn to religion instead of repelled by it. Religion could be a part of the solution instead of part of the problem. In our collect for today, we pray for God to “hear the supplications of your people, and in our time grant us your peace” – but we have to play a part in making peace as well. Perhaps God might respond to our prayer with a prayer of his own, that might go something like this:

“O finite and limited human beings, you are indebted to me for all things both in heaven and on earth: Mercifully hear the supplications of my prophets, so that in your time I may use you to bring peace.” Amen.



[1] Steven J. Cole, “Why Religious People Reject Christ.” From the series “Luke,” on Bible.org. Published 6 June 2013 https://bible.org/seriespage/lesson-16-why-religious-people-reject-christ-luke-414-30 Accessed Jan 28 2016.
[2] Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel.
[3] As cited by the 2014 Pew Research Forum survey of religion in American life. Article on the results of that story here: "America's Changing Religious Landscape," published May 12, 2015. http://www.pewforum.org/2015/05/12/americas-changing-religious-landscape/ Accessed Jan 28 2016.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Remember the past or forget the past?

Sermon delivered Sunday, Nov. 17, 2013 (26th Sunday After Pentecost, Proper 28C), at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Franklin, TN (Isaiah 65:17-25, Canticle 9 (Isaiah 12:2-6))

There seems to be a tension between the messages in our two readings from Isaiah today. In the first reading, from Isaiah 65, the prophet brings us this word from God:

“I am about to create new heavens and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.”

But then, right after that, we read Canticle 9, which is from Isaiah chapter 12, which encouraged us to remember the things of the past and the “great things” that God has done:

“Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name;
Make his deeds known among the peoples;
see that they remember that his Name is exalted.
Sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things,
and this is known in all the world.”

So which is it that we’re supposed to do as people who want to be faithful to God – remember the things of the past, or forget the things of the past? Recall and retell the history of our relationship with God, or look for God to do a “new thing” in our midst? Should we look to the past or to the future for our sense of inspiration and connection with God?

The authors of these two passages from Isaiah had different opinions on this question. Even though both passages appear in the book of Isaiah, biblical scholars believe that they were written in two different times in Israel’s history, by different authors.

Isaiah 12, which exhorts the people to remember the “great things” that the Lord has done, was written during a period of Israel’s history when the recent past looked much better than the future. King Uzziah, who had recently died, had led Israel to be a prominent political and military force in the region. But now, the armies of the neighboring Assyrian Empire were gathering on the horizon, and the political future did not look so promising for the nation of Israel. In this context, the prophet calls the people to remember the great things of the past. The “new thing” that seemed immanent – attack by a hostile neighboring country – did not look like it would be a cause for rejoicing.

The writer of Isaiah 65, by contrast, is writing over 150 years later, after the nation of Israel has been defeated by the Babylonian Empire and the Israelites have spent 50 years in exile, away from Jerusalem and the land that was so sacred to them. When the Babylonians were then defeated by the Persians, all the peoples who had been displaced from their homelands under the Babylonians were allowed to return home. Some Israelites returned to Jerusalem, but when they arrived, they found their beloved city in ruins, with their temple, the most holy place in the city, destroyed. All those “great things” that God had done for them in the past that the author of Isaiah 12 had encouraged them to remember seemed a glimmer in the very distant past. Things had gotten so bad that no amount of turning to the past would be a comfort. It is in this context that the writer of Isaiah 65 brings this word from God to the people:

“I am about to create new heavens and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.
But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.”

In this context – after having been to the depths of despair, to a place so low that it seemed they couldn’t go anywhere but up, the future looked brighter than the recent past for the people of Israel. Even though Jerusalem was in ruins, at least they had been allowed to return, and there was hope for the possibility of rebuilding. Dwelling on the loss and destruction of the past, or nurturing nostalgic memories of the way things used to be back in the “glory days” of the kingdom of Israel would only distract them from the necessary task of moving forward. And so the prophet encourages the people to forget the things of old and rejoice in the new thing God is about to do in their midst.

Though these two messages – the call to remember the past and the call to forget the past – can seem contradictory at first glance, the early church saw fit to include them both in our sacred scriptures, and it wasn’t because they were unaware of the tension. No, this tension between celebrating the past and looking to the future lies at the heart of the Christian faith, which, by definition, lives in a tension between the “already” and the “not yet.” We proclaim the truth that in Jesus, “the kingdom of God has come near,” and yet we acknowledge that the fullness of that kingdom will not be realized until the next world. In our Eucharistic proclamation, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again,” we both look to the past for inspiration – in the life, death, and resurrection of the historical Jesus of Nazareth – and find inspiration in the future, through the promise that Christ’s “kingdom” – a new age of justice and peace – will indeed one day come “on earth as it is in heaven,” and it “will have no end.”

And what a blessing it is that both messages are included in our scriptures. There are times when one message seems more comforting or helpful than the other, just as it was for the ancient Israelites.

When we feel grateful and thankful for the many blessings we see and feel all around us, when we are in periods of our lives where we feel safe, happy, and fulfilled, we may find ourselves focusing on the sentiments in Isaiah 12 – “sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things.”

But when we go through those dark periods where, like the Israelites returning from exile in Babylon, we feel that our lives have turned into a series of one calamity after another, of trials and challenges that seem to have no end, when it seems that we have fallen so low that there is nowhere to go but up, we might find comfort in the words of Isaiah 65 – “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” No doubt many in the Phillippines right now, still reeling from the effects of the recent typhoon, would find themselves in this category. When the former things are not things we want to remember, such a message can come as a blessed relief, a source of true joy – that the former things that have caused us such pain and suffering will not be remembered or come to mind, but instead there will be this new creation of a world of peace, where even the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

Which message do you most need to hear in this season of your life? Are you in a place where you feel grateful for the wonderful things God has done in your past, or are you looking ahead, waiting and hoping for an entirely new creation? Are you singing the praises of the Lord because he has done great things, or are you longing for the days when the former things will not be remembered or come to mind?

I invite you to reflect on that question as we move into the season of Advent in a few weeks. This tension between looking backward and looking forward for inspiration and connection with God is particularly relevant during the season of Advent, since Advent both invites us to prepare for the celebration of an event from the past – the birth of Jesus in the first century – and calls us to prepare for an event in the future – the Second Coming of Christ. During Advent, we both “sing the praises of the Lord” for the great thing he has done in the birth of Jesus, and look forward to that new creation promised when Jesus will “return to judge the living and the dead.” As you prepare for Advent this year, think about where the emphasis is in your own life this season – looking back to remember the things God has done in the past, or looking forward to a new creation. Perhaps whichever one of these passages from Isaiah most resonates with you might become a meditation piece for you this Advent.

Of course, it is also important to remember that Scripture does not force us to choose only one way of thinking – EITHER remember and celebrate the past OR forget the past and look to the future. Both motifs are scriptural, and we are given the space to do both. So, if it feels like a false choice between the two, sit with both of them. You can both “sing the praises of the Lord for the great things he has done” AND “rejoice forever in what God is creating anew” in your life.

Because, of course, God has ALWAYS done “new things” in the midst of God’s people, and they never did completely forget the past as they moved into their new ways of being – otherwise they would not have preserved the stories of our faith that have been passed down through the ages. So we too do not have to completely forget the past in order to open ourselves to the new things God will do in our future – we only have to be willing to live with that Advent-flavored tension between the “already” and the “not yet.”