Category: Scriptural Maunderings

In Liturgy-speak, this is Proper 19 (24), Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A.  In normal-speak, it’s 9/11, which makes this (very) occasional series of thoughts about a given Sunday’s readings at our (Episcopal) church a bit more of a challenge.

The theme for the week’s readings (to my mind) is Forgiveness. Always an interesting topic, especially today.

First Reading: Exodus 14:19-31

The Israelites flee across the Red Sea, while the Pharaoh’s troops get drowned.  It’s a thrilling epic (esp. with Yul Brynner as Pharaoh), but pretty Old Testament in its treatment of God.

I’ve always like the gloss on this in the Talmud:

When the Egyptians were drowning in the Red Sea, the angels in heaven began to break forth in songs of jubilation, but the Holy One, blessed be He, silenced them: “My creatures are perishing — and ye are ready to sing!”

That Lord, at least, shows some remorse over what’s happening, whether or not it was necessary. In Exodus, all we get is a  demonstration designed to impress the Israelites (and to instill fear in them).  Meh.

Epistle: Romans 14:1-12

Paul can be damned persnickety at times, but I like a lot of this passage.

Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions.  Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them. Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.

Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds. Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. For it is written, “As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall give praise to God.” So then, each of us will be accountable to God.

Shorter Paul: “Don’t be critical of others religious opinions or practices. That’s between them and God, just like yours are between you and God.  Get over it.”

Given how much blood has been spilled — by Christians, often of Christians — over differences of theology or religious practice, it’s a shame that particular reading or parts of it aren’t in bold print and tattooed on certain people when they get in a tizz over this stuff.

The dividing line, I guess, is while tolerance of others (and the lack of hubris and arrogance to think you’re the One Whose Right in All Things) is a positive trait, you also can’t just shrug and say, “Well, yeah, I’m not all that jiggy with human sacrifice, but, hey, that’s between you and God.”  There are things that people do on their lives, sacred and profane, that are rightful to prevent.

But it’s not something to do casually, without consideration.  Is what they are doing actually harmful to others (the Lord can take care of Himself), or are you just “quarreling over opinions”?

And that brings us to …

Gospel: Matthew 18:21-35

One of my favorite Gospel passages, and one of the toughest to live up to.

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”

Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves.When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made.

“So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.

“But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt.

“When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.

“So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

The parable can be summed up in the words of the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” (Or “tresspasses” or “debts,” choose your term).  If you hold with the Christian belief that God forgives even the worst sins that we commit, if sincerely repented, then to the extent that we are called upon to be like God, we must strive to forgive.

Forgiveness isn’t a one-off act. It’s not easy. It’s not straightforward. It’s not always possible, in the face of an offense against us.  But it’s something we should be striving toward, processing toward, aspiring toward in every case we can.

(N.B. There are those that take the subject of what Peter asks — which more commonly is translated as “brother” — and try to make it out to mean we’re only called upon to forgive fellow Christians, not folks of other religious.  To which I can only imagine Jesus shaking his head sadly.)

Christians are called to forgive.  To figure out how to extend our mercy the same way God extends mercy to us.  To be transformed from an Eye for an Eye, or to folks who cheer when Pharaoh’s troops are drowned.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetfulness. And turning the other cheek doesn’t necessarily mean allowing hatred and pain and abuse and bloodshed to continue. It doesn’t mean letting the guilty walk, to hurt someone else.  It means seeing beyond the offender’s hatred, or ignorance.  It means not letting the offenders actions control ours.  It means recognizing our own shortcomings (and more), and …

*     *     *

I took a long pause in the writing of this post at that point.  Went off, did some other things.  Came back. Still couldn’t go on.

See, there are things that I can’t tell people they should forgive.  I can see that they are being corroded from within by those things, but it’s not my place to tell them how the must, or should, or perhaps even might address them.

A woman raped forgive her rapist?  A person abused as a child forgive their abuser?  Someone being hit, lynched, tortured, oppressed, cheated, unjustly accused or imprisoned or fired or blamed forgive all the people involved in that offense?

I cannot tell them what to do.

And, yeah, Jesus, condemned unjustly, beaten, humiliated, nailed to a cross, said “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” But maybe that’s not true, and even if it’s not true, that’s Jesus and that was his job.

Forgiveness is hard.  And not something you can demand of others to give.

So all I can do is try to forgive, myself.  (Both with and without the comma.)  Just like I can’t, and won’t, impose my moral code on others, or try to persuade them to it, what I can do is try to live my life in the way I think a life should be lived.  With forgiveness.

Which isn’t any easier.

People sometimes ask me why I go to church. Even if my attendance has been a bit more lax over the past several months, I still consider it important.  And part of that is just this — going to church confronts me with what I actually believe, on at least a  weekly basis.  And not just “do you really think that Jonah was swallowed by a whale” kind of “quarrelling” stuff, but the important “do you really believe in forgiveness, and for whom, and when, and why” kind of stuff.

Because I’m a lazy SOB, and if I don’t set up my life to think about these things now and again, I’ll take the far easier path.  And that’s not what I want.  It’s what I’m more comfortable with, but not what I want.

*     *     *

One of my favorite TV shows of the 80s was The Equalizer.  Edward Woodward played a former spy/agent/operative now trying to something new with his life, using his talents and connections to “equalize” things for those who were oppressed, in fear, at their wit’s end.  (In some very odd ways, it’s bears a mutant resemblance to one of my current favorite shows, Leverage.  But I digress.)

In one of the early episodes of the series, Woodward’s character deals with a crooked cop in ways that, he realizes, are dragging him back into the abyss of his amoral “do whatever it takes” days with The Agency.  And, in confronting the cop, he confesses that, and slams him against the wall, repeatedly saying, “And that, I will not forgive! I do not forgive! I do not forgive!”

(I loved that show.  It’s a travesty that only the first season is available on DVD.)

I forgive, when I can break away from what I know hurt me, and continues to hurt me.  It doesn’t mean letting myself be hurt again.  It means turning what has hurt me into something that no longer does.

We are animals programmed to break others out in to Us vs Them.  Me (and those who support, care for, look like, protect, act the same as me) vs. All You Other Folk.

Part of what forgiveness does for me is break me out of that dynamic.  There are those who have wronged me.  Are they perpetually in the Them category, people with whom I am at war, who are less than human, who are my enemies and subjects of my hatred?

*     *     *

So let’s get down to brass tacks, because this is still (for another hour by my clock) 9/11.

There are two sets people who, as Jesus would tell me, I need to forgive, if I am, myself, to be forgiven.

There are the hijackers, and those who concocted their plot. These are men who willingly killed thousands, just to express their anger, their hatred, their disdain for their enemies.  Who wanted to create a war between Islam and Christendom. Who wanted to destroy America, not through the actual attacks they made, but by causing us (like the Soviet Union in Afghanistan in the 80s) to exhaust ourselves against phantoms and will-o-the-wisps that could be, perhaps, killed individually, but never at a cost that could be sustained.

These were men (and the occasional woman) who decided (those who entered into this faithfully) that their Deity wanted them to do this, would reward them for their part, and were willing to slaughter people they were willing to see as enemies to that end.

Can I forgive them?

Then there are those in America who saw this as an opportunity. Who saw this as a fulfillment of their fears. Who saw this as an avenue to power, by manipulating the populace into fearful compromises of their freedoms.  Who turned this into a never-ending war. Who turned this into a way to strike at those they thought were our enemies (whether they were involved in 9/11 or not).  Who saw this as a way to extend their influence. Who saw this as a way to exercise power over America, even as they changed what the meaning of America was.

Can I forgive them?

No easy answers there.  I am called to forgive them all, but even with the understanding that doesn’t mean letting them just walk away to hurt others, it’s not in me to do so.

Yet.

I can oppose them, whether I forgive them or not.

But can I forgive them, and stop them having power over my feelings? Can I extend the universal mercy and patience I believe that God possesses (even beyond what normal orthodox Christianity would apply)?

Would I be content seeing Osama bin Laden or Dick Cheney (just to grab two names out of a hat) welcomed into the Kingdom of God, forgiven (and, in infinite time, repentant) of their sins?

It’s an easy thing to answer in the abstract.

It’s a tough thing to answer in the gut.

And what does that mean to me, in my mind, if I can’t?

Another Sunday of readings, another Sunday of considerations …

This is a series of posts (look, ma, I have a category now!) about my reactions to the week’s reading’s in church. I attend an Episcopalian church, and the readings are from the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, NRSV translation.

Old Testament: Isaiah 35:1-10

This being Advent, the focus is all on Jesus coming and what it all means.  Isaiah is the classic prophet here (just look at Handel’s Messiah for proof of that) and here he’s waxing lyrical, during the Babylonian Captivity, about what it will mean when God finally turns His favor on His people — either regarding a return of Israel to its Promised Land from captivity, or, as later interpreted, regarding Jesus coming to the Earth.

Much of what is described is what someone living in the desert climates of the Middle East would refer to as paradise and blessing: rain and lush crops and running water and growing plants. But amidst it — in a pattern we will see for other Scripture — are to whom particular blessings will come:

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.

…

And the ransomed of the LORD shall return,

and come to Zion with singing;

everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;

they shall obtain joy and gladness,

and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

The message here is clear: those who are suffering will no longer suffer.  Those who are oppressed, burdened, hurt by the world, shall be joyful.

Epistle: James 5:7-10

I like James.  Unlike Paul (who takes up most of the Epistles) or John (who ends the New Testament on a psychodelic note), James (usually associated with James the brother of Jesus) is down to earth and practical in his spiritual practices. He comes across as far less doctrinal than Paul, and far more related to the human condition.

This passage urges patience (like a farmer for his crops) for the return of Jesus.  More notably for contemporary Christians, he urges:

Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.

Would that fewer Christians grumbled against each other.  And would that more considered the suffering of the prophets (and other faithful across history) before playing the “Oh, we’re being oppressed!” card in response to someone disagreeing with them.

Gospel: Matthew 11:2-11

This passage continues discussion of John the Baptist — the wild man preaching in the wilderness — vs. Jesus.  John, imprisoned, sends word to Jesus trying to confirm whether he, Jesus,  is the dude that he, John the Baptist, was preaching about.

Jesus provides his bonafides of being from God:

Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

What strikes me here is who stands as evidence of Jesus being the one John had been preaching about.  Jesus doesn’t come in talking about how he is here to praise the pious and reward those who are secure in their earthly treasures.  Instead, his message back to John is about how he’s done good thing for the blind, the lame, the lepers, the deaf, the dead, the poor.  Jesus’ ministry is focused on those who are powerless, outside of society, those unjustly belittled and condemned.

As today, society considered the lowest of the low there, not just out of circumstance, but out of some sort of moral judgment.  Just as today some say the unemployed are that way because of the government dole and their own personal failings, so then some considered the poor, the lame, the afflicted as suffering so because they were morally inferior. Jesus’ message here was clear: God is most interested in their comfort and redemption.  He is most focused on them, not those who are comfortable in their orthodoxy and their financial portfolios.

The message continues, even more clearly:

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.”

All I can think of in this passage is about those “dressed in soft robes,” whether they be orthodox clerics in ancient vestments of solemnity and authority, or televangelists in finely tailored suits, and whether the “royal palaces” are ancient cathedrals or modern megachurches.  From this passage, Jesus is less impressed by such trappings of material success and popularity than he is in a guy running around in crude clothing in the wilderness — so long as that guy is adhering to his message of caring for the outcast and neglected.

Those who choose to speak in authority in Christian churches should consider which personage they would most resemble, if Jesus were to confront them about it.

Yet another series of personal impressions from todays Episcopal readings from the Revised Common Lectionary, Proper 28, Year C, NRSV translation.

Old Testament: Isaiah 65:17-25

Isaiah waxes lyrical over the paradise to come.

I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime … They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat.

For a people who have dealt with invasion and defeat and exile, this promise of the future is both concrete and compelling.  God’s promised land on Earth will be free from sorrow, infant mortality, early death, or injustice. I think most people would like something like that. Makes you wonder how folks reconcile “tax cuts for the rich” and “welfare is for lazy poor people”  with the Bible.

Epistle: 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

On the surface at least, a fine indictment of what one would consider stereotypical televangelist and religious pundit behavior.

Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, and we did not eat anyone’s bread without paying for it; but with toil and labor we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. … For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living

Even for those who manage to interpret this passage as an indictment against welfare recipients (“Anyone unwilling to work should not eat”) should consider what work is available and how we bridge the gap between labor, pay, and survival.

Gospel: Luke 21:5-19

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, Jesus said, “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

Nobody loves lovely church architecture more than I. But while I think it is of value, as an inspiration, it is surely of perishable nature, and should not be made an idol. The folks at the Crystal Cathedral should certainly be considering that.

Jesus then goes into a lengthy tale of the end times.

And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, `I am he!’ and, `The time is near!’ Do not go after them.

I think of this every time I hear of someone proclaiming that these are the end times.

“When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

These words have been identified with every era since they were recorded as Jesus’ prophecy. There are always wars, natural disasters, and exceptional “portents” and “signs.”  But, as Jesus notes elsewhere, “No man shall know the day or hour.” Claiming we are in the end times (thus, keep your financial support coming) is the work of frauds and swindlers. End time or not, the commandment to love God and one’s neighbor reigns supreme.

“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

One wonders about those who spend so much time railing over persecution of Christians — most of which (in a US context) amounts to “They said we were doo-doo heads!” accusations. Someone who is truly following Jesus’ teaching, encountering what they saw as persecution, would not only turn the other cheek and forgive, but rejoice as it is a sign of God’s favor and, ultimately, the triumph of the Word.

Though, to be fair, if what you’re  most concerned about is political power and dominion over society, people calling you “doo-doo heads” would be most disconcerting, regardless of what Jesus said.

This past Sunday we celebrated All Saints’ Day (officially 1 November, but celebrated the Sunday following by us Episcopalians).    Some thoughts on the Scripture appointed (Revised Common Lectionary, Cycle C, NRSV translation).

Old Testament: Daniel 7:1-3,15-18

Daniel has a prophetic dream about four beasts, which gets interpreted for him as representing four kings, but that “the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom.” Um, okay.

Epistle: Ephesians 1:11-23

Paul says that Christians rock. Basically. No real teachings here except God thought Christ was cool, and his followers are cool, too.  Saints, yay!

New Testament: Luke 6:20-31

If the previous readings are mostly fillers on the subject of saintliness, this one brings it on big time: the Beatitudes.  They bear some special examination, because they hold (or should hold) special meaning for all Christians.

“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

As much as Christ is said to have come for all humanity, his most overt mission was to the outcast, the marginalized, the folks that nobody paid attention to (or thought worth paying attention).  In a world where success was measured in money, and religious status was dictated by lineage and donation size and how nice your go-to-Temple clothes were, the majority were left out in the cold, struggling along to get enough to eat, despised for their lack of worldly power and ritualistic impurity.

Jesus turns that on its head, and speaks to the folks who had gathered around him for healing of body and soul.  He tells them that the poor, the hungry, the sorrowful, all aren’t forsaken and ignored in Heaven, let alone being punished by God. He says, no matter what society may judge, these outsiders are loved and considered at least as important as anyone else.

While some have used these passages to justify leaving the poor to their own devices (“See? God is okay with their being hungry because they’ll get something special after they die”), or even to placate the poor into not rising up into rebellion (“See? You guys are are really well off because God’s going to treat you really well after you kick off, so get that harvest in, chop-chop!”), taken with the rest of his ministry (indeed, and the passages to follow), those are perverse interpretations of these words.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

To my mind, this isn’t meant to comfort just for religious dissenters (though it’s worth remembering), but for anyone who does good or follows the principles of Christ’s teaching (forgiveness, generosity, compassion) and gets a slap in the face back for it from the individuals involved or from society.

On the other hand, you’d think the folks on the Right kvetching about how Christianity is being “persecuted” in this country (!) would take some consolation here.

“But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
“Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets

Yikes.

This one’s for the televangelists and high and mighty amongst the churches, wearing fine clothing and living content with their lives.  This one is for the wealthy who claim that it’s a sign of God’s favor — that their virtue has led to them becoming prosperous. This one is for the multi-millionaire politicians (and Tea Partiers, for that matter) who think of all those poor and miserable and destitute as shirkers, lazy bums, parasites on society, who see compassion and generosity as weaknesses, of taking something they’ve earned and giving it away to someone else without getting something back.

It’s more than that, of course — it’s arguably aimed at pretty much anyone.  Heck, I’m rich, relative to so many (in this country, let alone this planet).  I certainly don’t go hungry. And I laugh a lot.  People even say nice things about me.

And being content with that, and ignoring what I’m commanded to do for my neighbor and the outcasts … puts me in as much danger as it does pious Senators who think if they just cut off unemployment insurance, it’ll decrease their taxes and get those slug-a-beds back to work (preferably some place un-unionized).

And just to make it all clear, Jesus then goes from blessing (and warning) to some direct commands:

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

Damn socialist-pacifist hippy!

Any Christian who doesn’t follow these words needs to do some very fancy-footwork — in this world and the next — as to how they can claim to follow Christ’s commands. Myself included.

For the Sunday closest to September 28 (Pentecost 18),  Proper 21, Year C, RCL, NRSV, etc., etc., etc.

I’ve been a bit lax in these the past few weeks — spotty Sunday attendance, busy Sunday afternoons, etc.  But something caught my eye today that made me think I wanted to catch up on some readings I missed this past Sunday … especially in view of some, ah, current blog postings here.

Old Testament: Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15

Part of my slowness in keeping up with these is that Jeremiah is just so … Jeremiac. “Hey, Israel — you’re doing bad, so the LORD is gonna chew you up and spit you out.”  Which is questionable theology, but also gets very old and repetitive, very fast.

During the siege of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar — a siege Jeremiah prophesies will mean the downfall of the city (conveniently recorded later), Jeremiah spends some money on some property around Jerusalem and has a copy of the deed/receipt stashed into hiding so that after the upcoming Exile, his descendents will be able to claim the property.  Lesson: spend money toward the future, and with faith.

Okay.  Well at least it’s a bit less of the “and thou shallt all be smitten!” kind of Jeremiah. Given how things have worked out so far with the Palestinians claiming the Right of Return, though, I wouldn’t hold my breath about being able to claim property after a long exile.

Epistle: 1 Timothy 6:6-19

Paul (or whomever wrote this book — scholars are undecided, and it may be a mixed bag of Pauline and non-Pauline content) talks toward the end of this letter about wealth and godliness. It’s worth quoting at length.

There is great gain in godliness combined with contentment; for we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.

Neither mention of yachts, vacation homes, Xboxes, nor trips to Europe.  It’s easy to poke fun at telling people to be content — but to be discontent over material things after the Maslovian basics is to invite life-long unhappiness.

But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.

I think we can all come up with people we know — directly or indirectly — who have wounded themselves in just this way. The problem is when they wound others along the way, too.

Wealth and material things are not condemned here, specifically, but a turning toward them as the goal. “Greed is good” and “The Prosperity Gospel” and “Why am I being punished by having the marginal taxes on my millions increased by a few percentage points?”

But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.

Decent enough goals to strive toward, especially taken as a whole.

After chatting about how cool Jesus was, Paul wraps up:

As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.

Y’know, if more folks claiming to follow Christ followed those bolded directives, it might do more to provide witness for their faith than all the letter-to-the-editor, march-on-Washington, scribble-arrows-on-a-chalkboard angry activism in the world.

Gospel: Luke 16:19-31

Another Sunday, another parable:

Jesus said, “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.

Damned lazy beggar, he should have been working, dagnabbit, rather than waiting for hand-outs!

The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, `Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, `Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.

Hey, what kind of liberal-lefty-socialist propaganda is this?

Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, `Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house– for I have five brothers– that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, `They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, `No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, `If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'”

Cue heavy foreshadowing!

Now, I am a Universalist, in that I believe that there is no such thing as eternal torment, and that eventually, through many lessons, we become whatever is necessary to achieve permanent rest, salvation, or whatever Grand Purpose there may be (don’t look at me, I’m the dumb kid in the back of the classroom eating glue). So I don’t go for the Great Chasm and all that.

But eschatology aside, the message from Jesus here is stunningly clear: rich guy, wallowing in richness, goes to hell; poor guy, tormented by poverty, goes to heaven.

That’s a bit simplistic (poverty does not necessarily equal virtue, nor richness vice), but for parable purposes it’s pretty clear, and it stands as a fine example of Glenn Beck’s dreaded social justice (“the idea of creating an egalitarian society … that is based on the principles of equality and solidarity, that understands and values human rights, and that recognizes the dignity of every human being” — which, as we all know, was invented by Hitler).  At the very least, it stand in repudiation of the idea (still held by some, particularly the wealthy) that richness equals virtue (or, at least, importance and divine favor) and poverty equals vice (unimportance and divine disfavor).

If you are not, as Paul puts it “doing good, being rich in good works, generous, and ready to share,” then you are focused on wealth as an end to itself, an idol, placing it higher than God or one’s neighbor.

That never ends well.  As the rich man in the parable finds out. And which some of our rich who claim to be preaching God’s stern lessons while raking in the moolah may well find out, too.