THE SOWER

When Jesus spoke about kings and fathers and masters and landlords in his parables he was not alluding to God. He was speaking about kings and fathers and masters and landlords. (How the early church and the gospel writers appropriated these parables as allegories for their concrete life setting decades later is topic for another post.)

Sunday's lection is about a sower. Yes, a farmer. Then, like now, farmers were among the poorest of the poor. Displaced. Dispossessed. Disenfranchised. During Jesus's time, almost 90% had no land to call their own. Life was so hard half of the population was slowly starving to death. Life was so hard the average life expectancy was 28!

The parable is not about a farmer who did not know how to sow. The parable is about farmers who had no access to agricultural land; farmers who had to sow where it would take a miracle for the seed to actually grow. Along the path, among rocks, among thorns. And the seed that fall on good soil? The good soil owned by the rich, the powerful, and the privileged? They all grow, bringing a yield of a hundred, sixty, thirty fold. A bountiful harvest indeed. For the rich, the powerful, and the privileged.

Do not forget this. Ever. Parables are subversive speech. Parables got Jesus executed.

*art, "The Parable of the Sower," JESUS MAFA 1973 (Cameroon), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.

THE GIFT OF REST

The reality of burn out, of running out of steam has been described as akin to battle fatigue, the feeling of being drained, the feeling of being spent. Thus arose the need for an integrating and rejuvenating spirit, the same breath of life coming, blowing as a second--or third--wind. Those in the struggle need support systems and mechanisms for re-charging and for re-animating. Those in the struggle need to be re-assured that they are not alone. They have to be able to draw strength from the collective reality that--despite being separated by time and space--they have sisters and brothers who have walked, are walking and will walk the same hard road they have chosen to follow.

Few get the opportunity to go on sabbaticals and retreats. Jesus is reported to have gone on retreats when he prayed alone. The transfiguration has been interpreted as Jesus' way of seeking his "second wind" in light of what lay before him at Jerusalem.

How does Jesus himself get the energy to face death? He rests.

How about the majority of people who have to face the nitty-gritty details of struggling through today? How about those who will never, ever, get the luxury of a sabbatical leave or even a weekend free? How about the people who have to confront the violence of poverty as a daily experience of life? Where do they get their first, or second, or third wind? By resting.

The religious leaders in Jesus' time accused him of being a "drunkard and a glutton," no doubt because he loved to host fellowship meals in the homes he stayed in. He loved attending weddings and other community gatherings. Most of his parables centered on these gatherings. It is within the struggling communities' celebrations, not outside, that we receive this "rush" of life. Rest.

Tired and weary, laborers on strike sit down together to have a round of drinks. It is here where people share their frustrations, their dreams, their hopes--amidst the bubbles of beer and the cigarette smoke--that the spirit blows. Soon they are back in the picketlines. Empowered by the brew? No. By rest.

High school students attending a murdered activist's funeral march stop for a little rest. A few are ready to quit because of the heat. Some are ready to quit because of the long 20-kilometer march. A lot more are ready to quit because of the presence of truncheon-wielding police. They share a loaf of bread. It is not much but everyone gets to have a bite. And they continue. Strengthened by the dough? No. By rest.

*image, "My Yoke is Easy and My Burden is Light," photograph from Ecuador (2007), from the vanderbilt divinity library archives.

A CUP OF WATER

What do I think about Sunday's lection from Matthew? As aphorisms (one-liners) from Jesus, I believe these reflect his particular bias for those whose only hope is God. The stranger who needs our welcome, especially the little ones--orphaned children who were considered nobodies. The most vulnerable, for whom the Kingdom of Heaven is for.  

As a Jesus tradition orally transmitted, these aphorisms serve as a daily reminder to care for others. And caring for others does not mean big acts of generosity, but little acts of compassion--a cup of water, a piece of barley loaf. Love is always in the details. 

As a part of Matthew, specifically of chapter 10, it acts as another chord in the hymn of Immanuel that permeates the whole gospel. What does God-with-us really mean? 

We often forget that the best way to experience God's presence in our lives is to be God's presence in someone else's life. Yes, an offering: a cup of water or a piece of barley loaf.

*photo from UNICEF

#ChooseJustice

#GodWithUs

#JusticeForMyanmar

#FreePalestine

#Immanuel

NOT PEACE BUT A SWORD

What does this sword that Jesus brings do? It disrupts, it divides, it disturbs...the Peace. 

The peace founded on war. The peace defined, justified, legislated and imposed by the powerful, propertied, and privileged. The peace built on the blood and bodies of the displaced, dispossessed, disenfranchised, and disemboweled.

The peace where the father was head of the family and everyone was his property. The peace where the rich got richer and declared heaven-blessed, while the poor got worse and judged accursed and destined for hell! 

Historians tell us that Christians were never called peacemakers in the earliest days of the Jesus movement. 

They disrupted. They divided. They were disturbers of the Peace of Rome. Like Jesus. 

Today, the powerful, propertied, and privileged keepers of the Peace call them criminals, rioters, dissenters, communists, and, yes, terrorists! They remain disturbers of the Peace. Like Jesus. 

*image, "The Time Jesus Started a Riot," copyright, Brendan Powell Smith, from Reboot (WordPress). 

Sodom and Gomorrah

Given the breadth and depth of the hurt, discrimination, and senseless deaths brought about by the homophobic reading of the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah, it is critical to go back to what Jesus said about the matter. And what other Biblical passages say. 

Sunday's lection has Jesus telling the disciples, "If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town." 

The prophetic tradition describe what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah as God's judgment against the people's pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease while neglecting the poor, the needy, and strangers. 

One word: inhospitality. Over and over in the Bible, God calls God's people to always care for and to welcome widows, orphans, and strangers. Sodom and Gomorrah failed to do these. Many in Jesus's time failed as well.

Are we guilty of the real sin of Sodom and Gomorrah?

*art, "Sarah and Abraham offer hospitality to the Visitors," mosaic, Ravenna, Italy (from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives). 

THE GIFT OF TOUCH

Like many people I know, I was nurtured in a "touchy-feely" culture. Many of our pains-- physical or otherwise--were soothed and massaged away by the healing touch of our loved ones. Holding, hugging, and kissing were all integral parts of our growing up years. 

Many times, Vick's Vapor Rub was part of the ritual. "Haplos ng pagmamahal!" Touching helped in making us feel safe, loved, and not alone. We learned the science behind all these "touching moments" much later. 

Many of the healing narratives in the Gospels involve touching. Sunday's lection has two sections: the first part has a woman suffering for twelve years who touches Jesus's cloak; in the second part, Jesus touches a twelve-year old girl's hand and tells her to rise up.

Many of the quarantine protocols we've had to live with for three years were anti-poor because these assumed that everyone had a home to work from, that everyone had work, and that everyone had online access. 

Physical distancing has made so many socially distant. Alone. Depressed. Afraid. Ill. Desperate to touch someone or be touched. And experience healing. 

Friends, please let us go and help someone heal. Today. 

*art, "Woman with the Flow of Blood," Frank Wesley (1923-2002) available at vanderbilt divinity library archives.

**read "How to Hug During a Pandemic" (The New York Times) 

IMMANUEL

William Carrey's 87-page pamphlet, "An Inquiry into the Obligation of Christians to Use Means for the Conversion of the Heathen," was an exposition of Matthew 28: 19-20. Published in 1792, it is considered as the first published work on the theology of missions. Centuries later, interpreters of the passage, which is Sunday's lection, still resonate with Carrey's exposition. Many missions dedicated to convert the "heathen" continue to be grounded on Carrey's exposition of "The Great Commission."

I have always argued that Immanuel, "God-with-Us," serves as the thread that binds the 28 chapters of the Gospel of Matthew. The Gospel, in 1.23, proclaims that Mary's son will be called Immanuel, meaning "God-with-Us" (echoing Isaiah 7.14). At the end of the Gospel, in 28. 20, Jesus proclaims, "I am with you always..." God-with-Us to the end of the age! The Gospel has one promise. We will never, ever, be alone.

One can ask, "What does it mean to experience Immanuel, to feel God's presence in our lives?" And, more often than not, the answer is, "Be God's presence in someone else's life!" Matthew's Jesus was.

Friends, our great commission is to do likewise. Do what Jesus did. Feed the hungry. Visit the prisoners. Welcome the stranger. Befriend the lonely. Let people know for sure that they are not alone, and then they will feel God's presence.

*art, "The Mission to the World," (JESUS MAFA, 1973, Cameroon), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.

PENTECOST

Many scholars agree that Sunday's lection contains John's version of the Pentecost. If the Acts' version happened 50 days after Jesus’s resurrection, John's happened on Easter evening.

I would like to share my take on verse 23.

Sin is legislated. Resistance is criminalized. Dissent is demonized. The merger of political and religious power predates Pontius Pilate's and Joseph Caiaphas's conjugal dictatorship.

If we read our Bibles and pray everyday, we will grow, grow, grow in this realization: sinners are, more often than not, synonymous with the poor, oppressed, and marginalized in the Gospels.

Who can afford the offerings in the temple and thus be cleansed of their sins? Who has the resources to bribe authorities and thus be declared not guilty? Who writes the law and for whose benefit?

Over and over in the Gospels, Jesus sins (against the Sabbath) and heals sinners. Over and over in the Gospels, Jesus declares sinners forgiven...to the consternation of the people who legislate sin.

In John 20:23, Jesus, after breathing on them to receive the Holy Spirit, commands his disciples to forgive and not to forgive. A better translation, echoing Matthew 16:19 and 18:18, is worded "to set free or to bind."

Jesus' command has not changed. Set free the poor. Bind the powerful who keep them poor. Friends, are you and I faithful to his command?

*art, "Pentecost," JESUS MAFA, 1973 (Cameroon), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.

JESUS PRAYS FOR US

There are those among us who grew up in Christian communities that taught "all prayers need to end with 'in Jesus's name.'" There are those among us who grew up in churches that had regular prayer meetings and 24-hour prayer chains or prayer warriors. I am sure some of us have experienced falling asleep while we were praying.

Sunday's lection is part of what scholars call Jesus’s Farewell Discourse (chapters 14-17). Jesus knows he will be separated from his friends very soon. Imagine a line, a boundary, a threshold that Jesus had to cross, alone. A line his friends could not cross--not yet.

What does Jesus do? He prays for his friends. More importantly, he asks God to protect his friends. He asks God three times in his prayer.

I believe most of us read our Bibles and pray every day. Many of us pray several times a day. There are those among us who pray without ceasing. Oftentimes, our long prayers are often only about ourselves. There are also those who pray for those whose only hope is God. Then there are those, in these trying times, who need to cross lines, boundaries, and thresholds who need our prayers.

In all of these, we pray to Jesus. We ask. We beg. We cry. We are the ones praying.

Thus, many among us miss the point of our lection. Jesus is praying for his friends--not for himself. He prays for his loved ones when he, a man slated for execution by the state, has every reason to pray for himself!

In the midst of hopelessness and despair when we are most vulnerable and alone, Jesus lifts us in prayer. Good news indeed! JESUS. PRAYS. FOR. US!


*art, "The Ascension," JESUS MAFA, 1973 (Cameroon), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.

 

I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU ORPHANED

The infant mortality rate in the ancient world was 50%. Aristotle said that many of the babies who survived childbirth died before their seventh day! Many mothers died at childbirth so their children only survived because of wet nurses. Research has also shown that half of the population were fatherless by the time they reached 15 years of age.

Orphans were the most vulnerable people in the ancient world.

1 Esdras 3:19 and 4. 1-12 talk about the greatest contrasts in human life: free and slave, rich and poor, king and orphan. And the widest gap is in the contrast of the king and the orphan. The king was on top of the power structure, the ophan at the bottom. The king had absolute power, the ophan had none. Thus, in many ancient laws, the king is tasked to care for orphans. In the Hebrew Bible, God commits Godself to always care for orphans! In the Hebrew Bible, God reveals Godself as a wet nurse.

Jesus, in Sunday's lection, echoes the same commitment, "I will not leave you ophaned." He knew what being an orphan meant. I am sure most if not all his disciples were ophans as well.

Orphans remain one of the most vulnerable people today. Someone right now--alone, abandoned, afflicted--needs to hear Jesus's comforting words: "I will not leave you orphaned."

And who can they hear it from? A teacher. A pastor. A farmer. A no-longer distant relative. Just as the face of God can be on anybody's face, so too can the voice and compassion of a mother come from anybody.

*image, "Wet Nurse," (Roman Antiquity, from Google Zoeken, CTT0).

 

ROOMS FOR EVERYONE!

Sunday's lection provides an alternative vision to a world where displacement, dispossession, discrimination, and disenfranchisement occur on a daily basis, especially against the most vulnerable in our society.

We used to sing "Mansion Over the Hilltop" in church to affirm this alternative vision from the Gospel of John. Most modern Bible translations now use "rooms" or "dwelling places" instead of "mansions". (The New King James Version still uses "mansions".)

Sunday's alternative vision has at least three challenges for us who take pride in calling ourselves followers of the Risen One.

First, God's house has space--safe space--for everyone! All are welcome there. Second, Jesus will make sure everyone has a room. He will prepare each and every room. Finally, Jesus himself will welcome everyone to God's house! So that where he is, we will all be there also.

The vision is God's vision for the world God loves, not God's vision for heaven or anywhere else. The vision requires hard work. And we, my friends, you and I, are part of the realization of this vision.


*art, "All Are Welcome," book cover of the New York Times bestselling book by Alexandra Penfold and Suzanne Kaufman.

THE SHEEP AND THEIR SHEPHERD

Many of us grew up with this passage from John 10. Many among us grew up with allegorical interpretations of this passage. The shepherd is not really a shepherd. The gatekeeper is really not a gatekeeper. The sheep are really not sheep. The thief and the bandit are not really thieves nor bandits.

Real sheep do know the voice of their shepherd. Sheep do follow their shepherd in and out of the sheepfold. Sheep do run away from those whose voice they do not know. Ask any shepherd.

Life in all its fullness is not inside the sheepfold. Never has been, never will be. No green grass. No fresh springs. All these are outside of it, in the wilderness. This is why the shepherd calls out the sheep by name and leads them out--into the wilderness. This is why the shepherd goes ahead of the sheep and they follow him--into the wilderness and into the quest for life. Life in all its fullness.

Friends, many times we forget that life in all its fullness is found outside the boxes we have created to contain it. Many times the life that really matters is waiting for us out in the wilderness. We just need to heed the voice of the Risen One who is already out there waiting for us.

*art, "The Good Shepherd," Julien Dupre (1851-1910), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.  

THE RISEN ONE COMES AS A STRANGER

Who are the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the unwelcomed, and the prisoner that Jesus challenges us to serve, to take sides with, and to love? The stranger.

Who are the widows, the orphans, the indigenous peoples, and the foreigners that, over and over, the Law and the Prophets enjoin us to care for, to hold dear, and to treat as sisters and brothers? The stranger.

Who are the daily wage earners, the laborers who survive from paycheck to paycheck, the homeless, the jobless, and the most vulnerable in a world ravaged by the pandemic that we are supposed to prioritize? Yes, the stranger.

If we read our Bibles and pray everyday, then we will grow in the realization that, most often than not, God comes as a stranger. God did when God shared the promise of Isaac's birth. God did when God judged the arrogance and inhospitality of Sodom and Gomorrah. God did when God wrestled with Jacob at Jabbok.

God came as a stranger when God was born in a manger instead of a palace; in Galilee instead of Jerusalem; among the odorized and the otherized; grew up in a mud hut instead of a white house.

God does as the Risen One: waiting for us to meet up in Galilee; reminding us that we will never be alone; calling the rich among us to sell everything we have, to give the proceeds to the poor, and to follow... In Sunday's lection, two disciples on the road to Emmaus encounter the Risen One as a complete stranger. Their eyes were eventually opened and their hearts strangely warmed when the stranger broke bread with them.

God always comes as a stranger. This is why we welcome the dispossessed, the displaced, the disenfranchised. This is why we open our homes, our churches, our spaces to Lumads, to People Living with HIV and AIDS, to refugees, to Palestinians, to those whose only hope is God.

God always comes as a stranger. This is why we always, always offer sanctuary. And these days, sanctuary can mean that extra room in our house, the available spaces in our church offices and buildings, the vacant rooms in our dormitories, and, yes, that extra bed. Safe spaces. Open hearts. Open minds. Open doors. Or five barley loaves and two fish.

*art, "Jesus appears at Emmaus," JESUS MAFA, 1973 (Cameroon), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.