KRISTER STENDAHL AND THE NINE LEPERS

During my first year of graduate school, I had the privilege of presenting a paper at the Society of Biblical Literature's annual meeting in Orlando, Florida. I did not expect Krister Stendahl* to be in the audience--he was in the front row. I did not expect him to come up the stage after the presentation and introduce himself to me--he did.

I did not expect him to remember me when we saw each other again in the following year's SBL meeting in Boston--he did remember me. He even remembered my paper, and asked if he could join me for lunch. Those very priceless moments with Bishop Stendahl seem surreal to this day.

He was interested in my argument that faith being a response to grace resonated with "utang na loob" being a response to "kagandahang loob". And that the best way to respond to grace by faith is to to pay it forward. The best way to love God, our Parent, is to love our sisters and brothers. I used the story of the ten lepers to unpack the concept. And the narrative is Sunday's lection.

We expected the ten lepers who were healed to go back to Jesus to express their gratitude. But only one returned to do so. And most of our interpretations have celebrated this one who returned. How about the "ungrateful" nine? Is it not possible that they paid it forward? Is it not better if an act of kindness is repaid by doing an act of kindness to someone else instead of returning the favor?

Isn't serving the people--especially widows, orphans, and strangers--the greatest expression of our gratitude for God's grace?

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*Krister Stendahl (1921-2008) was Bishop of Stockholm (Sweden), theologian, and New Testament scholar. He served as professor and dean of the Harvard Divinity School. His works on Paul are required reading in many seminaries.

+art, "The Healing of the Ten Lepers," JESUS MAFA, 1973 (from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives).

THE RACE AGAINST ERASURE

 

I am sure most of us have heard sermons about moving mountains (Mark 11. 22-23, Matthew 21: 20-22) or uprooting trees (Luke 17: 5-6) with our mustard seed-sized faith.

Sycamore-Mulberry trees have deep and wide root systems that are invasive and damaging to the soil system. These roots cause problems to other plants.

Historians offer information on two possible mountains Jesus may have been referring to: The Temple Mount and Herod the Great's Herodium.

Herod was called the Great Master Builder and was responsible for the man-made harbor at Caesarea Maritima, the fortress at Masada, the magnificent Temple Mount, and the Herodium (his palace and burial site). Herod, through forced labor and heavy taxation, literally moved mountains to build the last two monuments to his greatness.

It's hard to imagine a tiny mustard seed winning against a huge Sycamore-Mulberry tree, but I would like to believe that Jesus was challenging his listeners that it can be done--because it had been done. David brought down Goliath with one stone to the head.

Whether Jesus was talking about the Temple Mount or the Herodium, I would like to believe that he was challenging his listeners to have the faith that any man-made mountain that is built on exploitation, dehumanization, and oppression can be brought down, and thrown into the sea....

If we work together.

These days, huge man-made mountains and deeply rooted trees of prejudice, discrimination, homophobia, demonization, dehumanization, comodification, patriarchy, imperialism, and injustice reign in our world.

Fake news, misinformation, disinformation, disenfranchisement, red-tagging, and character assassination serve as the ruling classes' primary tools in its grand project of erasing dissent, resistance, and works of genuine transformation.

The race against erasure is now. It can be done. It had been done. David brought down Goliath with one stone to the head.

*image is from the "times of israel" (herodium/herods-mountain-hideaway)

LAZARUS AND THE RICH MAN

Scholars tell us of two ancient stories that resonate with Sunday's lection. One is Egyptian, the other rabbinical. The former is about the reversal of fortunes in the afterlife. The latter was about Abraham's servant Eleazar (Lazarus in Greek) who walked the earth in disguise to check on Abraham's children's observance of God's command to care for the poor, especially orphans, widows, and strangers.

In Jesus's version, Lazarus wasn't in disguise. He was so poor, sick, and starving that his plight was described by Abraham as evil. He was in such a dehumanizing state that his company was street dogs. He died alone and was not even buried. Being buried is the last act of human decency that societies have practiced for millenia. Lazarus died and no one was around to bury him. God had to send angels to bring him to Abraham's bosom.

The rich man feasted every day. He also died. He was buried--I'm sure in grand fashion, with scores of professional crying ladies.

Today, the world spends more money on dog food than on basic health care or basic literacy programs for the most vulnerable communities. Today, 25,000 people starve to death daily while one country has enough resources to feed 40 billion people! (That's six times the population of the world.)

Today, Lazaruses abound outside our homes, our offices, and our places of worship: homeless, jobless, hopeless... Suffering alone! And we, like Cain, smugly assert, "Am I my brother's keeper?" We, like Senator Jinggoy Estrada, tell the victims and surivors of the evil Martial Law Regime, "What is there to apologize for? Move on na tayo." Unless we change, unless we repent, we will be in agony, tormented by flames in Hades. With the rich man. And with Jinggoy.

*art, "The Rich Man and Lazarus," JESUS MAFA, 1973, from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives.

THE DEBT MANAGER

Sunday's parable from Luke 16 has been interpreted so many different ways. Some work. Some do not, especially those that insist that the rich master is a metaphor for God.

The rich master is a rich master. Charges are brought against his debt manager or steward for dishonesty. Apparently, other debt managers want him out of the picture, thus the charges.

The manager--finding his position in jeopardy and knowing he cannot do manual labor and is ashamed to beg--does what most anyone would do in his situation: use the system of debts and indebtedness to his advantage. Find a way to make sure that he does not end up on the streets. He cuts his losses by literally cutting his commission.

What he does gets him his job back. His rich master commends him. And those in debt are now beholden, not just to the rich master, but also to the manager.

This is the way things actually work. This is the evil of debt, then and now. That is why the rich are still rich and continue to get richer. This is why the poor plea, "Forgive us our debts!" This is the way of empire. This is the economy of death.

This is the complete opposite of the Kin(g)dom of God.

*art, "Parable of the Unjust Steward," (2012), Andrei Mironov [from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives]

THE PARABLE OF THE LOST COIN

A few months after Nanay was laid to rest we went through her things. It was very hard. We choked up everytime we found the bills she kept. A fifty-peso (1 USD) bill here. A hundred-peso (2 USD) bill there. Inside a book. Tucked in a blouse pocket hanging in her closet. Folded in an old letter's envelope. Rolled up inside a bottle in the kitchen cupboard.

Like many Filipinos, our family lived from payday to payday and Nanay's "backup system," which so many use, helped keep us afloat.

This is why I love Sunday's Parable of the Lost Coin. The woman had ten coins. Each can buy a measure of wheat enough to feed one person. But only the rich could afford to eat wheat. The poor ate barley. Each of her coins can buy three measures of barley enough to feed three or four. Her ten coins were enough for her family to survive ten days on cheap bread.

And she misplaces one coin! So she searches for it like her family's life depended on it. Because it did. And when she finds the coin, she celebrates with friends and neighbors.

Of course there are people whose cupboards and refrigerators have provisions for weeks. Even months. Some have provisions that will last until The Second Coming!

Friends, many among us forget that for so many people who plea, "Give us today our daily bread," God's shalom is actually just one coin. Just enough money to buy the cheapest rice for one day. Just enough to survive for one more day!  

*art, "The Lost Drachma," James Tissot (1836-1902), from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives

THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP

Sunday's lection from Luke reminds those of us who call ourselves Christian that following Jesus of Nazareth has never been--and will never be--a picnic nor a walk in the park. The cost of discipleship is very high. The cross that Jesus talks about does not refer to the challenge of being married to your spouse, nor the responsibility of taking care of elderly relatives, nor the burden of pastoring a metropolitan church, nor to any of the other metaphorical "crosses" we have come up with.

The cost of discipleship is very high. It's completing the tower. It's winning the battle. We don't go build without finishing. We don't wage war in order to lose.

Many among us want to go to heaven, but are afraid to die. Many among us want to be resurrected, but are afraid to be crucified. Many among us want to see a new day, but are afraid of the night. We cannot have one without the other.

My friends, we cannot trully follow Jesus unless we are ready to carry our cross. When Jesus calls us, he bids us, "come and die."

*art, "The Cost of Discipleship," from inductivebiblestudy app, 2020.

"KNOW THY PLACE"

Sunday's lection resonates with our experiences around the dinner table (which, in many cases, is not really round). We know who sits where. In many homes we know who sits at the head and at the foot of the table. We are expected to know our place. And this seating arrangement applies in our churches as well. How many times have we experienced being told that these seats or those pews are for the exclusive use of this or that family? When I was younger I assumed that the name plates were in honor of the donors. I soon realized--after being told to move--that those name plates identified who had exclusive rights to those pews.

Years ago, I visited a church where I felt totally unwelcomed. I did not wear the required three-piece suit for men. I also had the wrong skin color.

Friends, let us never forget that the early church was known for its open table, its radical hospitality, and its proclamation of good news to the poor. The church is not a building. The church is not an exclusive club. The church, the one Jesus challenges to be light, salt, and seed, are people who love.

*art, "The Poor Invited to the Feast," JESUS MAFA, 1973 (from the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives)