“For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible”. When we read these words in the context of the rich young man story we really see just how futile our efforts for salvation are. Jesus goes down the list of commandments with him and he says he’s kept them all: “I have kept all these”. He says “I”. Then the disciples chime in with, “then who can be saved?” Time and time again people are coming to Jesus asking what they must do to be saved. Time and time again Jesus responds by stating in some way that you can’t do anything to be saved. Salvation is the work of God, not our own.

I have yet to encounter a Christian church or denomination that denies the saving grace of God, yet at some point, we all seem to call out some kind of action, rite, or sacrament that we need to do “to be saved” or to be a “true Christian”. Whether it’s infant baptism, believer’s baptism, a confession of faith, some version of the “sinner’s prayer”, loving my neighbor, feeding the hungry, doing good to the “least of these”, or who knows what else, we all seem to arrive at something we need to do. I am in no way advocating passivity or complacency, but at what point do we really heed these words “for mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible” and stop trying to “be saved” and simply rest in the fact that God will take care of this. This is God’s job. Let God be God (a central theme in a parable all this is leading towards).

This is why Jesus’ seemingly smarmy response to the rich young man is “Why do you ask me what is good? There is only one who is good?” Meaning, “there is no good thing you can do. Only God can do the good thing.” Our need to quantify and control salvation does not let God be God, but furthermore, it keeps us from being who we are supposed to be and doing the thing God expects of us: love one another.  When we quantify and control what one must do to be saved, we enter into judgement, not love. That does not mean we don’t hold people accountable to their actions, but the accountability should come out of a desire to keep someone from hurting one’s self, another, or the world. Accountability should not come out of salvation issues.

So let’s forget about salvation. Yes, I said it. Let’s forget about salvation. It’s not up to us. It’s impossible for us, Jesus says. So let’s let God do it. And let’s simply rest in the goodness of God, and seek to see people and the world as God sees them: Precious. Beloved. Worthwhile. Beautiful. Loved by God.

This is a big passage in our world right now. Or maybe I should say my world, that is United Methodist world. So in today’s episode, I need to do some work to talk about this passage in the context of what’s happening in the UMC. The battle in our denomination around LGBTQ+ inclusion has been going on for 47 years, and the way that battle is fought is by launching Bible passages back and forth like hand grenades. Over the course of the debate, one of the big arguments for inclusion is Jesus’ silence on what we call today LGBTQ+ identities. So the conservatives went and found the place where Jesus addresses this to try to disprove the “silence” theory. Today’s post is what I believe to be a necessary and not-so-diplomatic corrective to just how abjectly disingenuous the conservative application of this passage is. 

In verse 4, Jesus says, “Have you not read that the one who made them at the beginning ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh?'” Out of context, you can see how one might come to the conclusion that Jesus seems to be defining marriage as between “one man, one woman”. But this is wrong. Just wrong.

I’m going to be very pointed here, because, frankly, I’m fatigued of playing nice on this one. It is the conservative wing of Christianity- and specifically, “traditionalist” faction of the UMC- that prides itself on Biblical interpretation, following the Bible, and being the people who let the Bible dictate polity, doctrine, and policy more than any others. In fact, their biggest argument in our 47-year fight on these matters has been that we progressives are creating a “departure from Biblical ethics.” We are “abandoning the Bible”. Yet their interpretation of this verse- their signature verse on these matters these days- is utterly disingenuous. The exegesis is dishonest, the theology is wafer thin, and the hermeneutic is rooted in 20th and 21st-century straight white male colonialism. The very people who claim to have the corner on Biblical interpretation don’t even use the tools at which they claim to be experts.

So let’s break this down…

First of all, context. My how they love to ignore context, the most basic component of Biblical interpretation. So let’s start at the beginning.

This passage is not a teaching on marriage. These words come out of the religious leaders trying to trap Jesus: “Some Pharisees came to him, and to test him they asked…” (19:3). The premise for this whole conversation is a dishonest and disingenuous one to begin with. That matters. It says something about what the passage is really about. It’s not about what Jesus is teaching as much as it is about the way the religious institution is trying to discredit him. That’s the narrative.

But what is it that the Pharisees ask? They ask, “Jesus, is same-sex marriage Biblical?” NO! They ask, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause?” So first, if Jesus is teaching anything, he is explicitly teaching about divorce and is (at best) implicitly teaching about same-sex marriage. The traditionalist faction hinges their argument on what Jesus may (or may not) be implicitly teaching while abjectly ignoring what he is explicitly saying, and they do this by removing the context. It is dishonest, shameful, and manipulative interpretation. If you are going to marginalize LGBTQ+ inclusion in the church because of this verse, then you must do the same with anyone who has been divorced, and that’s a road I don’t think any of us want to go down. It is a harmful road.

The conversation continues between Jesus and the Pharisees, as they debate the minutia of the law on matters concerning divorce. Nowhere does the conversation ever go toward a generalized “definition of marriage”. Jesus does not “define marriage” here. He argues about the 1st Century Jewish law in regards to divorce. And may I remind us all that even if he is talking about marriage, he is not talking about marriage as we understand it in 21st-century America. He is talking about marriage in a context where women had no rights and no power.

Marriage in this context is about an economic exchange, and Jesus’ restrictions on divorce here are not about excluding and shaming people who get divorced, but they are to protect women who had no voice, rights, or power and could be dismissed and left with no source of income or well being because of misogynist laws.  If Jesus’ citation of the “one flesh” words from Genesis are teaching anything it is calling out the way in which men in that culture merely used and abused their wives. He’s saying “Look, if you’re interested in what God wants in marriage, how about you treat women with a little more respect, dignity, and care and let them speak into your lives more, and stop treating them as your property.”

Not only is it abjectly wrong to apply this passage to 21st-century Western same-sex relationships and marriage, but it is abjectly wrong to apply it to 21st-century Western marriage at all! The traditionalist faction of the UMC (e.g.: the Wesleyan Covenant Association folks) is violating one of the most “Wesleyan” elements of our tradition. They are throwing the quadrilateral out the window.

Putting all of this in context, what’s really going on here is Jesus is addressing the hard-heartedness of the Pharisees. They are coming to him to “test” him with questions about the law. Why? Because they are threatened by the work Jesus has been doing to reimagine the law and the way it is lived out in community and in so doing “fulfill the law and the prophets” (Matthew 5:17). They are threatened by the way this reimagining bends and even breaks down the man-made boundaries of the Kingdom of Heaven, and so the religious establishment is doing whatever they can to discredit him to stop this breaking of the kingdom wide open so that they can continue to enjoy their power and control. So too is it with the traditionalist faction of the United Methodist Church.

With that in mind, it makes perfect sense to me that this faction of the UMC would use this passage as their signature passage to exclude. It’s exactly what the subjects of the passage are doing.

Well, it appears that forgiveness is a big deal to Jesus. A really big deal. Both here and in the sermon on the mount he essentially tells us that the degree to which we forgive others is equal to the degree to which we are forgiven. Jesus is deeply concerned with the way we relate to one another. It’s almost as though our relationship with one another is not only more important than our relationship with God but is so because it informs our relationship with God. And why not? Are we not all creations of God? Is it possible (and it is terrifying if it is) that our relationship with God can only be as strong and healthy as our relationships to one another is?

As a father, I can tell you that when my kids don’t get along, when they “sin against” each other, and treat each other unjustly, it affects my relationship with them. The wedge that exists between them extends to a wedge between them and me. I don’t know that it should do this, but it does. And likewise, when they do get along, it endears me to them and nothing blesses me more. Doesn’t it make sense that the same might be true of God Almighty? We are created in God’s image, that is, made to reflect God. The ugliness of our relational discord with one another is not an apt reflection of this God whom we claim to serve, strive to be like and indeed to whom we belong.

Do you want to get close to God? Do you want the Spirit of God to completely enfold you and begin working in you in ways you can’t even fathom? Do you want revival? Real revival? Maybe the path to vibrant spiritual connection is healthy relational connection. Maybe it’s simply to start loving each well, working toward reconciliation, and forgiving one another. End of story.

I believe these to be among the most abused words of Jesus in all of the Gospels. In the infancy of my faith, I was led to believe that this was the passage that liberated us to not only to judge but to confront sin in others. So if someone was sleeping with their girlfriend or getting drunk at a frat party you carted out these words, confronted them, and followed it all the way to the point where, in the name of Jesus, you all but excommunicated the person, and you certainly shamed them. A faith defined by grace became one of abject shame.

It wasn’t until later in life that I realized that this passage isn’t about sin but about relational conflict and, more so, reconciliation. Jesus says, “if another member of the church sins against you…” This is about when you feel wronged, when some one has said or done something toward you that hurt you and in so doing put a rift in the relationship; it is about when some one sins against you, not about someone else’s sin in general. This is why Peter asks about forgiveness towards the end of it. If someone is merely sinning, but not against me, I have no reason to forgive them. This is about the reconciliation of relationships, not confrontation of sin.

When we feel wronged, Jesus calls us to go the person we believe initiated the wrong. And, for the sake of reconciliation, you continue to bring other trusted members into the conversation, if need be. The goal is reconciliation and forgiveness, not shame and being right. That’s an important distinction. If your motive is to prove how right you are, don’t do this. If your motive is a reconciled relationship, then, yes, enter in.

And it is when we gather for the sake of reconciliation that Jesus is right there with us. In this is another odd, albeit not nearly as harmful, twist of this passage. How many times have you been to some kind of Christian gathering where the attendance was obviously, and some times painfully, poor? This happened at my church last Sunday when I was preaching this passage (darn Saturday night snow storms!). When it becomes evident that this is all that’s showing up, someone, usually the leader says, “well, where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them”. It’s meant to move us passed the awkwardness of the subpar attendance and move on with the plan. It’s a nice sentiment, and not necessarily untrue, but the context in which Jesus says this is (let’s not forget) reconciliation. Let’s not let the true and intended power of this statement get reduced down to making church leaders feel better about poor attendance.

This is a passage that demands reconciliation in relationships. It demands that we work toward it, when it is safe to do so. There are times when it is not safe for us to seek reconciliation. This is another, and more serious, perversion of this passage: It has been used to keep people in abusive relationships, and it is in no way intended to do that.

But in our normal, everyday relationships with one another in the church, this passage demands that we be people of reconciliation. What Jesus is saying here is that when those in conflict gather in his name, which means for the purpose of shalom or wholeness, Jesus is right there. This is where Jesus wants to be. The spirit of Christ naturally births out of reconciliation.

I wonder if nothing pleases God more, than when broken things become whole; than when dead and dying things come to life. But to get there, we need to put aside our need to be right and move toward a desire for restoration and reconciliation. Being reconciled is more important than being right. And when we do that, God shows up. What an amazing promise. May we never again use this passage to pass judgement and condemnation on another. This is a beautiful passage that has, unfortunately, been made uglier than the sin it often mistakenly confronts.

The sheep and shepherd metaphor is often used by Jesus. There is a lot to this metaphor (literally books have been written about it), and it’s not all so pleasant and “pastoral” (pun intended).

We tend to, and sometimes rightly so, apply it broadly. We, humans, are the sheep. Jesus is the shepherd. But there are some big differences between humans and sheep. Is it possible that when Jesus uses this metaphor that he’s not necessarily talking about humanity in such broad sweeping and generalized terms?

When I was in college I took a semester to study literature and theater London. One of the opportunities the program gave us was a weekend of horseback riding (or “pony trekking” as they called it) in Wales. So we took this weekend away into the glorious rolling hills of Wales to stay at a cabin and see the Welsh countryside on horseback. It was incredible.

On our first night there I went for a walk alone. I came over a hill and found myself in the middle of a rather large herd of sheep. I sat down just to witness it. I grew up in the city and, well, this sort of thing doesn’t happen in the city. Suddenly one of the sheep realized I was there and started to bah, almost as though to alert the others of the stranger danger that was me. It was somewhat comical since I had been sitting at an arm’s length from them for several minutes before they seemed to notice me at all.

Then other sheep started to bah, and pretty soon it was a chorus (and I use the word “chorus” pretty loosely here) of paralyzed bahs. All they could do was bah, but nothing else. They looked at each other waiting for someone to lead, but all any of them could do was bah. Had I been a real, rather than perceived, danger, these sheep would have been in deep trouble.

I think I learned something that day. What I can see from my limited experience is that sheep are vulnerable creatures. They don’t have much for a defense, they don’t know what to do when trouble comes, and they can get lost easily. They need a shepherd. As followers of Jesus, I believe we are to have a keen eye and strong defense for the vulnerable in our world. They need protection, for the systems of the world are too much designed to keep them vulnerable. We must go and find these defenseless creatures, who have no vote, no voice, and no shepherd. And we must then lay aside our own privilege so that they can rise up to claim their voice and their power… their “bah”, if you will. It may be more powerful than I think.

Who is the greatest? There it is. That dumb question that the disciples ask and that in other ways, shapes, and forms we ask all the time. Who’s the best at being your follower, Jesus? [cue Jesus face-palm]. Jesus answers this question by calling us to be like children, which is hard enough for us now, but in those days would have been a scandalous idea. Then he goes further to say that not only do we need to become like children but if we cause children to stumble, “it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:6).

About ten years ago, when my kids were far less angsty, I wrote the following piece that was a way in which I think we are called to be like children. Though there is a whole heap more that could be said about this childlike faith and not being a stumbling block, I’ll let this stand for today’s post.

“Playing Together”

July 4th, 2009: There are a lot of things that bring me joy in being a parent, but there is one thing in particular that truly fills me up- when my kids genuinely enjoy being together. Have you ever had those moments when your kids dive into a game, idea or activity and they really do it together? Every now and then my kids dream up some fantasy land and they dive in. And I just sit back and watch. they don’t need me for anything and even almost forget I’m there. These are some of my favorite moments as a parent. I could sit and watch them all day. My heart swells as I see them genuinely enjoy one another. Conversely, nothing frustrates me more than when my children don’ t play together well. I have to constantly intervene where I shouldn’t have to. Sometimes I have to punish them, which often feels like punishment for me too. It saddens me, hurts me, even causes me to wonder where I went wrong.

Is God like this? I imagine so. I imagine it hurts God deeply when we hurt one another deeply. I wonder if when Paul said to the church in Ephesus, “make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” if he was saying what I often to say to my kids: “You need to start getting along and playing well together because you’re driving me nuts!” And conversely when we do play well together, when we share our lives; when we join together for a meal and laugh into the night together; when we ground ourselves in the unity of the Spirit and laugh; when we fully grab onto and enjoy this beautiful life together; I wonder if God sits up on that heavenly throne in that mystical triune reality, smiles and says, “Behold, my children, in whom I am well pleased”.

When you see your kids playing well together and that little smile of joy and peace runs across your face, remember that what you are witnessing is exactly what God desires of us, the Church. God is immeasurably blessed when we play together well.

Why is Jesus suddenly concerned about offending someone (17:27)? He has not hesitated to offend the Pharisees, he referred to his disciples as having little faith, and even in 17:17, a “perverse generation”, but all of sudden, with people with whom he has the least allegiance, the temple tax collectors, he says, “…so that we do not give offense to them”. Sometimes I wonder if Jesus’ whole ministry is centered around holding opposing viewpoints in balance. It’s as though he’s telling us not to pull too hard in any one direction. So the minute someone opens the door to not pay the Temple Tax, he gives reason to do it. He is constantly challenging any system in which anyone seems to feel comfortable. There is something to be said about obeying the laws of the land, but I believe there has to be more to it than that. The Jesus I’m seeing through 17 chapters of Matthew is not likely to do something merely to “obey the laws of the land”. Jesus is far too intentional for that to be it. What I see here more so than that, is a Jesus once again calling us out of our comfort zones. He’s showing us that there is no singular way to do this or singular perspective in which to do this life. Paraphrasing some of Jesus’ words, he is constantly pushing us to do the opposite of what comes easy or naturally:

“Yes, you can avoid paying the temple tax, but how about you do it anyway?

”…But I say love your enemies and pray them.”

“I’ve come to bring a sword, not peace”

“You are the light of the world, but also a faithless and perverse generation”.

“Go first to the lost sheep of Israel, but let’s heal this Canaanite woman too”.

On and on it goes. I don’t see these as contradictions. I see these as opposite forces, pulling with all their might, creating an impenetrable tension which keeps us from falling and keeps us pointed upward. About 10 years ago a friend of mine preached a sermon which changed my life. It started out, “righteousness is like a radio tower”. From there he explained how radio towers are these massively tall structures that only stand tall because of the immense amount of opposing tension from three separate cords pulling on it. He explained that this is how righteousness works. Right-living comes when we let opposing forces pull on us equally. When we let one pull harder than the others, we fall. But if we let opposing forces pull equally, we actually stand at rest.

The beautiful paradox in it is that a properly fitted radio tower actually stands in a place of rest only by allowing immense amounts of tension to pull on it. So too are we to allow opposing ideas pull on us. This thing called “truth” is bigger than any one of us. It is beyond us individually. But maybe, just maybe, it was designed that way. It was designed such that each person is given something to bring to the table. Don’t run from ideas that make you uncomfortable. Let them pull on you a little bit, just enough to keep you balanced. This I know is not a popular sentiment among many who are firm in their convictions. It sounds wishy-washy and soft. But might I submit that it’s actually the most difficult, sometimes painful, but also freeing way to live. Living in the tension requires serious discipline and relentless trust, but may just be the most liberating place to live.

The Transfiguration is another of one of those stories in the Bible that I simply find strange, and only floods me with questions. Jesus takes three disciples with him up a mountain and all of a sudden his clothes are dazzling white, and he’s with Moses and Elijah. First of all, did Jesus know what was going to happen as he led them up? Or did he merely know that he was going to have some kind of encounter with God since that’s what happens on mountains? The text tells us that Moses and Elijah were talking with Jesus. What could they have possibly been talking about? Were introductions made? Or was it a reunion?

Every time I read this story the image of a pitcher, catcher, and manager in a conversation on the pitcher’s mound comes to mind. What is being said in those meetings is one of life’s great mysteries! Are they talking about intricate strategies for the next move? What to get Jimmy and Milly for their wedding present? Whether to go for Tai food or Italian after the game? We outsiders may never know.

Regardless of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah are talking about, after years of studying and preaching this story, I still wonder, “what is the purpose of this story?” Does Jesus need reassurance for what he is about to go through? Does Jesus feel the need to give Peter, James and John some reassurance about who he is, that he is indeed, “The Messiah, the Son of the Living God” (MT 16:16)?

It’s a strange story. And once again, I feel bad for Peter. He’s often painted as a bit of a buffoon here for recommending the building of three dwellings, but isn’t it only human to feel a need to respond to such an awesome and strange happening? He simply doesn’t know what to do. His heart feels the need to do something right and good, but all his brain can come up with is three dwellings. I’ve been there. I get that. I understand the need to respond, but not know how to do so.

Perhaps the story’s purpose is to key Peter, James, and John into the bigger picture. By the end of the story, some lights seem to have gone on as they discuss Elijah and John the Baptist. So maybe that’s what it’s about. Who really knows? My best guess? I think it has to do with Jesus dazzling white clothes. The next time the word translated as “dazzling white” (λευκός, leukos) shows up in Matthew’s Gospel is in describing the appearance of the angel at Jesus’ tomb at the resurrection. Perhaps this is a story that makes no sense here but becomes clear in chapter 28. Perhaps it is a foreshadowing to the resurrection, to new life. Just prior to this Jesus predicts his death. Here he foreshadows his resurrection. Resurrection is always looming, friends.

In my years in working in churches, I have come to see that we 21st Century Americans don’t like this verse. We don’t want it preached and we certainly don’t want it expected. And that’s understandable. It’s hard stuff. But I think it’s the essence of Jesus’ call on the Church, that is the collective body of Christ. He calls us to die. So much of church these days is about survival. What and who will save our institution?

I have long held that if the church wants to survive, it must die. It must stop striving to fill itself up and start emptying itself out. Stop trying to just get people in the door and get people out the door. Stop trying to increase attendance and giving (or as I heard one pastor once call it “nickels and noses”) in order to build ourselves up, and start pouring our talents, gifts, and resources out into the community around us. It sounds like death. How could we do that? We’re barely making our budget as it is? As long as we worry about that budget, that “bread” that Jesus warns us to stop worrying about in 16:8-10, we will die. But take what we have and die to it, that is, give it away to the world around us, and watch how we will come alive.

This, I know, is perhaps unrealistic idealism, but, well, so too is radical grace, is it not? And isn’t this how the Church grew in its infancy. It may be too simplistic and idealistic, but this, I believe is how it will grow today as well. And by grow I don’t mean auditoriums and sanctuaries filled with bodies for an hour a week. By grow I mean the Church will truly begin to, and indeed continue to, transform the world. It will, with and by the power of the Spirit of God, restore shalom- wholeness- to the world. But, like its head, that is the Christ, this work will not come without struggle, pain, and suffering. But also, like Christ, it is in that struggle, pain, and suffering that resurrected life is birthed. It is in dying that The Church will live.

There may be only one word to describe Jesus at this point in the story: “Ornery”. He gets into it with the Pharisees again and then gets a little smarmy with his disciples. The work of dismantling systems of oppression and breaking down borders and boundaries is hard, taxing work.

In verse 13 we then enter into one of the most significant interchanges between Jesus and his disciples in the synoptic Gospels: That is, the question, “who do you say that I am?” This question is always a good one for all of us. Who do we say that he is? Who is Jesus? What does he mean to us? Who is he for the world? It has been used as a litmus test to see whether we really believe or not, and maybe that’s what Jesus is doing is here, but maybe it comes to us on the day after Lent starts as a guiding question of reflection for us throughout the season: Who do I say that Jesus is?

Simon Peter answers the question, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus affirms his answer by saying, “Blessed are you… And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Jesus answers our answer about who he is by telling us who we are. The Greek for Peter is Πέτρος (“petros”) and literally means rock. And indeed Peter will become the leader of the community after Jesus ascends.

But one of the biggest questions people ask about this passage is “why does Jesus tell them not to say anything about who is?” After all, isn’t that exactly what we’re supposed to do? Tell the world about Jesus and who he is? Well, two things about that: One, Jesus doesn’t command us to do so until he’s gone, until his work and instruction on this earth are done. He’s still got work to do. Let’s let him finish before we start blabbering about who he is!

But more so, I wonder about this: Jesus isn’t concerned with titles. He asks them here to see if his disciples are getting it, but I wonder if he’s less concerned about the title “Messiah” than he is the work of “Messiah”. Titles are pretty meaningless if they’re not backed up by the work they imply. I am a “pastor”, but if I don’t do the work well of actually being a pastor, then the title really is (and should be) meaningless. Titles can be important because they can give us some credibility in situations where our credibility or authority is questioned, but without the work to back them up, they are meaningless. Jesus wants the title “Messiah” to work in concert with how he lives his life. So he’s (maybe) essentially saying, “let my life tell people who I am.”

May it be so with all of us. In other words, may the know we are the title “Christian” by the life we live. May they know we are Christians by our love.

Have a blessed Lent, Beloved.