Sunday, April 21, 2024

An unwelcomed authority (Easter 4)

THE CHURCH IN (com)MOTION
Church at Thessalonica
Acts 17:1-9


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In recent years, we’ve gotten all too familiar
with the ugly side of mob behavior.
It’s not very hard, actually, to get a mob of people worked up.
Especially when the mob consists of people
who already feel ignored, misunderstood, or disrespected.
They are like fuel, already heated up.
They only need a spark, to burst into flames.

All it takes for an inferno,
is a few charismatic and outspoken leaders
who know what the people are frustrated about,
who throw out some broad, sweeping allegations,
that contain a grain of truth,
but are purposely stretched way beyond the truth,
and who reframe it in language
that amplifies the frustration,
feeds the fears,
and puts power in the hands
of people who thought they had lost power.
Before you know it, there is a mob that is almost unstoppable.

It happens in person, in real time,
like we saw it unfold on January 6, three years ago,
and countless other times and places around the world today.
And it happens online . . . all day every day.
Online mobs do tremendous real damage to real people,
as anger and shame spill over into real-life
bullying, violence, and other criminal activity.
_____________________

Acts 17 almost feels like today’s news.
We recognize the mob psychology on full display in this story.

Paul and Silas, who do have a little reputation for being feisty,
were actually behaving pretty well in Thessalonica.
They were doing what Jewish rabbis do.
Arguing in the synagogues.
It’s hard for us to relate to this tradition.
We might even be uncomfortable with it.
But it was both routine, and expected, then and now,
when rabbis met in a synagogue, and scripture was read,
it would be followed by an open, and sometime vigorous, debate
about what that text meant,
and how it should be interpreted for their times.

Each synagogue probably had its personality.
I imagine some were pretty tame, most of the time.
Others likely had a reputation for hot debate and raised voices.
But that was simply how Jews went about working out their faith.
They were all, equally, and always, devoted to the Torah.
Commitment to Torah was never in doubt.
Paul and Silas included.

So here’s the situation.
Thessalonica was an important city of the Roman Empire,
situated on a major trade route.
Diaspora Jews had settled there and established synagogues,
but overall, it was a worldly Roman city.
And far, far from Jerusalem.

So Paul and Silas entered the Jewish community as traveling rabbis.
Happened all the time in a city like Thessalonica.
Nothing unusual.
Except the controversial interpretation they brought to the Torah,
pointing to Jesus of Nazareth as the promised Messiah.

The book of Acts spells out in some detail how things developed,
from polite scripture reading,
to vigorous rabbinical debate,
to heated conflict that involved both
Jews and Torah-believing Gentiles,
which spilled over into violence in the marketplace,
spurred on by town ruffians,
which brought in law enforcement.
_____________________

But you know, the more I thought about this sequence of events,
and these wild charges of treason and sedition
brought against two unarmed rabbis
who were just sitting around and
geeking out on matters of biblical interpretation . . .
the more I came to the conclusion
that the mob was not wrong about what they were saying.
Yes, the instigators purposely tried to over-state the allegations,
so as to over-heat the emotions of the people,
already on edge by an over-militarized empire.
But when they shouted out their wild complaints,
they—accidentally—spoke the truth.

They said, and I quote,
“These people . . . have been turning the world upside down!”
And,
“They are acting contrary to the decrees of the emperor,
saying that there is another king named Jesus.”

Remember, Rome was an all-encompassing Empire,
who ruled the whole Mediterranean Sea,
and virtually every region on its coast,
including the Jewish homeland of Judea.

Rome succeeded in this because of their iron-fisted rule of law,
their military that could overpower any potential threat,
and an Emperor who claimed to be God, and demanded worship.
 They had a solid grip on the people,
thanks to a social hierarchy that functioned exactly as designed.
It worked flawlessly from top to bottom, and bottom to top.
The higher in rank, the more power and influence you could have.
And the more you cooperated, and fulfilled your role in the system,
the more likely you might be rewarded,
by being allowed to move up one rung, and get more perks.

It didn’t pay to fight the system,
because the system would just push you down a rung or two,
or do away with you altogether.

So even Jewish religious authorities way off in Jerusalem,
typically played it safe.
They didn’t try to anger Rome.
Because doing so might cost them whatever freedom they now had.

And this impulse to bow to Rome was even stronger
in Asia Minor and the Greek peninsula,
a short hop away from the city of Rome itself.

So when Paul and Silas went on a mission to Thessalonica,
they had a hard sell, without a doubt.

They were arguing, in a synagogue almost in the shadow of Rome,
that Jesus of Nazareth, crucified on a Roman cross,
was actually the legitimate Messiah and King of the Jews,
and was now the Risen Lord of all creation,
who needed to be obeyed
before any Emperor, Governor, or High Priest.

They were taking the established hierarchy of the Empire,
which was accepted by Gentile and Jew alike,
and turning it end for end.
They were, in fact, turning the world upside down.
They were, in fact, contrary to the decrees of the Emperor,
saying that there is another king named Jesus.

That is their offense.
And it is a real and true offense against the powers that be.

That is the first thought that comes to my mind when I read this story,
and read the accusations.
The accusers were right!
They spoke the truth, unwittingly.

The second thought that comes to my mind
when I read this story, is a question.
What kind of offense are followers of Jesus causing these days?

I actually do see quite a lot of offensive behavior these days
coming from people who call themselves Christian.
But it doesn’t seem to be the same kind of offense
that Paul and Silas were causing.

I see Christians embracing the politics of
coercion and deceit and fear-mongering,
even turning to armed violence,
they seek control of local, state, and national government,
and other civic institutions
so they can wield power over others,
and protect their own interests.
They aren’t trying to turn the world upside down.
They don’t want to invert the hierarchy.
Christian Nationalists and those with that mind set
are like virtually all political partisans—left and right.
They want the same hierarchy,
but they want to be the ones sitting at the top,
calling the shots.

Paul and Silas were by no means trying to seize coercive power
from the hands of Rome.
They had no interest in taking over the palace or the temple.
But what they were preaching, was still a threat
to those in seats of power, of civil and religious power.

Paul and Silas advocated a different way to look at authority.
It was a moral authority based on
the life and teachings of Jesus,
who did not do away with Torah,
but gave a new authoritative interpretation of it,
grounded in love and justice.
They taught something revolutionary—
that when the edicts of Empire,
or the expectations of religion,
contradicted the morality of Torah, as embodied by Jesus,
then the only right thing to do was obey Jesus,
and respectfully refuse to bow
to the authority of either Emperor or religious hierarchy.

That iron-clad hierarchy that up to now
functioned like a well-oiled machine,
and benefitted those at the top,
would utterly collapse if people stopped believing in it.

So what hierarchies are the dominant ones today?
economic? social? political? racial? ideological?
Do we dare undermine them with the upside-down Gospel of Jesus,
that treasures the outcast, and marginalized,
that stands up for the poor and the immigrant,
that says no to state-sponsored war and oppression,
that prioritizes love and mercy over revenge and retribution?
If no one in power is taking offense at us today,
are we doing our job?
If no ruffians in the marketplace are stoking a mob against us
and dragging us to city hall,
because we are “trying to turn the world upside down” . . .
then maybe . . . that’s because
we aren’t trying to turn the world upside down,
and maybe we should start.
Turning it upside-down in the way of Jesus.

It all starts by trusting in God’s rule,
and putting every other rule and authority secondary to it.

Let’s share together, our confession of trust in God . . .
one In a world of many gods and emperors
and conflicting demands for loyalty,
 all God of the universe, we put our trust in you.
one In a world where we often lose faith in our leaders,
 all God of the universe, we put our trust in you.
one In a world where we mistrust our own neighbors,
 all God of the universe, we put our trust in you.
one In a world where hope is easily lost,
on Christ the solid rock we stand,
all other ground is sinking sand.

—Phil Kniss, April 21, 2024

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Sunday, April 7, 2024

Power and Vulnerability (Easter 2)

THE CHURCH IN (com)MOTION
You Shall Be My Witnesses
Mark 6:7-13; Acts 1:1-14


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If you are still basking in the glow of last Sunday’s
glorious Easter worship, good news!
Easter isn’t over.
Last Sunday was just Day One of the Easter season—
a season sometimes called “The Great Fifty Days.”
It starts on Easter morning, celebrating resurrection,
and ends 50 days later on Pentecost,
celebrating the Holy Spirit.
The word Pentecost, in case you weren’t aware,
literally means 50th.
It gets its name by counting days.

In worship,
now is the season for the church to remember and reflect
on the post-resurrection life of the disciples,
and on the difference resurrection made
for their life of following Jesus.
We don’t limit ourselves to that brief period.
We think broadly about the development of the early church.
Our lectionaries direct us to spend time
in the book of Acts,
and in some of the letters to the churches.

So as I looked over the texts for this season,
I noticed two things going on in the church.
They were experiencing rapid change.
And they were experiencing conflict.
They were a church in motion,
and therefore,
they were also a church in com-motion.
Often, the two go together—
rapid change and conflict.
So could it be? just maybe? the church of today
could find something here to identify with?
_____________________

In today’s readings from Acts 1 and Mark 6,
the commotion that awaits them is not yet obvious.
We’ll get into more of that in upcoming Sundays.

But these texts set the stage for the conflict yet to come.
They call for followers of Jesus to be in motion,
to be on the move,
to not live defensively,
but to embrace the power given to them,
and to go . . . go take risks.

So let’s look first at Acts 1.
One thing that strikes me,
is how daring and difficult the mission seems,
for a group of traumatized people.
These disciples are only days or weeks
after Jesus’ suffering and violent death,
and after the terror and turmoil that overcame them all,
that buried them in an avalanche of grief, and fear,
and panic, and confusion.

Yes, Jesus’ several unexpected appearances did also
instill in them a strange sense of hope,
but it was still so new and so full of mystery and unknowing.
It’s obvious from the post-Easter Gospel accounts
of Jesus’ appearing to the disciples,
that the resurrection was kind of a mixed bag.
The disciples were both joyful, and still full of dread and fear.

Then, in Acts 1, we have this scene of Jesus’ farewell,
and here’s what he tells them:
“Go back to Jerusalem and wait . . . but only for a bit.
Soon you will be given further reassurance, and then, then . . .
you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,
and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem,
in all Judea and Samaria,
and to the ends of the earth.”

From the get-go,
Jesus tells his followers to stay in motion,
to be a pilgrim people,
to look for the pain of the world,
and move toward it.

This is not a new idea coming from Jesus only after resurrection.
No, other times during his ministry years,
he almost literally pushed his disciples
into their zone of discomfort,
saying, “Go, do the work of the kingdom . . .”
“This is not about you or your comfort or personal preference.
There are broken people and broken systems out there in the world.
There are people getting pushed to the side and forgotten.
Go, get close to them.
Be in the healing business.
Be in the release from bondage business.
Be in the compassionate inclusion and restoration business.
Because all of that is God’s business.
So make it yours, too.
_____________________

Our other text, Mark 6, tells about
one of those times early in Jesus’ ministry that he told his disciples
to get on the move and do kingdom work.
Mark says he “gave them authority” and sent them out in pairs.
Go, free people, heal people, give good news to people.

But there’s a surprising twist.
There’s a curious and uncomfortable part 2 of the instructions.
I say curious, because it sure doesn’t sound like
the way Jesus people have typically worked.

Over the long history of the church,
we’ve done Part 1 quite well.
We’ve been sending people out, with power and authority,
for 2,000 years.
We’ve been sending them everywhere,
even into hard and uncomfortable and desperate places.

But this second part doesn’t sound very familiar.
And it doesn’t even sound like a great idea.

Verse 8, and I quote: “Jesus ordered them to
take nothing for their journey except a staff:
no bread, no bag, no money in their belts,
but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.
He said to them, ‘Wherever you enter a house,
stay there until you leave town.

In other words, dear church,
go into the world with authority and power,
but go with nothing.
Be vulnerable.
Be utterly dependent on
those . . . to whom . . . you . . . are . . . sent.

Would you go, under those terms?
All you have, as a resource,
is this intangible and invisible thing called “authority.”
And even that’s not something you can prove you have.
No signed certificate.
No keys to the city.
No special access code.
No one even knows you have “authority,”
until you can demonstrate it in some convincing way.

Instead, the posture you take,
as you present yourself to the world as a representative of Jesus,
is a posture of utter neediness. Vulnerability. Dependency.
And with one tunic, almost, nakedness.
Who does this?

Jesus expected his disciples to.
And I just have a hunch, he still does.

No, I’m not being a literalist, here.
It’s no sin to pack a suitcase when you travel.

But I think what we are asked to do,
is just as difficult,
as going somewhere with literally nothing on our backs.

We are asked to be vulnerable and exposed,
while we are stewards of the power of the Gospel.

You might know that the church, as an institution,
doesn’t have a very good track record with vulnerability.
We build protective structures around us.
We strike a pose that asserts power.
When we make mistakes, we usually dig in.
We protect our assets.
We have often packaged the Gospel into handy containers,
so we can go out to those who need it,
and distribute it like goodie bags,
from a position of power.
Because we have it and they don’t.

Jesus is preparing his followers to live out the Gospel,
in power, and with vulnerability.
Both . . . at the same time.

Hmm. No, I’m not saying the church,
or we as individual disciples,
must divest ourselves of everything we need to survive,
and start bumming off everyone else—
being a parasite,
instead of providing for ourselves.

Jesus’ decision in Mark 6 to send out his disciples
with nothing in their hands,
had a specific context and time and purpose,
that doesn’t exist for us right here, and right now.

But I do believe, within Jesus’ instructions was a universal principle,
just as relevant today, as it was then.
And that is this:
Know that the Gospel has power to transform this world,
and to transform lives.
Know that you can be a channel of that power to others.
But go toward others with a deep humility,
a profound awareness of your own need
and your own brokenness.
Go toward others knowing they have something of great value
that they can offer you.
And put yourself in a position to receive it.
Learn to not be self-sufficient.
Approach others with honest curiosity.
Desire to know them more deeply,
and be prepared to love and respect them—as they are—
not as you hope they will someday become.

When we can pair that kind of power with that kind of vulnerability,
I think we will have learned what Jesus was teaching his disciples.
And I think we’ll find that others will see that character in us,
and experience it as authenticity and authority.

I see far too many Christians today who live life on the defensive.
From the local level to the national level,
Christians are organizing to assert their power
in coercive ways.
Dare I say, even violent ways.
Christian Nationalism is a dangerous ideological movement,
being actively promoted by
many political and religious leaders,
to impose Christian authority on a society, on a state.
The Jesus I read about in the Gospels,
must shudder in anger and grief,
at what has become of his Gospel.

But it’s not just those more extreme examples
that we should be concerned about.
Defensive Christianity is a temptation for every congregation,
and every follower of Jesus.
I’m often guilty of it, and so are we all.
We do like having control.
We do like holding on to what’s ours, to our stuff,
to our power, to our position in the community.

If the Gospel has the power to transform us all—
and I believe it does—
then Jesus’ invitation is to let go of our controlling grasp,
and allow the Gospel do its healing and transforming work—
in us and in those around us—
and let its authority speak for itself.
We’re not doing the Gospel any favors
by striking a defensive posture.
The Gospel doesn’t need us to validate it, or prove its worth.
It can stand on its own feet.

We only need to be able to notice and say “no,”
whenever we see this defensiveness in ourselves,
or whenever we are expected to go along with
those who try to co-opt the Gospel,
for personal or institutional or political gain.

May God give us grace, and give us clarity.

Join me in our confession that we offer together.

one God who calls us to be on the move together,
all Forgive us when we stay put.
one God who calls us to exercise the 
compassionate power of the Gospel,
all Forgive us when we fail to recognize the gift we have to share.
one God who calls us to follow Jesus in humility and vulnerability,
all Forgive us when we build systems that protect and stockpile.

[silence]

one The God whose mission is to save, redeem, and heal the world,
freely forgives us for faltering in our witness, 
and invites us yet again to steward the Gospel 
with confidence and in deep humility.

—Phil Kniss, April 7, 2024

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