The lectionary passage from I Peter, chapter 1, starts at v. 17 and goes through v. 23. The passage itself, in context, should start at v. 13 and read through v. 25. The passage is about committing to holiness, but we must be careful to understand what that means. The author commands us not to return to our old ways, when we were, as Paul wrote, slaves to the elemental spirits. We must be holy, as God is holy.
But what does it mean to be holy, in the context of life in the Spirit? First of all, it means that we rely totally on God's grace (v. 13 - this is why it's important to read the whole passage, or we'd miss this subtle but important element).
This holiness is also powered by our faith in a risen Christ, who was from the beginning of time God's instrument for bringing salvation to creation. This holiness also takes seriously the holiness of God, as well as the supreme price God paid, in the death of the Son, for our salvation. So it is not enough to focus on the grace of God; we must also fear God, which I believe means a healthy reverence for God's generous love and a commitment to respond to that grace with sanctified living.
Grace without holiness is a cheap grace. Holiness without grace rapidly descends into pious self-righteousness.
It is also important to remember that our holiness is not the product of our own striving; instead, it is the result of our complete surrender to the grace of God. And that holiness is expressed most fully in how we love one another, as God has loved us.
Friday, April 24, 2020
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
April 26 Lectionary passage from Acts
Acts 2:14a, 36-41
This passage contains the end of Peter's Pentecost sermon and the congregation's reaction.
I don't like replacing the Old Testament Lesson with a passage from the New Testament, as happens during Eastertide in this year's lectionary cycle. I don't like lifting verses out of a longer passage, as this reading does. I don't like a Pentecost passage being read at Eastertide. And I don't like hellfire and damnation sermons.
I was schooled in preaching by three of the best: Tom Long, Wade Huie and Will Ormond. All three of them would agree on this: a sermon should be about the Good News of the Gospel. Preaching that manipulates its hearers with anger, guilt, anxiety and the threat of hell is not Good News preaching.
Peter would have flunked their homiletics courses. This, the first Christian evangelistic sermon ever preached, was a "come-to-Jesus" sermon in the most literal sense. The first verse of this reading proves as much: "God made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified" (emphasis mine). If that doesn't bring a sinner to his or her knees . . .
Remember the context: Peter is preaching to Jews from all over the Roman Empire, as well as the hometown crew. His tactic is to lay a guilt trip on the Jews gathered at the Temple for the crime of crucifying the One whom God has made Lord (worthy of praise and adoration) and Christ (Messiah - the Anointed One whom all Jews were awaiting). NOTE: none of these Jewish pilgrims actually crucified Jesus. The Roman government carried out the execution.
Apparently, and contrary to my own professors' opinions, the technique works well. Luke claims that 3,000 persons joined the new cult that day.
The focus of this passage is the response of those who received Peter's hellfire and brimstone sermon: "cut to the heart," they asked, "What should we do?" Peter answers, "Repent and be baptized."
The converts receive baptism for the forgiveness of sins - a ritual with which pious Jews would be familiar - but with a new twist or two: the baptism is also in the name of Jesus Christ, AND the mechanism for receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit (something the disciples only that morning had received themselves).
What, exactly are they repenting from? Knowing the tradition of baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and looking forward to Peter's last quote in this passage ("save yourselves from this wicked generation"), it is the calling to turn away from sin and turn to God - to turn away from a lifestyle of self-serving behavior to a life of serving God. This would not differ greatly from the baptismal call of the Essene sect, for instance, with the exception that repentance now also meant confessing loyalty to Jesus, raised from the dead, made Lord and Christ by God.
After giving Peter grief for disappointing my preaching professors with his Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" - style sermon, I must admit that there is a passage of Good News here, when Peter says, "for the promise is to you, and to your children, and to those who are far off."
Acts is about the expansion of the Jesus movement, which happens by the Holy Spirit blowing the walls off of religion and exploding our boundaries. I'm sure that Peter understood himself to mean only Jews of the Diaspora when he uttered this promise, but we understand that the Holy Spirit meant EVERYONE whom the Lord calls to relationship with the Divine.
Today, we still try to erect walls around our religion. The Church is suffering through such turmoil now when we forget our calling to love, and misconstrue our calling as one of judging right from wrong. But that privilege belongs solely to God. And we know that by the way Jesus lived and by what he taught ("first take the log out of your own eye . . ."). In response to our building walls, the Holy Spirit comes along and blows them down: Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. Peter's vision of the animals on the sheet descended from heaven. Paul's conversion and call to preach to the Gentiles.
Who are those who are "far off" today? Who are we leaving outside the doors of our worship spaces? I remember when I was a kid in Tuscaloosa, I heard the story about how my church locked the doors of our sanctuary rather than allow African American college students join us in worship. Ironically, the college those students attended was founded by the pastor of that same church, the Rev. Charles Stillman for whom the college is named.
By the time we joined First Presbyterian Church, the Holy Spirit had knocked down some walls, and the Stillman College Choir was invited annually to lead worship on Stillman Sunday. Unfortunately, the church was still virtually lily white most other Sundays. But it was a start.
That was the 1950s and 1960s. Who are we locking out of the church today? Which sins are we selecting for attention and which are we overlooking? Let me be clear: the promise and the call to repentance are inseparable. One without the other is either cheap grace or hypocritical judgementalism. But the journey to repentance begins inside the doors, and the doors have to be open and unlocked.
This passage contains the end of Peter's Pentecost sermon and the congregation's reaction.
I don't like replacing the Old Testament Lesson with a passage from the New Testament, as happens during Eastertide in this year's lectionary cycle. I don't like lifting verses out of a longer passage, as this reading does. I don't like a Pentecost passage being read at Eastertide. And I don't like hellfire and damnation sermons.
I was schooled in preaching by three of the best: Tom Long, Wade Huie and Will Ormond. All three of them would agree on this: a sermon should be about the Good News of the Gospel. Preaching that manipulates its hearers with anger, guilt, anxiety and the threat of hell is not Good News preaching.
Peter would have flunked their homiletics courses. This, the first Christian evangelistic sermon ever preached, was a "come-to-Jesus" sermon in the most literal sense. The first verse of this reading proves as much: "God made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified" (emphasis mine). If that doesn't bring a sinner to his or her knees . . .
Remember the context: Peter is preaching to Jews from all over the Roman Empire, as well as the hometown crew. His tactic is to lay a guilt trip on the Jews gathered at the Temple for the crime of crucifying the One whom God has made Lord (worthy of praise and adoration) and Christ (Messiah - the Anointed One whom all Jews were awaiting). NOTE: none of these Jewish pilgrims actually crucified Jesus. The Roman government carried out the execution.
Apparently, and contrary to my own professors' opinions, the technique works well. Luke claims that 3,000 persons joined the new cult that day.
The focus of this passage is the response of those who received Peter's hellfire and brimstone sermon: "cut to the heart," they asked, "What should we do?" Peter answers, "Repent and be baptized."
The converts receive baptism for the forgiveness of sins - a ritual with which pious Jews would be familiar - but with a new twist or two: the baptism is also in the name of Jesus Christ, AND the mechanism for receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit (something the disciples only that morning had received themselves).
What, exactly are they repenting from? Knowing the tradition of baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and looking forward to Peter's last quote in this passage ("save yourselves from this wicked generation"), it is the calling to turn away from sin and turn to God - to turn away from a lifestyle of self-serving behavior to a life of serving God. This would not differ greatly from the baptismal call of the Essene sect, for instance, with the exception that repentance now also meant confessing loyalty to Jesus, raised from the dead, made Lord and Christ by God.
After giving Peter grief for disappointing my preaching professors with his Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" - style sermon, I must admit that there is a passage of Good News here, when Peter says, "for the promise is to you, and to your children, and to those who are far off."
Acts is about the expansion of the Jesus movement, which happens by the Holy Spirit blowing the walls off of religion and exploding our boundaries. I'm sure that Peter understood himself to mean only Jews of the Diaspora when he uttered this promise, but we understand that the Holy Spirit meant EVERYONE whom the Lord calls to relationship with the Divine.
Today, we still try to erect walls around our religion. The Church is suffering through such turmoil now when we forget our calling to love, and misconstrue our calling as one of judging right from wrong. But that privilege belongs solely to God. And we know that by the way Jesus lived and by what he taught ("first take the log out of your own eye . . ."). In response to our building walls, the Holy Spirit comes along and blows them down: Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. Peter's vision of the animals on the sheet descended from heaven. Paul's conversion and call to preach to the Gentiles.
Who are those who are "far off" today? Who are we leaving outside the doors of our worship spaces? I remember when I was a kid in Tuscaloosa, I heard the story about how my church locked the doors of our sanctuary rather than allow African American college students join us in worship. Ironically, the college those students attended was founded by the pastor of that same church, the Rev. Charles Stillman for whom the college is named.
By the time we joined First Presbyterian Church, the Holy Spirit had knocked down some walls, and the Stillman College Choir was invited annually to lead worship on Stillman Sunday. Unfortunately, the church was still virtually lily white most other Sundays. But it was a start.
That was the 1950s and 1960s. Who are we locking out of the church today? Which sins are we selecting for attention and which are we overlooking? Let me be clear: the promise and the call to repentance are inseparable. One without the other is either cheap grace or hypocritical judgementalism. But the journey to repentance begins inside the doors, and the doors have to be open and unlocked.
Monday, April 20, 2020
April 26 Lectionary Gospel: Luke 24:13-35
The Road to Emmaus story is my favorite post-resurrection account. First of all, what is Jesus doing outside of Jerusalem? Doesn't he have appearances to make in town? And how does Jesus spend the whole afternoon and evening with these two disciples and still find time to appear to Simon Peter before these two can hoof it back to Jerusalem?
Let's look at Cleopas and his unnamed friend. They are conditioned by their history and culture to see what they see, as well as to overlook what they cannot see. They are dejected and depressed because the man they considered a great prophet, and possibly even the promised Messiah, has been executed. They could not comprehend of a different kind of Messiah than the one they've been taught to look for. They are looking for another King David, or at least a political insurrectionist in line with the Maccabean brothers.
These two are also conditioned by their paternalistic culture to discount the women's account of the empty tomb. Not until men of their company verify that the tomb is empty do they believe it. And since these men did not actually see Jesus himself, they were skeptical of the claim that he was alive. The disciples are no different. It is not until Peter recounts his interaction with Jesus that they accept the truth of Jesus' resurrection.
The two disciples, their faith thus limited, start down the road despondent and dejected.
Now, let's look at Jesus. He has a wicked sense of humor. He approaches these two sad men, knowing full well why they are depressed. Jesus is unrecognizable to them (why? did he make himself unrecognizable? Were the two walkers unable to recognize Jesus because they couldn't comprehend a risen Jesus? Is it just a literary technique?). This Stranger pretends to be clueless about current events, and even eggs the two on as they relate the sad current events. When they finish their story, the Lord responds with not a very polite retort: "You foolish and slow-witted guys. Can't you understand the Scriptures? That the Messiah had to suffer in order to come into his glory?"
Of course these two didn't comprehend the Scriptures; because, they were conditioned to understand them otherwise. Jesus then reveals to them the meaning of all scripture during the two-hour walk. When the three of them reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends like he's continuing down the road. Knowing that continuing to travel in the wilderness in the dark was very dangerous, they plead with Jesus to stay the night with them.
Jesus' last trick: when it's time for dinner, Jesus - the guest - usurps the role of host, blesses the bread and breaks it and gives it to the two men. In that act, Jesus reveals his identity, and then disappears! Do you see what I mean by a wicked sense of humor?
This is a rich story, which can be perceived from many different perspectives. The application that appeals most to me is to understand the road to Emmaus as a worship experience of the Risen Christ. The two disciples enter the journey despondent, their faith broken, their hope lost. On the road, they hear the sermon: the Law and the Prophets interpreted and the Good News of Jesus Christ proclaimed. The Spirit is moving in this exposition of Scripture -- "did not our hearts burn within us?"
The worshippers reach their home and gather at the table. Where two or three are gathered, there is the Lord also, made known to the worshippers in the breaking of the bread. Nourished with the Word preached and the Word consumed in the Eucharist, the two worshippers are restored. Their hearts warmed, their faith strengthened, their hope reborn. And they go out to share the Good News. They gather the courage to return to Jerusalem in the dark (remember how unsafe it is to travel at night?) to tell the others that the Lord is risen.
This passage reminds me how much we need to worship in the community of believers at all times, but certainly at this time in our history. And yet, the worst thing we could do during a pandemic is to gather bodily together around the Table. However, even as the Lord can appear on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere, Jesus can come to us wherever we are sheltering in place.
We can give thanks that the creators of Zoom and Facebook Live - unwitting ministers of God's grace that they might be - have given us the technology to continue to worship together, even if not in person. And we can look forward to the day (and it will return!) when we can gather in our respective sanctuaries, mosques and synagogues. In the meantime, whenever we break bread - around the dinner table, online, when we share our possessions (money, food, toilet paper) with those who are without - the presence of the Risen Lord will be revealed to us.
Let's look at Cleopas and his unnamed friend. They are conditioned by their history and culture to see what they see, as well as to overlook what they cannot see. They are dejected and depressed because the man they considered a great prophet, and possibly even the promised Messiah, has been executed. They could not comprehend of a different kind of Messiah than the one they've been taught to look for. They are looking for another King David, or at least a political insurrectionist in line with the Maccabean brothers.
These two are also conditioned by their paternalistic culture to discount the women's account of the empty tomb. Not until men of their company verify that the tomb is empty do they believe it. And since these men did not actually see Jesus himself, they were skeptical of the claim that he was alive. The disciples are no different. It is not until Peter recounts his interaction with Jesus that they accept the truth of Jesus' resurrection.
The two disciples, their faith thus limited, start down the road despondent and dejected.
Now, let's look at Jesus. He has a wicked sense of humor. He approaches these two sad men, knowing full well why they are depressed. Jesus is unrecognizable to them (why? did he make himself unrecognizable? Were the two walkers unable to recognize Jesus because they couldn't comprehend a risen Jesus? Is it just a literary technique?). This Stranger pretends to be clueless about current events, and even eggs the two on as they relate the sad current events. When they finish their story, the Lord responds with not a very polite retort: "You foolish and slow-witted guys. Can't you understand the Scriptures? That the Messiah had to suffer in order to come into his glory?"
Of course these two didn't comprehend the Scriptures; because, they were conditioned to understand them otherwise. Jesus then reveals to them the meaning of all scripture during the two-hour walk. When the three of them reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends like he's continuing down the road. Knowing that continuing to travel in the wilderness in the dark was very dangerous, they plead with Jesus to stay the night with them.
Jesus' last trick: when it's time for dinner, Jesus - the guest - usurps the role of host, blesses the bread and breaks it and gives it to the two men. In that act, Jesus reveals his identity, and then disappears! Do you see what I mean by a wicked sense of humor?
This is a rich story, which can be perceived from many different perspectives. The application that appeals most to me is to understand the road to Emmaus as a worship experience of the Risen Christ. The two disciples enter the journey despondent, their faith broken, their hope lost. On the road, they hear the sermon: the Law and the Prophets interpreted and the Good News of Jesus Christ proclaimed. The Spirit is moving in this exposition of Scripture -- "did not our hearts burn within us?"
The worshippers reach their home and gather at the table. Where two or three are gathered, there is the Lord also, made known to the worshippers in the breaking of the bread. Nourished with the Word preached and the Word consumed in the Eucharist, the two worshippers are restored. Their hearts warmed, their faith strengthened, their hope reborn. And they go out to share the Good News. They gather the courage to return to Jerusalem in the dark (remember how unsafe it is to travel at night?) to tell the others that the Lord is risen.
This passage reminds me how much we need to worship in the community of believers at all times, but certainly at this time in our history. And yet, the worst thing we could do during a pandemic is to gather bodily together around the Table. However, even as the Lord can appear on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere, Jesus can come to us wherever we are sheltering in place.
We can give thanks that the creators of Zoom and Facebook Live - unwitting ministers of God's grace that they might be - have given us the technology to continue to worship together, even if not in person. And we can look forward to the day (and it will return!) when we can gather in our respective sanctuaries, mosques and synagogues. In the meantime, whenever we break bread - around the dinner table, online, when we share our possessions (money, food, toilet paper) with those who are without - the presence of the Risen Lord will be revealed to us.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
April 19 Gospel: John 20:19-31
The Gospel passage relates the post-resurrection appearance of Jesus, on the evening of the Day of Resurrection, in the locked upper room where the disciples were gathered, except for Thomas. Days later, the disciples are gathered again, hiding in the upper room, this time with Thomas present. Jesus challenges doubting Thomas to believe. The punch line of the passage is Jesus' statement, "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe."
But I don't want to talk about that. Everybody else will talk about that. I want to talk about how Jesus announces himself when he appears (though a locked door!): "Peace be with you."
It reminds me of what my Arabic friends say to me when we greet one another: "As salaamu al-aikum." Jesus spoke Aramaic, so he would have said, "Shlomo aleykhum." Notice the similarity? Was Jesus just saying, "Hi, y'all" in his colloquial language? Or was he saying something more profound? Conversely, when we say, "Shalom" or "Salaam," are we simply acknowledging another, or are we blessing that one?
Just as Jesus took simple bread and wine and made something much more of it, I think he was also taking this simple, common greeting and making it sacramental. Just as the Aramaic "Hi, y'all" has become the passing of the peace in liturgical Christian worship. It is not meant to be rote and thoughtless. It should be a deep, meaningful benediction that we offer to one another.
Jesus said, "Peace be unto you." Ten frightened men, hiding behind a locked door, fearful for their lives. How on earth were they going to feel anything near peace? The peace, of course, comes from Jesus Messiah. After he offers his blessing of peace to a group of men who could not possibly feel any sense of wholeness or security, Jesus then breathes upon them the Holy Spirit.
Why does Jesus breathe the spirit? The spirit is breath (pneuma in Greek) and wind (ruach in Hebrew). What this says about Jesus is that he is Lord. Not just a really good fellow. But God the Divine Self. The spirit (wind) of God moved upon the chaotic waters at creation. God breathed life into the nostrils of Adam. Jesus breathed the Spirit upon the disciples. By the Spirit we can comprehend and bask in the peace that only God can offer.
Today is not a peaceful day. There is so much fear and danger because of a virus. There is so much political turmoil in a country that was already poignantly divided before this crisis arose. There is no peace - no wholeness, no security - in the world. But there is peace in God, from God. This is how we, as Christians, can be counter-cultural - how we can chart a different path than the one we see on the television news or read on Twitter. We can walk by faith in the peace of God and witness to a frightened world that God reigns.
"Peace be with you," Jesus said. And he made this peace a reality by bathing us in the Holy Spirit. Walk, then, as people of peace.
But I don't want to talk about that. Everybody else will talk about that. I want to talk about how Jesus announces himself when he appears (though a locked door!): "Peace be with you."
It reminds me of what my Arabic friends say to me when we greet one another: "As salaamu al-aikum." Jesus spoke Aramaic, so he would have said, "Shlomo aleykhum." Notice the similarity? Was Jesus just saying, "Hi, y'all" in his colloquial language? Or was he saying something more profound? Conversely, when we say, "Shalom" or "Salaam," are we simply acknowledging another, or are we blessing that one?
Just as Jesus took simple bread and wine and made something much more of it, I think he was also taking this simple, common greeting and making it sacramental. Just as the Aramaic "Hi, y'all" has become the passing of the peace in liturgical Christian worship. It is not meant to be rote and thoughtless. It should be a deep, meaningful benediction that we offer to one another.
Jesus said, "Peace be unto you." Ten frightened men, hiding behind a locked door, fearful for their lives. How on earth were they going to feel anything near peace? The peace, of course, comes from Jesus Messiah. After he offers his blessing of peace to a group of men who could not possibly feel any sense of wholeness or security, Jesus then breathes upon them the Holy Spirit.
Why does Jesus breathe the spirit? The spirit is breath (pneuma in Greek) and wind (ruach in Hebrew). What this says about Jesus is that he is Lord. Not just a really good fellow. But God the Divine Self. The spirit (wind) of God moved upon the chaotic waters at creation. God breathed life into the nostrils of Adam. Jesus breathed the Spirit upon the disciples. By the Spirit we can comprehend and bask in the peace that only God can offer.
Today is not a peaceful day. There is so much fear and danger because of a virus. There is so much political turmoil in a country that was already poignantly divided before this crisis arose. There is no peace - no wholeness, no security - in the world. But there is peace in God, from God. This is how we, as Christians, can be counter-cultural - how we can chart a different path than the one we see on the television news or read on Twitter. We can walk by faith in the peace of God and witness to a frightened world that God reigns.
"Peace be with you," Jesus said. And he made this peace a reality by bathing us in the Holy Spirit. Walk, then, as people of peace.
Friday, April 17, 2020
April 19 Lectionary Psalm 16
The Psalmist calls upon God to continue protecting and blessing him, as God has in the past. He refuses to worship other gods, nor does he even acknowledge them, for to the Psalmist, God alone is Lord, and only God is worthy of the Psalmist's continuous worship. Because the Psalmist walks with God (constantly in prayer and seeking God's will), his path is steady and sure. With God at his right hand, he cannot falter.
Striking in this psalm is how the author moves from how God has blessed his earthly life, to how God will walk with him through death to the other side. God will not let him fall into the Pit, for God's path is the path of life. This is not a pagan belief in reincarnation or immortality of the soul, but a faithful confession that in God - and only in YHWH - is there life, now and beyond the grave. It is not us who will defeat death, but God. And, as Paul wrote, because we participate in the death of Christ, we will also live eternally with him.
These words bring comfort as we face any and all of life's challenges, but even more immediately, as we struggle with a global viral pandemic. This pestilence will bring death to many, and sickness to many more. But even in the face of death, we can trust in God to walk beside us (at our right hand) onto the path of Life.
Worshipping other gods will bring us only sorrow. Governments and scientists may mitigate the ravages of the pandemic, but they cannot defeat or repel it. Our economy will not save us; like the gods made of stone and wood, Wall Street has failed us and jobless rates have soared. Only the true God, YHWH, can save us. In God alone must we put our trust.
Striking in this psalm is how the author moves from how God has blessed his earthly life, to how God will walk with him through death to the other side. God will not let him fall into the Pit, for God's path is the path of life. This is not a pagan belief in reincarnation or immortality of the soul, but a faithful confession that in God - and only in YHWH - is there life, now and beyond the grave. It is not us who will defeat death, but God. And, as Paul wrote, because we participate in the death of Christ, we will also live eternally with him.
These words bring comfort as we face any and all of life's challenges, but even more immediately, as we struggle with a global viral pandemic. This pestilence will bring death to many, and sickness to many more. But even in the face of death, we can trust in God to walk beside us (at our right hand) onto the path of Life.
Worshipping other gods will bring us only sorrow. Governments and scientists may mitigate the ravages of the pandemic, but they cannot defeat or repel it. Our economy will not save us; like the gods made of stone and wood, Wall Street has failed us and jobless rates have soared. Only the true God, YHWH, can save us. In God alone must we put our trust.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
New Testament Lectionary Passage for April 19: Acts 2:14a, 22-23
I find the lectionary reading from Acts a curious choice for several reasons: (1) it is more properly associated with Pentecost, which falls on May 31, this year; (2) the reading snips out of the passage verse 14 (and only the first half, at that), and verses 22-23, which, de facto, takes the reading out of context.; and finally, (3) we are reading only about the crucifixion of Jesus - on the Sunday after Easter, no less - and leaving out the very next paragraph in Peter's sermon, which explicitly mentions the Resurrection.
Verse 14a will be repeated again on Sunday, April 26, signifying that the passage, once again, is a snippet of Peter's Pentecost sermon, and another (albeit fuller) excision from the text will be read (once again eliding out the Resurrection).
Verses 22 and 23 are the "meat" - a thin slice - of the passage for Sunday. Peter calls to mind to the "Israelites" in his audience the miraculous works of Jesus, about which they presumably heard, and being people of the Covenant, should have recognized that these miracles were evidence of God's anointing on Jesus (which, indeed, is the meaning of the word, "Messiah"). And yet, these same hearers Peter accuses of turning Jesus over to those "outside the Law" to be executed.
Older translations use the phrase "lawless men"; however, a more accurate translation is the NRSV's "those outside the Law," that is gentiles - the Romans. The implication is a rubbing of salt in the wound, much like serving Jesus bacon or ham for his last meal before execution.
Can we directly blame the pilgrims standing at the Temple listening to Peter's sermon for Jesus' death? That doesn't make sense to the Western mind, so immersed in individuality. However, in communal cultures, the concept of corporate sin is a reality (and should be in our culture as well). To put it another way, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good (persons) do nothing" (attributed to Edmund Burke and Martin Luther King, Jr., among others).
The surprise in the passage comes in the last verse, where Peter, having only recently realized this himself, tells the congregation that this tragedy - the execution of the Messiah - was not an accident, because God foreknew and planned for this tragic event. Herein lies the great paradox of Providence. How can God agree to, accept or accommodate the execution of God's own Son? Again, to our rational paradigm of thought, which is dualistic, it needs to be one way or the other. But if we can begin to comprehend "both/and" thinking - to see more of a yin-yang than an either-or, we can begin to understand how God can be in control and yet out of it. Or as John Calvin presciently put it, "nothing is done without God's will, not even that which is against his will" (Institutes, I.18.3).
This is the kernel, I think, that will preach. When we are confronted by the darkest hour, God is still present, and in control. As former moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) Dr. Joan Gray often says, "God will make a way where there is no way."
Today we are facing a crisis not known in our lifetime, as if the world literally stopped spinning because of a tiny snippet of RNA (not since the Spanish flu of 1918 have we been so affected by a pandemic). We are in the midst of it right now, without a clear path to the other side. Perhaps it is appropriate, this year, that the Lectionary passage ends abruptly before the mention of the Resurrection, because we are still walking through the valley of the shadow of death, and new life is only a vague mirage in the distance.
Many of us won't make it through the dark valley. None of us will make it to the other side unchanged. So what is the good news in the dark valley in which we find ourselves? The good news is that God is here in the valley with us. God did not bring COVID-19 upon us any more than God forced Judas to betray Jesus or the Romans to crucify him. But God was at the cross - even when Jesus didn't believe it ("My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"). And God is with us today. At the bedside in ICU. At the drive-by testing site. At the grocery store and in the grocery delivery van. Sheltering in place with us.
God did not create COVID-19, but neither did the virus throw God a curveball. Even though the death and illness brought upon us by the virus was against God's will, it is still somehow encapsulated and overcome by God's Providence.
And even though the Lectionary text ends before the Resurrection, we know there is a Final Word that belongs to God, and not to the powers of darkness. Because we celebrated Easter last Sunday. Even if I become infected, and, yes, even if I die, yet I will live again, because He lives. Alleluia.
Verse 14a will be repeated again on Sunday, April 26, signifying that the passage, once again, is a snippet of Peter's Pentecost sermon, and another (albeit fuller) excision from the text will be read (once again eliding out the Resurrection).
Verses 22 and 23 are the "meat" - a thin slice - of the passage for Sunday. Peter calls to mind to the "Israelites" in his audience the miraculous works of Jesus, about which they presumably heard, and being people of the Covenant, should have recognized that these miracles were evidence of God's anointing on Jesus (which, indeed, is the meaning of the word, "Messiah"). And yet, these same hearers Peter accuses of turning Jesus over to those "outside the Law" to be executed.
Older translations use the phrase "lawless men"; however, a more accurate translation is the NRSV's "those outside the Law," that is gentiles - the Romans. The implication is a rubbing of salt in the wound, much like serving Jesus bacon or ham for his last meal before execution.
Can we directly blame the pilgrims standing at the Temple listening to Peter's sermon for Jesus' death? That doesn't make sense to the Western mind, so immersed in individuality. However, in communal cultures, the concept of corporate sin is a reality (and should be in our culture as well). To put it another way, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good (persons) do nothing" (attributed to Edmund Burke and Martin Luther King, Jr., among others).
The surprise in the passage comes in the last verse, where Peter, having only recently realized this himself, tells the congregation that this tragedy - the execution of the Messiah - was not an accident, because God foreknew and planned for this tragic event. Herein lies the great paradox of Providence. How can God agree to, accept or accommodate the execution of God's own Son? Again, to our rational paradigm of thought, which is dualistic, it needs to be one way or the other. But if we can begin to comprehend "both/and" thinking - to see more of a yin-yang than an either-or, we can begin to understand how God can be in control and yet out of it. Or as John Calvin presciently put it, "nothing is done without God's will, not even that which is against his will" (Institutes, I.18.3).
This is the kernel, I think, that will preach. When we are confronted by the darkest hour, God is still present, and in control. As former moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) Dr. Joan Gray often says, "God will make a way where there is no way."
Today we are facing a crisis not known in our lifetime, as if the world literally stopped spinning because of a tiny snippet of RNA (not since the Spanish flu of 1918 have we been so affected by a pandemic). We are in the midst of it right now, without a clear path to the other side. Perhaps it is appropriate, this year, that the Lectionary passage ends abruptly before the mention of the Resurrection, because we are still walking through the valley of the shadow of death, and new life is only a vague mirage in the distance.
Many of us won't make it through the dark valley. None of us will make it to the other side unchanged. So what is the good news in the dark valley in which we find ourselves? The good news is that God is here in the valley with us. God did not bring COVID-19 upon us any more than God forced Judas to betray Jesus or the Romans to crucify him. But God was at the cross - even when Jesus didn't believe it ("My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"). And God is with us today. At the bedside in ICU. At the drive-by testing site. At the grocery store and in the grocery delivery van. Sheltering in place with us.
God did not create COVID-19, but neither did the virus throw God a curveball. Even though the death and illness brought upon us by the virus was against God's will, it is still somehow encapsulated and overcome by God's Providence.
And even though the Lectionary text ends before the Resurrection, we know there is a Final Word that belongs to God, and not to the powers of darkness. Because we celebrated Easter last Sunday. Even if I become infected, and, yes, even if I die, yet I will live again, because He lives. Alleluia.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Strike down the individual mandate, and socialism will raise its ugly head
The No Compromise mentality that is currently rampant in the USA is causing terrible damage to our national fabric.
Liberal Democrats are, and will continue to be, committed to universal health care, or something that closely approximates it. Conservative Republicans, on the other hand, are against anything that increases deficit spending or taxes on job creators.
The two sides met on the constitutional battlefield this week, fighting over the legality of the "individual mandate"; that is, can Congress force citizens to purchase health insurance?
To be fair to the conservative side, to require an individual to participate in a market seems like stretching the Commerce clause of the Constitution to the breaking point. It is one thing to regulate how citizens participate in a market; it is another thing altogether to force a citizen to participate in the market against his or her will.
I'm not sure that the conservative party actually believes in the constitutional argument, or is simply using it to defeat the health care reform law. I say that because a Republican, Richard Nixon, was the first to suggest the individual mandate, and as recently as two years ago, Republican candidate and Tea Party courtier Newt Gingrich also supported it.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Solicitor General Donald Verrilli, who argued on behalf of the government. As he pointed out, the Obama administration attempted to put forth a health care plan that would preserve at least some level of private market participation in the health care industry, yet the plan may very well be found unconstitutional and the whole law thrown out. Judging by the questions and comments spoken by the conservative justices, Scalia most prominently, it seems likely that this is exactly what the outcome will be in June.
Which leaves Congress with a more drastic recourse, if they really want to provide universal health coverage which is unquestionably constitutional: Congress has the power to levy taxes - in this case, to fund a single-payer health care system. You can be sure that the most liberal members of Congress will begin floating this balloon if the Accountable Care Act is gutted in June.
If the Supreme Court finds the individual mandate unconstitutional, it will cause much of the law to unravel, even if the court doesn't throw out the whole law. The purpose of the individual mandate was to pull young, healthy people into the insurance risk pool, so that the risk could be spread around a larger population, pushing the per-episode cost of care down (or, actually, watering it down with a larger denominator).
But the real problem with striking the individual mandate is its effect on another part of the ACA: the prohibition against excluding persons with pre-existing conditions from insurance coverage. Without the individual mandate, insurance companies will all go bankrupt if forced to provide coverage to folks with pre-existing conditions. This is because of what is known as moral hazard. Another term for moral hazard is, "freeloading." Insurance works because risk is spread among a large pool of insured people. Many folks already gamble and choose not to purchase health insurance, in order to spend that money on other things. Sometimes that's a nicer car or a larger house. Sometimes it's food and the electric bill. For the latter, the ACA provides expanded Medicaid coverage (also being challenged by the 26 Republican Governors behind the Supreme Court case) and financial subsidies to purchase insurance coverage. For the former, the law uses a stick - a twig, really - of a fine of 1% of adjusted gross income, paid at tax season, for refusing to purchase insurance. This punishing penalty grows to 2.5% of AGI eventually.
Without the individual mandate, and knowing human nature, one can fully expect that the number of people who play the moral hazard game will increase dramatically under the ACA, because they are no longer gambling. They can avoid purchasing insurance until they get sick. And then, since the pre-existing exclusion was banned in the law, they would simply purchase insurance, and no company could turn them away. Of course, that would bankrupt the insurance companies, because they would no longer be able to spread risk. Nearly 100% of their insured lives would be net debtors, rather than creditors.
Without the individual mandate, the pre-existing condition safeguard falls. Without the safeguard, universal coverage fails, and the pre-existing condition insurance plans, currently scheduled to expire in 2014, will have to continue indefinitely.
So I am okay with ruling the individual mandate unconstitutional. Let's agree (at least, for argument's sake) that American citizens should have the freedom to refuse to purchase health insurance. But with freedom comes responsibility, or in this case, accountability for your decisions. The prohibition against pre-existing condition exclusions should also be eliminated; otherwise, we are effectively destroying the private health insurance market. Then when these very citizens present themselves to the local hospital emergency room - since they chose not to participate in the health care market - they should be completely responsible for financing their own treatment. They can use their credit cards. They can take out a home equity loan (if they have any equity). They can liquidate their IRAs.
Physicians and hospitals should be allowed to turn these non-participating citizens away if they cannot pay their bills up front.
I suspect, however, that the Federal Government will never allow hospitals to turn away persons suffering true emergencies. Fine. But then, when the hospitals put these patients into bankruptcy by seizing all of their personal assets to cover the cost of their care, don't cast the hospital in a harsh light, as if the hospital is doing something awful by expecting the customer to pay his or her bill. Remember that it was the patient who refused to participate in the health insurance market.
We can't have it both ways. Either we stand for individual liberty, or we stand for community responsibility. Or we stop drawing lines in the sand and learn how to come together and compromise over practical solutions.
Liberal Democrats are, and will continue to be, committed to universal health care, or something that closely approximates it. Conservative Republicans, on the other hand, are against anything that increases deficit spending or taxes on job creators.
The two sides met on the constitutional battlefield this week, fighting over the legality of the "individual mandate"; that is, can Congress force citizens to purchase health insurance?
To be fair to the conservative side, to require an individual to participate in a market seems like stretching the Commerce clause of the Constitution to the breaking point. It is one thing to regulate how citizens participate in a market; it is another thing altogether to force a citizen to participate in the market against his or her will.
I'm not sure that the conservative party actually believes in the constitutional argument, or is simply using it to defeat the health care reform law. I say that because a Republican, Richard Nixon, was the first to suggest the individual mandate, and as recently as two years ago, Republican candidate and Tea Party courtier Newt Gingrich also supported it.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Solicitor General Donald Verrilli, who argued on behalf of the government. As he pointed out, the Obama administration attempted to put forth a health care plan that would preserve at least some level of private market participation in the health care industry, yet the plan may very well be found unconstitutional and the whole law thrown out. Judging by the questions and comments spoken by the conservative justices, Scalia most prominently, it seems likely that this is exactly what the outcome will be in June.
Which leaves Congress with a more drastic recourse, if they really want to provide universal health coverage which is unquestionably constitutional: Congress has the power to levy taxes - in this case, to fund a single-payer health care system. You can be sure that the most liberal members of Congress will begin floating this balloon if the Accountable Care Act is gutted in June.
If the Supreme Court finds the individual mandate unconstitutional, it will cause much of the law to unravel, even if the court doesn't throw out the whole law. The purpose of the individual mandate was to pull young, healthy people into the insurance risk pool, so that the risk could be spread around a larger population, pushing the per-episode cost of care down (or, actually, watering it down with a larger denominator).
But the real problem with striking the individual mandate is its effect on another part of the ACA: the prohibition against excluding persons with pre-existing conditions from insurance coverage. Without the individual mandate, insurance companies will all go bankrupt if forced to provide coverage to folks with pre-existing conditions. This is because of what is known as moral hazard. Another term for moral hazard is, "freeloading." Insurance works because risk is spread among a large pool of insured people. Many folks already gamble and choose not to purchase health insurance, in order to spend that money on other things. Sometimes that's a nicer car or a larger house. Sometimes it's food and the electric bill. For the latter, the ACA provides expanded Medicaid coverage (also being challenged by the 26 Republican Governors behind the Supreme Court case) and financial subsidies to purchase insurance coverage. For the former, the law uses a stick - a twig, really - of a fine of 1% of adjusted gross income, paid at tax season, for refusing to purchase insurance. This punishing penalty grows to 2.5% of AGI eventually.
Without the individual mandate, and knowing human nature, one can fully expect that the number of people who play the moral hazard game will increase dramatically under the ACA, because they are no longer gambling. They can avoid purchasing insurance until they get sick. And then, since the pre-existing exclusion was banned in the law, they would simply purchase insurance, and no company could turn them away. Of course, that would bankrupt the insurance companies, because they would no longer be able to spread risk. Nearly 100% of their insured lives would be net debtors, rather than creditors.
Without the individual mandate, the pre-existing condition safeguard falls. Without the safeguard, universal coverage fails, and the pre-existing condition insurance plans, currently scheduled to expire in 2014, will have to continue indefinitely.
So I am okay with ruling the individual mandate unconstitutional. Let's agree (at least, for argument's sake) that American citizens should have the freedom to refuse to purchase health insurance. But with freedom comes responsibility, or in this case, accountability for your decisions. The prohibition against pre-existing condition exclusions should also be eliminated; otherwise, we are effectively destroying the private health insurance market. Then when these very citizens present themselves to the local hospital emergency room - since they chose not to participate in the health care market - they should be completely responsible for financing their own treatment. They can use their credit cards. They can take out a home equity loan (if they have any equity). They can liquidate their IRAs.
Physicians and hospitals should be allowed to turn these non-participating citizens away if they cannot pay their bills up front.
I suspect, however, that the Federal Government will never allow hospitals to turn away persons suffering true emergencies. Fine. But then, when the hospitals put these patients into bankruptcy by seizing all of their personal assets to cover the cost of their care, don't cast the hospital in a harsh light, as if the hospital is doing something awful by expecting the customer to pay his or her bill. Remember that it was the patient who refused to participate in the health insurance market.
We can't have it both ways. Either we stand for individual liberty, or we stand for community responsibility. Or we stop drawing lines in the sand and learn how to come together and compromise over practical solutions.
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