He withered-up a tree!

A long time ago, now, when I was in seminary, there was a popular Christian singer, at least among Baptists in the south. And she is still around: her name is Cynthia Clawson.

Dove winner, multiple times, Grammy-nominated…  If you have ever watched any of the Gaither Homecoming shows or videos, chances are you have seen her. More of what she looks like now…

And she is still at it, but long past her best or most popular days.

This is my favorite picture of her: from one of her albums, called "The Way I Feel." Kind of angelic, a bit mysterious.

On that album she did the most beautiful arrangement I have ever heard of Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling—that old, Sunday night, come-to-Jesus, you sang it if you grew up Baptist hymn.

Here is a link to it, from the 1985 movie, The Trip to Bountiful (which is a great movie, if you have never seen it):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jq73glgQWps
 
The song is in our UM hymnal, too: number 368, I believe.  

If Billy Graham, Cliff Barrows and the Crusade choir made Just As I Am the most famous invitation hymn of all time, I came to Jesus, walked the aisle—and maybe some of you did too—while the choir and congregation Softly and Tenderly.

I will go so far as to say that that if our choir had sung Cynthia Clawson’s version of it—or if she had been there to sing it—I would have come to Jesus twice. I would have walked down, to shake the preacher’s hand, then hurried back to back to my pew so I could come down the aisle again.

Beautiful. Tears me up and tears me up every time I hear it: “Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling. Calling for you and for me. See! On the portals, he is waiting and watching, watching for you and for me..." And so he is.

"Come home, come home. Ye who are weary come home.” And so I did. At age 8. Nor have I left home since... though there have been times I thought about it.

II

Another of Cynthia Clawson’s heart-rending, tear-evoking, soul-saving songs came to my mind this week, for the first time in decades. But tomorrow's morning’s scripture lesson--how Jesus turned over the money-changers’ tables--is bookended by another, stranger story: Jesus's cursing of the fig tree (Mark 11: 12-14, 20-21). That story of that poor fig tree brought to mind the lyric of I Heard About a Man. 

Here is a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2BR2wBeK58 

It is about as simple and as beautiful a presentation of the gospel as I know…
 

              I heard about a man, who came to live in time…

he did amazing things with water and new wine

              He helped the cripple walk and

he made the blind to see…

And then you know what else he did?

                             He gave himself for me.

              He was a simple man, he really had no home…

He’d go and stay where he was at, next morning he’d be gone

              He made the leper whole,

and the he set the prisoners free.

And then you know what else he did?

                             He came to stay with me.

              Because I know this one who was man and yet divine                    

              Because I know what love can do in just a second’s time

              Because he made me fully whole… he gave me a song to sing…  

             

              He was a humble man, but always he was bold

              He would stop and talk a while, but he could see right through your soul

              He fed a hungry crowd, and he withered up a tree…

III

He withered-up a tree.  Do you remember? Can you imagine?

And surely one of the most surprising, if not the most surprising episodes in all the gospel stories of Jesus.

Feeding hungry crowds? Helping cripples walk? Making new wine from water, and the blind to see?

Amazing as those things are, they are not surprising, given what we know of Jesus.

Making lepers whole and setting prisoners free? Absolutely in keeping with the loving, gracious, compassionate character of Jesus…

But withering up a tree? When it wasn’t even the season for figs?

I can only imagine it, think of it as a kind of displacement.

Do you know that term? You are mad at your spouse, but throw something at the TV. You are mad at your boss, but you snap at your children.

Displacement. When you are mad at one thing and take it out on another thing.

I can only imagine Jesus was angry at what he saw the day before, when he entered the Temple precincts… and took it out on the poor fig tree.

IV

The day before, Jesus and the disciples had come into Jerusalem. Jesus was on a donkey. The crowds were excited. The religious and political and maybe even the military officials were a little nervous. But when Jesus arrived, after he looked around at everything, he left and went to Bethany.

I wonder what he thought, what he felt, being in the Temple again. Mark does not tell the story, but Luke says that when Jesus was a little boy, he had come to Jerusalem, to the Temple, had had good discussions with the Teachers of the Law. They were amazed at his understanding. For their part, Mary and Joseph were terrified. At least when they finally realized he was not with them. They went and searched for him… remember what he said? “I must be about my Father’s business.”

That was what the Temple was for. Even the boy Jesus could see that: discussing the scriptures, prayer and worship. 

Years have passed since last time Jesus saw the Temple. And now, what did Jesus see?

Not the Temple’s business. But the business of the Temple. The buying and selling and unholy pandemonium of what had the appearance of worship. Pretty. Lush. Prosperous.

The Temple area was huge: 32 acres, the size of 34 soccer fields, and on special occasions it could hold 400,000 people. The Temple and its associated businesses were the main employer and economic engine of Jerusalem…and every day, just humming, like the great machine it was.  
Jesus and the boys looked around at everything, then headed to Bethany. Next morning, they started back into Jerusalem.

On the way, Jesus saw a fig tree, lush and green.

Jesus went to it, to get a fig. Only it was not the season for figs.

Did you get that? It was not the season for figs!

So, no real surprise, there were no figs. But, for some reason it ran all over Jesus. And he cursed the tree: “May you never bring forth figs again!” And next day, it was withered to its roots.

Why?

We might also ask why Jesus was so upset at the Temple mount. At the buying and selling. What the buyers and sellers and money-changers were doing was perfectly legal, and even necessary.

If you were coming from Nazareth, say… like that time when Jesus was 12… Mary and Joseph and the others were going to Jerusalem to sacrifice. But that was a journey of 65 miles. Can you imagine leading a cow, herding sheep, for 65 miles to the place of sacrifice?

So, instead, you sold your cow, or sheep, and took the money—mostly likely Roman money, most likely with an image of Tiberius on it—and came to Jerusalem with it, there to launder your money, to change the pagan currency into currency acceptable in the Temple. You bought a sheep or a cow, doves or a goat to complete the sacrifice.  

There had to be money-changers. There had to be animal sellers. Thieves? Maybe. They did charge interest. Maybe some of them charged too much. Maybe the "business of the Temple" has supplanted the "Temple's business."

Which is to say, maybe there was a different kind of theft going on… not that the people were being robbed by the money-changers, but God was being robbed of the prayers of the people by the exclusionary practices of the religious establishment.

A house of prayer for all people that did not allow all the people close, and even determined who could and could not worship in the prescribed way. If you did not have enough money to buy even the doves, which were the poorests' offering, one had to walk away.

IV

And perhaps that is what we are angry about too, some of us. In this battle of interpretation raging across the church, it is not just "what is written in the law" but "how we read." And Jesus' anger seems to indicate, at least in Mark, that if our churches are excluding anyone, we are robbing God of God's rightful due--praise from all God's children.

That said, Jesus' anger is not merely anger. It is rooted in love for God, for God's house, for all the people of God.

The end of I Heard About a Man is this:

          He fed a hungry crowd and he withered up a tree.

          And then you know what else he did? He blossomed forth in me.  

Without love, all our anger and cursing reveals is how our spirit is already withered to the roots. 

Lent and the Power of Mirrors

Lent. A Season of self-examination. A time to look into the mirror, as it were, to see yourself as you really are.  In this rather long blog I want us to look at two stories from St. Luke. Both involve dinners to which Jesus was invited. Similar in a way, and at the same time very different.

For each I will give you a bit of set-up. Then you will see the actual text.

Then three suggestions for reflection.

At the end I will give you a further   thought concerning these stories, and another story St. Luke told.

I invite you to let these texts be mirrors. Which is to say, look for yourself in the stories: for who you think you are, and for whom you hope you are not.

And look for Jesus, of course, who wherever he is, and even here, we believe, today, always seems to attract both the righteous, and the unrighteous; the put-together, and the broken; humble sinners and… the indignantly faithful. 

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The first story begins with an unexpected call; the second with an unexpected invitation.

In the first story, the dinner at Levi’s house, the primary actors are Jesus, Levi (a tax collector) and his tax collecting friends; the Pharisees, and their legal advisers, the scribes.

Tax collectors were Roman collaborators, carpet baggers and scalawags, traitors to their own people. These guys are the Mafia, backed by Roman muscle… and Jesus calls one of them to be his disciple.

Levi in turn calls-over all his rowdy friends, as it were: celebrates with other tax collectors and sinners the welcome and summons he has received from Jesus.

Jesus also attends, which is no surprise to us, but it surely scandalized the Pharisees and scribes who were… watching from a distance, I guess, but close enough to see, and to fuss at the disciples, and to reprimand Jesus…

Already they don’t like how Jesus is not teaching appropriate respect for Sabbath; how he claims to forgive sins; how he is not reinforcing necessary cultural and religious identity markers (Sabbath-keeping, hand-washing) markers during the Roman occupation.

To their way of thinking—at least to our way of thinking—Jesus is not serious enough about sin, or resisting the empire, or making the nation great again.

Are they smug, or afraid, in their indignant self-righteousness? Either way, they seem to know who they are by whom they would not welcome to the table. Exclusion is the root and fruit of their religion. At least that is the way we see them now.

And we ourselves have seen folk like this, have we not? In our own day.  
I just got back from St. Louis, where outside the great convention center where United Methodist factions battled to their virtual and humiliating self-destruction: I witnessed up close the sign-carrying ministrations of Westboro Baptist Church.
I also saw people inside who were just as judgmental, just as smug and indignant, just as afraid, one way or the other.
(For another contemporary expression of the Pharisees' self-righteous and exclusionary pique, see the reaction of some commentators to Lauren Daigle appearing on the Ellen DeGeneres Show: https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/12/let-lauren-daigle-be-unsure-about-lgbt-relationships/577651/) 

Back in Luke, in that first story: that evening at Levi’s dinner party, the Pharisees and their legal advisors, the scribes, are horrified that Jesus would call a tax collector to be his disciple. That Jesus would eat with sinners. But who is the sinner? Who is the righteous?

²⁷ After (Jesus healed the paralytic on the mat) he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” ²⁸ And he got up, left everything, and followed him. ²⁹ Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a large crowd of tax collectors and others sitting at the table with them. ³⁰ The Pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” ³¹ Jesus answered, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; ³² I have come to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

Prompts:

In what ways do you identify with Levi and his guests?

In what ways do you identify with the Pharisees and their scribes?

Is there any way in which you identify with Jesus?

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The second story begins when one of the Pharisees, Simon by name, invites Jesus to an outdoor dinner party. Probably on a big back patio, behind Simon’s house.

And a surprise, I think, that Simon invited Jesus to dinner at all, given the company Jesus keeps—which company could have made Jesus and everyone else at Simon’s party, ritually unclean.  
Surprising, too, because some of the Pharisees already have reservations, at least, about Jesus’ teachings; questions about the style and substance of his ministry, grave concerns about his disregard of cultural and religious identifiers.  

Do you consider it a surprise that Jesus seems as willing to eat with Simon and his friends as he was to eat with Levi and his friends?
Would you go to a dinner party with one of the sign-carriers from Westboro Baptist Church?

If not, why not? 

So, good for Simon that he invited Jesus. Good for Jesus that he went.

It appears, though, as if Simon seats Jesus at the lower tables, a good ways from the head table, but still close enough that Simon can see, can keep tabs, the way generous hosts are always checking on their guests.

Only, not like that, either. Simon is not so much tending to his guests as holding court, making notes. Nothing very gracious about his welcome. No water. No oil. No kiss.

He may have been playing a game. It may have been a power play:

By inviting the upstart rabbi, perhaps Simon is hoping to demonstrate that he is not threatened by the populist preacher. Is he asserting dominance, marking his territory, as it were, by inviting him, but not letting him too close?

Jesus finds himself close to the edges of the patio—where the uninvited would gather ‘round to watch the party—much as we read People magazine, or keep up with the Kardashians: we all enjoy the warmth of reflected celebrity. Gives us enhanced identity.  

You know the story. The scandalous demonstration by the woman. The indignant incredulity of Simon… if this man really were a prophet… the parable that Jesus uses to expose Simon… nicely played, Jesus… and the joy of forgiveness.

³⁶ One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. ³⁷ And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. ³⁸ She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. ³⁹ Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.” ⁴⁰ Jesus spoke up and said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Teacher,” he replied, “speak.” ⁴¹ “A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. ⁴² When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” ⁴³ Simon answered, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.” And Jesus said to him, “You have judged rightly.” ⁴⁴ Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. ⁴⁵ You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. ⁴⁶ You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. ⁴⁷ Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” ⁴⁸ Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” ⁴⁹ But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” ⁵⁰ And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Prompt:

        So, who do you want to be like in this story?

        Who are you most like in this story?

        What do you make of Jesus’ comments in both of these stories?

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Afterthought: another story, same lesson: Jesus tells a story about a Pharisee and a Tax Collector, this time gone up to the Temple.
 The Pharisee says, “Lord, I thank you that I am not like the Publican.”

The Publican says, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

When I read that story I say, “Lord, I thank you I am not like the Pharisee: judgmental, condescending, exclusionary…”, I prove that I am a Pharisee.

In St. Louis, when I said, “Lord I think you I am not judgmental like the folk from WBC,” which only proved I was every bit as judgmental as the folk from WBC.

When we judge people’s judgmentalism… exclude them for excluding... exclude them for including... when we wish everyone were as enlightened as we are…

When we, too, only guardedly welcome those about whom we have our suspicions…

When, as we read the stories, we see ourselves as the heroes, or as Jesus… the mirror of scripture reveals we are the Pharisees.

As James Sanders famously said, if we read the Scripture and congratulate ourselves, we can be sure we have read it wrong.  

 
Prayer of Confession

The Lord be with you.

And also with you.

Let us pray:

Grant us to see our self-righteousness, O God, in those moments when we condemn the self-righteousness of others. 

        Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer. 

Grant us to confess and repent of our own pride, before we ever decry the pride of others.

        Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 
Grant us to judge ourselves according to your Word, before we use your Word to judge others.

        Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 
Bring us to remembrance of our sins, before we ponder the sins of others.

        Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Then, in your mercy, forgive us. Free us to forgive others, and to believe in your perfect grace for all your imperfect children.

         Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.
 
         Lord, have mercy.
         Christ, have mercy.
         Lord, have mercy.
 
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Another Post from our Bishop and Others

As we anticipate our meeting after worship on Sunday, I invite you to ask yourselves what you want to ask me... and by that I mean, What do you want/need to hear from me on the downside of the General Conference?

I do not want to minimize or to overstate what all happened there (in my sermon on Sunday I will compare it to the strange scene in Luke 9 we call "the Transfiguration"), and as we prepare to enter the season of Lent, I will use both my sermon and the informational session following the service to talk about discipleship and the continuing work of ministry.  

As you ponder, and as I do, too, I am clear that for some I will not be able to say enough; for others, perhaps the GC said too much.

But how can we at HLUMC have the kinds of discussions that are helpful and fruitful, revealing and redemptive?

Here is a link that came today from Bishop Leeland and others: https://www.wnccumc.org/newsdetail/a-message-from-bishop-leeland-/a-message-from-bishop-leeland-12765528

He is saying much the same thing I have heard Ken Carter say (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujqKQwlH0N4).

Who is saying much the same thing I have read from the pen of our District Superintendent, David Hockett (http://wnc-email.brtapp.com/viewinsite/de0d63c43687d05458dc60908e6e31db?)

Be patient: Judicial Council does not meet till April.

Be prayerful: for all of us who are charged with, as the bishop says, upholding the Discipline and working for the unity of the Church.

Be faithful: do not make rash decisions, borne of either gloating or despair. We are not yet where we are going to be: God is leading us still.

Yes, some are happy because they believe we are advancing a Plan that is faithful to their particular reading of Scripture (not what is written, but how they read it); and some are in pain and deeper than they were because they believed the Church was ready to make a move in their direction.

In fact, neither group has reason enough to feel, finally, what they are understandably feeling now. We are just beginning the latest leg of this long journey.

So be hopeful. And let me say, I am. When I see the amazing ministry we are doing at Hawthorne Lane, I have never been more convinced of the importance of the Church and the Gospel, the relevance of grace to this graceless time and season. I stand on the promise of Jesus that the Church is his church, built on the foundation of the apostles, prophets and martyrs, and that nothing will finally subvert its mission. The "gates of hell" may assault Jesus and his Church, but they will surely not prevail.

So, Come. Let us reason together. Let us talk and pray and worship and discuss together. Because we are in this together. Or we can be.