| September 29 , 2002 Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Proper 21 Commentary by Russell Pregeant |
See also: [2008] [2005] |
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:23-32
Once again the readings from Exodus and
Psalms stand in partial contrast to one another. The psalm is a resounding
celebration of God’s mighty acts on behalf of Israel, among which is
counted the incident reported in the doublets Exodus 17:1-7 and Numbers
20:2-13. The Exodus text, by contrast, focuses on the negative—the
people’s quarreling with Moses as they find themselves lacking water to
drink and the narrator’s explanation of the names Moses confers upon the
site (Massah=test and Meribah=quarrel): "because the Israelites
quarreled and tested the LORD, saying, "Is the LORD among us or
not?"
And the reference in vs. 5 to the staff Moses had used to turn the Nile into blood increases the reader’s sense of the people’s intransigence: after all the wonders they had seen, the testing and quarreling must be seen as a gross lack of trust and confidence in God.
Ironically, however, the testing and quarreling set the stage for a particularly dramatic response on God’s part, dripping with delicious metaphorical potential: water from a rock! Even in the midst of human faithlessness, God responds dramatically. Part of the point of the story, of course, is that the divine presence and care seem nonexistent, which is a theme that those who approach the tradition from a non-supernaturalistic perspective should have deep appreciation. Thus an important challenge for a process interpreter is to find ways to mine the metaphorical potential of the theme of water from a rock by unveiling the ways in which God’s presence in all times and circumstances can in fact be discerned through attention to the concrete experiences of life. And of course the question with which the passage ends is rich in rhetorical possibilities along similar lines.
The gospel reading also has a strongly negative bent. Matthew 21:23-32 comes on the heels of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, assault on the Temple, subsequent dispute with the chief priests and scribes, and cursing of the fig tree. It is followed by the parables (actually, allegories) of the Wicked Tenants and the Wedding Banquet. In these latter passages Matthew’s Jesus articulates God’s rejection of either the current Jewish leadership or in some sense historical Israel itself (depending upon which scholars one follows) in no uncertain terms. For 21:45 makes certain that the reader knows that it is the chief priests and Pharisees whom Jesus identifies with the wicked tenants, and 22:7 unmistakably interprets the destruction of Jerusalem as God’s punishment. And this line of thought ultimately issues in the scene, agonizingly painful to progressive sensibilities, in which the crowd at Jesus’ trial proclaim, "His blood be on us and on our children" (27:25). Even if one follows a recent interpretation that limits the guilt to two generations—that of Jesus himself on the one hand and of Matthew’s church on the other—this whole thematic edifice remains a highly problematic element that cries out for a critical reading that brings ancient and contemporary presuppositions into meaningful interaction.
Our lectionary passage, in any case, is a link in Jesus’ final confrontation with the Jewish leadership. In vss. 23-27 he deftly deflects their challenge to his authority, and then in vss. 28-32 he tells the story of the Two Sons. Even without Jesus’ explanation in 31c-32, the context alone would show that in its Matthean setting this story is another allegory condemning the leaders of Israel. And vs. 32 makes the poignant point that the positive response of the tax collectors and prostitutes to John the Baptist should have awakened them to what God was doing in their midst. This insight then forms the background for the two allegories that follow, in which the events of Jesus’ own ministry and death receive symbolic treatment.
The more emphasis the preacher puts on the role of the passage in Matthew’s over-all plot, the more some sort of disclaimer with respect to anti-Judaism seems called for. And some aspects of process theology might be helpful in this regard. Not only is God present in all moments of experience, all communities of people, etc., but the creative advances that take place in streams of historical experience do not have to be understood in exclusivistic terms. To believe that God was at work in the formation of the early Christian faith and community by no means entails the notion that God rejects the stream that continues in another direction.
Although it is difficult (and probably unwise) to abstract the passage totally from its gospel context, it does have very clear potential for application to situations in which the church finds itself in our own time. The challenge for the preacher is to identify ways in which members of our contemporary society and religion fail to read the signs of the times while those "outside" in one way or another exhibit exemplary openness and responsiveness. And of course it is important to remember that the flip side of the passage’s negative thrust is a word of grace. If the originally uncooperative son, by virtue of his change of heart, is recognized as one who did the will of God, logic dictates that the same possibility remains for the second son—despite the fact that in the Matthean context the story serves to solidify a judgment against the Jewish leadership.
The epistle reading offers a literary unit within a literary unit. The passage as a whole is a call to obedient humility, reinforced with an extended reference to Christ as example, that ends in an exhortation to Paul’s readers to maintain their faithful, obedient attitude whether or not he is among them. The phrase "work out your [plural] own salvation" in vs. 12 is striking—clear evidence that for Paul although justification comes by faith, and faith itself is a gift, the salvific process does in fact entail a necessary human response. Vs. 13 nicely balances this picture, declaring that it is God who enables, but the human component is simply undeniable: what God enables is precisely human willing and working. Thus the element of demand is not absent from the Pauline passage, just as the element of grace is not absent from Matthew. And a process conceptuality, in stark contrast to theologies based upon narrow renderings of Paul’s predestinarian language, can provide a way of holding divine and human activity together without falling into a doctrine of self-salvation. Grace is always present in the form of Whitehead’s initial aims—God’s enabling lures—but human decision is always necessary in the transition from potentiality to actuality.
The exhortations that bracket 2:6-11—a passage often identified as a Christ-hymn, whether Pauline or pre-Pauline in origin—thus offer great homiletical potential. The christological passage, taken in and of itself, presents a rather more difficult challenge. Process theology necessarily rejects traditional substance christologies, and it certainly invites the re-interpretation of the themes of pre-existence and incarnation. But it by no means renders the latter two inoperative. It should be noted, however, that Philippians 2:6-11 tends more to presuppose these notions than to elaborate them. Its more central interests are in 1.) the theme of Christ’s self-humbling, which is the specific aspect that links it to its context in the letter, and 2.) the universal lordship of Christ. The first of these coalesces easily with the process emphasis upon divine suffering. The latter, however—since this lordship is specifically that of Jesus Christ—is not as easily accommodated to process theology’s insistence that God is at work in all communities of faith. It is nevertheless clear from a process perspective that the God at work in Jesus is in fact the god of all creation.
The theme of Christ’s self-emptying is congenial to the process notions of God’s power as persuasive rather than coercive and of divine suffering. The fit is not quite perfect, since in Philippians the self-emptying is understood as a choice, whereas process thought understands it as constitutive of God’s being. But certainly the passage has homiletical potential along these lines.
Part of the difficulty with the christological passage is that it is a virtual bottomless pit of exegetical problems, often reflected in alternative translations. I will mention three. (1.) A minority of interpreters deny that it actually contains the notion of pre-existence, understanding "form of God" as the equivalent of the image of God in Genesis 1. On this reading, the point is that the historical person Jesus, by humbling himself, reversed Adam’s sin of rebellious pride. (2.) Another debate surrounds the Greek harpagmos in vs. 6: the RSV and NIV translate it ambiguously as "a thing to be grasped" and "something to be grasped" respectively, while the NRSV opts for "something to be exploited." The issue is whether the pre-existent one already had the status of equality with God or whether that status was conferred only after the incarnation, death, and resurrection. (3.) Yet a third controversy surrounds Paul’s introductory injunction in vs. 5: does the apostle counsel the Philippians to have among themselves "the same mind that was in Christ Jesus," as the main text of the NRSV has it, or should be it "the same mind that you have in Christ Jesus," which appears in a footnote as an alternative? The Greek can be read either way.
Fine points such as these seldom make
interesting points of discussion in a sermon, but decisions about them may
not be irrelevant. On the first issue, those who opt for pre-existence
seem to me to have the better case, as does the NRSV rendering of harpagmos
as "something to be exploited." It is difficult to accommodate
7b-8a to a scheme based solely on the human life of Jesus, and Morna
Hooker’s (NIB XI, p. 507) linking of harpagmos to the exaltation
in vss. 9-11 is cogent: "God bestowed on him the status and honor he
chose not to use for his own advantage." I would also favor the NRSV
footnote, "the same mind that you have in Christ Jesus"—the
point being that Paul counsels his readers to manifest the same attitude
toward one another that they have by virtue of their life in Christ. This
does not, however, negate the role that Christ’s obedience plays as an
example.
The
relationships among the readings in Exodus, Matthew, and Philippians are
not as strong or as rich as we find in many lectionary complexes—at
least insofar as I can discern. However, the humility and obedience
counseled in Philippians form a pointed contrast to the rebelliousness of
the people in Exodus and the hard-heartedness of Jesus’ opponents in
Matthew. The mind that Paul wants to see developed among those who are in
Christ might also be characterized as one that is open to the activity of
God, in whatever form it might take—whether a caring presence that
breaks through the perception that we are alone in a wilderness of danger
or a prophetic word such as that of Jesus. And of course the Christian
doctrine of the incarnation in and of itself constitutes a powerful answer
to the despairing cry, "Is the LORD among us or not?
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