August 10 , 2008 Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Proper 14 Commentary by Bruce G. Epperly

See also: [2005] [2002]

1 Kings 19:9-18
Psalm 85:8-13
Romans 10:5-15
Matthew 14:22-33

Today’s passages challenge preachers on three fronts – morality, message, and miracle. The Genesis passage raises a variety of moral issues as it describes the rivalries that can destroy a family and the extent to which siblings may go either to undermine or save a brother or sister. The narrative clearly notes that Jacob has created a gulf between his sons by his clear preference of his youngest son, Joseph. While Joseph is obviously an intelligent young person, attuned to the world of dreams and spirits, he adds to the alienation by sharing his dream of dominance and, no doubt, acting the role of the favored son. Jacob and Joseph unconsciously perpetuate the family schism that characterized Jacob’s relationship with his own brother Esau.

Pushed to the breaking point in this dysfunctional family, Joseph’s brothers finally take matters into their own hands. They conspire to kill him, but are stopped by Ruben’s intercessions. They choose the lesser evil, suggested by Rueben, of throwing Joseph into  a pit, perhaps hoping to avoid shedding blood themselves or imagining that Joseph may be taken into captivity by a wandering caravan. The narrative indicates that Rueben chooses this course of action in hope that he can rescue Joseph and return him safely home to his family. Ruben risks further alienation in the family by his subterfuge.

When one such nomadic band appears on the horizon, Judah proposes that they sell Joseph into captivity and then carries out his plan by selling his brother to some traveling Ishmaelites. At this point, the lectionary readings end. But, I suggest that the perceptive preacher “creatively transform” today’s lectionary reading by adding either verses 29-30 or 29-36 in order describe in greater detail the family dynamics. On the one hand, Rueben mourns; he has done the best he can, but, he presumes, his brother is lost forever. On the other hand, the longer passage describes Jacob’s grief and its impact on the remaining siblings. Though they are responsible for their father’s grief, they seek the best they can to comfort him and restore order to the family. This passage has Edwin Friedman’s family and congregational systems theory written all over it!

Some pastors will be tempted to avoid this passage altogether. At first glance, there are no heroes; each character’s alienation leads to violence and objectification. There is little grace and no gospel in this passage or even a hint of divine inspiration or guidance, if we take the story at face value. But, if we look more deeply, we may discover ourselves and God in the story.

Joseph’s brothers are hardly exemplars of the morality we seek to embody. But, they are realistic reflections of decisions that persons, congregations, and governments constantly make – decisions that involve compromise and choosing the lesser evil, decisions in which one form of alienation or violence is substituted for what is perceived as a worse form of alienation or violence. While their behavior is reprehensible by the “ideal” standards of Christian morality, we must admit that our own current corporate or institutional behavior may be judged morally reprehensible by our successors.

In many ways, Rueben is the hero of the story. He truly loves Joseph, but realizes that if he proposals amnesty and reconciliation, his brothers will likely kill Joseph. After persuading them to spare Joseph’s life, he proposes an alternative – “shed no blood; throw him in this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him.” Even Judah goes along with Rueben, and eventually proposes the sale of Joseph to the Ishmaelites. The options are slavery or fratricide, and the brothers choose the lesser evil. Perhaps, the “true” son of Jacob the trickster is Rueben who hopes that his “covert” operation will save Joseph’s life.

In describing God’s presence in our lives in terms of the “initial aim,” or vision of possibilities in each moment of experience, the philosopher Alfred North Whitehead notes, that “the initial aim is the best [possibility] for that impasse. But if the best be bad, then the ruthlessness of God can be personified as Ate, the goddess of mischief. The chaff is burned.” (Process and Reality: Corrected Edition, 245)  Could it be that God was present in this situation seeking an alternative to bloodshed? Given the brothers’ temptation to kill Joseph, Rueben’s intercession and their acquiescence may have been the best for that particular relational impasse.

While progressive and process theologians identify God as the source of beauty, order, and goodness, aiming at abundant life, such images of divine purpose must reckon with the reality of our less than optimal choices. If God is omnipresent, working in every moment of life to achieve the highest possibilities of beauty, order, and creativity, given the concrete world, then divine action must at times adapt itself to the painful, divisive, and violent realities of our lives. Perhaps in this encounter, the divine whisper persisted within their feeling tones in terms of realistic, although not ideal, forms of reconciliation, “let him live; let him live; let him live.” And, the brothers listened!

An omnipresent and omniactive God is present in the messiness of the world – in the world of cancer cells, warring tribes, war against terrorism, downsizing, and conflict resolution. We must, accordingly, look for God in the less than optimal choices we make as well as the selfless and sacrificial quest for justice and beauty. Even the quest for justice, peace, and environmental survival often involves choices that will be perceived as less than optimal by decision-makers and painful by those who must alter their lives in the realization of a greater good. We are not only “guilty bystanders,” as Thomas Merton suggests, but also guilty actors in times of difficult decision-making. While we must always seek the “ideal,” we must mediate God’s care to concrete and messy corporate and interpersonal situations.

Perhaps the gospel here is to be found in the invitation to keep looking for ways to pursue the quest for justice, peace, and environmental survival that take into account the overall impact of our decisions. Decisions must be made and they cut off possibilities for our neighbors and ourselves, but, in listening to God’s vision for particular situations, we discover ways to remediate the pain we cause as well as to promote reconciliation with those who are hurt or alienated by our actions. In the church, we are challenged to make good decisions, according to our understanding of God’s reign, but also seek reconciliation with those who are hurt by our “just” decisions regarding personnel in the denomination’s national office, marriage equality, choosing to be an open and affirming or welcoming congregation, or going green in church and in community. In the end, we must listen for God’s presence in the relational ecologies in which we live as we seek wholeness for those who are initially negatively affected by our decisions. In the spirit of last week’s lectionary, we must, like Jacob, wrestle at our own streams of Jabbok as we seek to embody the “best for the impasse” in terms of complex moral decisions we must face.

Paul’s letter to the Romans invites us to consider our message. Who is going to proclaim the good news of Christ? While we may not proclaim the gospel as antidote to “hell-fire and brimstone,” we are called to present a message of salvation and wholeness that will encompass persons in this life and the next. Even if we are universalists in terms of the scope of salvation and revelation, we are still obliged to share the good news of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. But, how do we share the good news in a pluralistic, post-modern age?” God wants to “save” everyone, but God needs our partnership in the process of healing, wholeness, and salvation of persons and institutions with whom we relate. This passage calls us to let go of our evangelistic complacency and proclaim good news of grace, healing, and salvation that transforms the quality of persons’ lives in this life and quite possibly the next.

This passage is troubling to many mainstream and progressive Christians insofar as it invites us to share our faith with others and to take risks both in sharing and living out the gospel in just and hospitable ways. “Evangelism” is a problematic word in most mainline and progressive churches. We know what we don’t like about evangelism, but we have few affirmative visions or practices of sharing good news. Further, most of us have not found a viable option to the traditional heaven-hell inspiration for evangelism. “If there is no hell to fear and everyone is eventually saved, and if there is truth and salvation in other faiths, why tell the gospel story at all, except for church growth and survival?” critiques ask universalist Christians.

This passage challenges us to image new ways of proclaiming the good news based on God’s vision of love, healing, and possibility. Surely, the world needs the good news of God’s “subversive hospitality” and healing touch. The challenge is to be bold both in our sharing and our commitment to become God’s partners in creating churches that truly mediate grace, justice, and healing.

The preacher may remind the congregation of occasions where they have heard the good news in life-transforming ways. Who has shared the word of grace and healing with you? How was it shared? Surely in a pluralistic age, we need to share our good news, but we also need to listen to the concrete realities and the faith experiences of those to whom we share our message.

The gospel story is equally troubling for preachers, still imprisoned by the Enlightenment world view and its denial of the miraculous. We can easily preach about “fear and focus” and the importance of “keeping our eyes upon Jesus.” While these are worthy sermon themes, I would invite the preacher to ponder the nature of the miraculous as described in this story and throughout the gospels. Are there deeper laws of nature than those with which we are most familiar? Can the omniactive and omnipresent God be present in dramatic acts of transformation that appear to be quantum leaps beyond what we might otherwise expect? Is God’s activity in the world uniform or variable? Are there moments in the interplay of divine call and human response which enable bursts of power or unexpected feats of healing or transformation to occur? Our wrestling with these questions may call us to choose between two images of divine activity, describe by the words “supernatural” and “natural.”

We cannot limit either our own or God’s abilities to our current scientific or theological world view. Our vision of the world, both personally and theologically, is usually too small to contain God’s vision for ourselves or the future. Indeed, the world revealed by scientists and medical researchers today opens the door for miraculous events as revelations of deeper, but natural, energies within our lives that promote acts of healing, courage, and transformation. We can align ourselves with God’s vision for wholeness and expect great things from ourselves, our churches, and God. In so doing, we may discover that the “natural” is far more mysterious and lively than we had imagined!

Marjorie Suchocki speaks of God’s whispered word, which is brought to awareness through worship and preaching. God is always present in the sighs too deep for words and when we attend to them, remarkable things occur. Peter’s focus on Jesus – like the hearing of gospel, described in Paul’s Letter to the Romans – enables him to tap into unexpected divine energies that may, in fact, enable him to “walk on water.”

Perhaps, some of you remember the seminars in “fire walking” that were popular in the 60’s and 70’s. While walking across smoldering coals without being burned can be explained scientifically, the process ultimately involves trust and training. Trust that we can walk the fiery path and training to focus on our minds on the journey rather than our fears. When Peter focused, he could walk on water. When we focus on God through spiritual practices, greater energies are revealed in our lives; we can experience God’s sighs too deep for words and align ourselves with God’s aim for the moment.

While the gospel passage does not invite us to supernatural explanations or a linear connection between faith and the miraculous, it invites us to explore the role of faith in awakening us to deeper levels of reality and the power that goes with such experiences. Faith trusts that God is with us and that we can expect more of God and also more of ourselves in living out our role as God’s partners in healing and bringing beauty to the world. Preachers must ask themselves and their congregations, “what would happen if we truly trusted God to transform our lives, ministries, and congregations? Do the limits we place on divine activity block God’s power in our lives?” Such power is not a violation of the laws of nature, but a revelation of what happens in the dynamic call and response of divine inspiration and human trust.

 

Bruce Epperly is professor of practical theology and director of continuing education at Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is author of fifteen books, including a response to The Purpose Driven Life, the forthcoming Holy Adventure: Forty-One Days of Audacious Living (Upper Room Press).

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