Month: October 2021

Preached at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla. Based on Hebrews 7:18-28; Mark 10:46-52. Podcast linked below. YouTube archive:

https://youtu.be/iEYINTFTadg?t=1822

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A couple weeks ago, I introduced the book of Hebrews. Let me just take a few moments to remind you of some key ideas. Hebrews is not so much a letter to a particular group like the other epistles, but more a rhetorical treatise, perhaps a sermon written out. Its author is unknown. Historically, it was ascribed to Paul, but most scholars now believe it was written by one of Paul’s close associates. In the Middle Ages, it was used to justify anti-Semitism and supersessionism, that is, the idea that Christianity has superseded Judaism. But really, the thrust of the author’s argument is that the heavenly supersedes the earthly. We do what we can to worship God here on earth in the present age, but all the while, Christ worships God in the heavenly Temple and will unify us all into God’s realm in the age to come. Christ is our great high priest, holy and pure, who makes atonement for us so that we may approach the throne of mercy and grace.

Jews have celebrated the Day of Atonement since their escape from Egypt. On the first day of the seventh month, called Rosh Hashana, Jews begin a ten-day time of reflection and repentance. On the tenth day, Yom Kippur, they are reconciled with God. In the Second Temple period, this was the day when the high priest would enter the Holy of Holies. Following the ancient template described in Exodus, the high priest would purify himself. He would then make a sacrifice, and use the blood of the sacrifice to make atonement with God. He would sprinkle the blood on the Ark of the Covenant as a sign and seal of the relationship between God and God’s people.

We have been conditioned to think of the old sacrifices only in terms of sin: to wipe away sin, God demands a blood sacrifice. But in actuality, the old sacrificial system was much more complex and nuanced. There were a number of reasons to offer a sacrifice: sin, guilt, thanksgiving, and fellowship offerings are all described. In some cases, the priest would give a burnt offering, which is to say that the animal or grain would be burned and destroyed completely. That was the case for the Yom Kippur offering, for example. In many cases, though, the offering would be eaten, either by the priest or by the people giving the offering or both.

So what was the point of giving an offering to God, and then taking it back and eating it? Well, the sacrifice was not so much about what was given up, but more about the relationship between God and God’s people. Through the sacrifice, offered to God, the person giving would draw closer to God. I suppose in a sense, it’s like the times when we share a meal together, whether at our old potlucks that have been canceled due to the pandemic or at the First Friday Out gatherings we have resumed. In a sense, we are offering a sacrifice to God, then using it to draw close to God by drawing close to one another. As we enjoy table fellowship together, God is present by the Holy Spirit. The ancient sacrificial system was like one long-running potluck where people would bring the product of their labors in the field, dedicate them to God, and enjoy a closer communion with God and God’s people through the sacrifice.

The sacrificial system was an embodiment of the Law. We know about the Ten Commandments, but by one count, there are 613 commandments in the Torah, that is, the first five books of the Bible. 613—that’s a lot! That’s partly why the author of Hebrews goes on about how the Law could make nothing and nobody perfect. Keeping all 613 commandments perfectly is just about impossible. Jesus said that he came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill the Law. Yet even he flouted the purity laws and broke a lot of the rules about the Sabbath. Instead, he gave us the Great Commandment. When someone in the crowd challenged him, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Sure, there are 613 rules that are specific to ancient Israelite culture and often contradictory, but there are two overarching commandments: love of God and love of neighbor. The rest is just details, that is, what does it mean to love God? What does it mean to love our neighbor? Those questions have challenged God’s people from the days of the ancient Israelites wandering in the wilderness down to today.

Our passage today assures us, though, that if we turn towards God, if we seek God with our hearts, Jesus Christ is there to connect with us. No matter what, if we seek God, we are assured that God’s love will flow back to us. Jesus is able to save completely, for all time, because he always lives to intercede for us. We may mess up, we may fall short of God’s glory, but Jesus is always working on our behalf to connect us with God’s love.

But wait—what about the other half of the Great Commandment? Remember the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” Or as many of us learned it, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Or perhaps the best word to use in that phrase is “sin.” We ask God’s forgiveness of our sins against the first half of the Great Commandment—our failures to love God as we should—while we offer forgiveness to others who sin against the second half.

The ten days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are a time of introspection, reflection, and reconciliation. It is a time for each person to reflect on the way they have wronged their neighbor and to seek forgiveness. God forgives us, which is great, but at the end of the day, a large part of the reason for the Law is so that we can live together, in peace and harmony.

I believe in universal reconciliation. That is, I believe that all of us, every person throughout the world and throughout history, have Jesus on our side, interceding on our behalf, so that one day, we will all enjoy God’s grace, mercy, and love. So what’s the point of being here today? What’s the point of being a Christian in the present age, if we will all enjoy God’s heavenly realm in the age to come? Well, it’s so that we can enjoy that unity, a partial vision of God’s realm, in the here-and-now. We make restitution and reconcile with one another so that we can live in peace and harmony now.

Recently, Jon Gruden was in the news. He was, until recently, the coach of the Las Vegas Raiders. Before that, he worked for the NFL. Some of his emails from the past decade were leaked. They were full of racist, misogynist, and homophobic language attacking the NFL commissioner, the president of the NFL Players Association, and many others in and around the league. Obviously, he’s an idiot. I mean, how can anyone in the 21^st century not know that you shouldn’t put that sort of thing in an email? But more to the point, we are lucky to have a written record, while so often we only have hearsay indicating that someone is racist, misogynist, and homophobic. After the emails came out, Gruden had to step down.

Now, I believe that if he asks God for forgiveness, he will receive it, through the grace of Jesus Christ who intercedes on his behalf. That’s great. But it doesn’t mean that he should get his job back. He cannot lead an organization full of black men while being openly racist. He needs to repent of that sin, and then seek reconciliation with the people he has sinned against.

The author of Hebrews assures us of our ultimate reconciliation. There are two kinds of reconciliation: vertical and horizontal. Jesus assures us of vertical reconciliation. As he intercedes on our behalf, we receive grace and mercy from God. Jesus also assures us of horizontal reconciliation. He said that he would send an Advocate, the Holy Spirit. As the Holy Spirit flows through us, we are connected to each other. God’s love enables us to forgive those who sin against us, so that we can live together as part of God’s family. Our vertical reconciliation, that is, the love flowing down from God, enables our horizontal reconciliation, as that love flows out from us and into each other, this group of worshipers gathered today, the people we serve around the community, and people all around the nation and world who are beloved by God.

In part, the book of Hebrews was written as assurance to people who were shut out of the Temple system. It’s a little unclear whether it was written before or after the destruction of the Temple. If before, then the author was thinking of the people who were too poor or too remote from Jerusalem or too ritually unclean to worship God and enjoy the fellowship of God’s people at the Temple. If after, the author was thinking of everyone, all of God’s people, who had previously turned towards the Temple as the special place where God would dwell on earth, where the high priest could enter the Holy of Holies to achieve reconciliation with God, which was now destroyed. Judaism had entered a time of transition, when it seemed that God’s favor and God’s presence had been removed.

But we are assured that the Temple system, which was finite and exclusionary and doomed to one day end, was merely a reflection of the heavenly worship that continues. What was once bound to a certain group of priests in a particular place is now broken wide open. Jesus is our new high priest who worships continually in the heavenly sanctuary. Jesus welcomes everyone—rich and poor, near and far, every age and race and gender—to his heavenly banquet. While we still put up barriers between ourselves in the present age, all will be welcome at the heavenly banquet in the age to come.

Let’s turn now to Bartimaeus. As Jesus passed out of Jericho, a blind beggar called out to him. Last week, we heard how two of Jesus’s closest friends asked him for power. But Bartimaeus asked simply for mercy. He recognized Jesus as a Son of David, the Messiah, God’s anointed one who had come to share God’s love, and he called out for mercy. Mark writes, “Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’” Bartimaeus gets it. He understands what James and John did not. Jesus came not to achieve or grant power, but to show love and mercy to God’s people. Jesus called Bartimaeus to come to him, and suddenly the crowd changed. They told Bartimaeus that Jesus was calling him, and he responded with joy. He sprang up, abandoned his cloak—probably his only possession—and went to Jesus. Jesus’s only challenge to him was to ask him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus said, “Rabbouni, my teacher, let me see again.” When Jesus heals his sight, Bartimaeus becomes a follower. He is lifted from his old life as an outcast and enjoys the healing, loving, merciful presence of his Messiah.

Let me ask you: When I tell that story, who do you see yourself as? Are you like Bartimaeus, calling on Jesus as your Messiah to heal you and grant you mercy, willing to give up all that you have in order to follow him? Or are you like someone in the crowd, trying to keep everything decent and orderly, shushing those who need to feel God’s saving grace, shutting out those who seem to be unworthy? Or are you like James and John, seeking power and authority in God’s coming reign? I think if we’re honest with ourselves, each one of us has been every character in the story at some point. Susan reminded us last week that we are called not to be served, but to serve. Jesus’s call to Bartimaeus reminds us that when we turn towards God, God responds with love and grace. And it reminds us that those we would seek to exclude as being unworthy are precious to God, loved by God, and welcome in God’s family.

One day, we will all feel God’s eternal loving presence, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us live in that presence now, allowing God’s love to flow through us, to reconcile us with those we have wronged and those who have sinned against us, and welcoming everyone who calls on Jesus to join us in God’s family today. Amen.

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Based on Hebrews 4:12-16. Preached at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla. Unfortunately, video is not available, but the audio (podcast) is linked below.

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I will be preaching three times on the book of Hebrews, so before I begin today, I’d like to give you a little background and perspective on it. It has elements of an epistle, but is structured more like a rhetorical treatise, or perhaps a sermon. Maybe I should just read it straight through as the sermon! Traditionally, it was attributed to Paul, but there are many reasons to doubt that tradition. The early Christian father Origen personally believed that Paul wrote it, but also said, “But who wrote the epistle, in truth God knows.” Most likely, it was written by one of Paul’s close associates, perhaps Apollos, perhaps someone else whose name is lost to history.

The challenge with Hebrews is that it has been used for centuries to support anti-Semitism and supersessionism. The basic argument running through the book is that the temple has been or will be replaced with something better. By the Middle Ages, this was interpreted to mean that Christianity has replaced or superseded Judaism. Our “priest,” who is Jesus, has replaced the former Temple priests. Our covenant has replaced their covenant.

In a recent article in The Christian Century, though, Jesper Svartvik argues that when Hebrews was written, there was no concept of Christianity separate from Judaism. The author, then, could not be arguing that Christianity is better than Judaism. Instead, his argument should be interpreted as one more book written in the stream of apocalyptic messianic eschatology, just like the Gospels, just like Paul’s letters, just like most of the New Testament. I believe I’ve spoken about apocalyptic messianic eschatology before, but briefly, it is the understanding that our Messiah, Jesus, revealed God to us and revealed the new heaven and earth that is to come. The book of Hebrews is not contrasting two different religions, but two different ages. The present age is merely a shadow of the glorious age to come. The temple priests are merely stand-ins for the great high priest that is the Son of God.

So, against that broad perspective, let’s dive in. Today’s reading starts out, “Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” What is the word of God? Not a “what,” but a “who”: Jesus. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” We often describe scripture as the word of God, but the true Word is Jesus Christ, who is revealed to us through the scripture by the power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus is the true Word who searches our hearts.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus sets up a number of contrasts between thoughts and actions. He preached, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not murder.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment. You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Throughout Jesus’s preaching, he spoke of the need to not only act good, but to be good. It is necessary but not sufficient to do good works. One must also have right thoughts, for our external actions reflect the intentions of our hearts.

As I said, the book of Hebrews is a rhetorical treatise in which the author builds an argument. The preceding section, before today’s reading, is about sabbath rest. We are promised a sabbath. We will one day enter into God’s rest. But we must render an account first. Recently, I was talking with my friend Sharon about different worship styles and liturgy and so forth. She is Lutheran and grew up with a traditional service, but then later joined a church with a contemporary service. Contemporary worship is pretty thin on liturgy. I personally like liturgy, but many people my age and younger do not. One piece that is often omitted from a contemporary service is the prayer of confession. The argument is that making people say that they have sinned will make them feel bad, make them feel ashamed. Sharon said that she lobbied hard for her church to include one, and succeeded. In the Reformed tradition, we believe it is essential to confess our sins. The general format that we use in this church follows the Book of Worship. First, we are called to confession. We are reminded that all of us have sinned, all of us fall short of God’s glory. Next, we confess our sins. It is essential that we confess not only our personal sins, but also our corporate sins. We are all connected. We are all part of one body of Christ. If one of us sins, all of us sin. But the third part of the sequence is essential: an assurance of pardon. We confess our sins SO THAT we may be assured that our sins have been forgiven.

There is a psychological aspect to this as well. I remember George talking about that from the perspective of the Roman Catholic confession ritual. There is something freeing about declaring your sins—explicitly naming them, whether aloud or in your heart—and then being told that your sins are forgiven.

Each Sunday, we encounter God’s Word, and it reminds us that we are not perfect. But then we are reminded that we are forgiven, that God’s mercy and grace flows through Jesus and covers us all.

As I said, the preceding section of Hebrews talks about a promised sabbath. The promise will be fulfilled in the age to come. The present age will pass away, and we will be welcomed into God’s eternal sabbath. So why are we here? What’s the point of all of this? Well, one way to think about it is like the original sabbath explanation: God worked for six days, and on the seventh day rested. We have work to do first. This present age is a time of working, testing, and learning. We are weak, but are made strong by the learning of a lifetime.

Jesus, too, was weak. He experienced all of the trials and temptations that we endure, and then some. He was tempted by the possibility of conquering his foes, of embracing violence to establish his earthly kingdom. But he rejected that path. He was made weak like us, but through God’s strength was able to resist temptation. So he knows how hard this life can be. He knows how strong the Adversary is in the present age. He knows that we are all trying to do God’s will, but are so often confronted by no-win situations. He knows the brokenness of this world.

The word in verse 12 that we translate “able to judge” is kritikos, the Greek word from which we get “critic.” Often when we hear the words “judge” and “critic” we have very negative connotations. We think about a judge who sits in a court condemning the guilty. We think about the critic who points out all of our flaws. But maybe we should think of this concept more like discernment. Think about a judge at district or state music festivals—yes, they point out flaws, but also good things, and they give the performer a grade. Or an art critic: their job is not so much to tell us what’s wrong with a piece of art or to rank artistic expressions, but to help us see what the artist intends and to show connections between a particular piece of art and the larger artistic tradition or its commentary on society.

Or perhaps we can think about a teacher. I sit in judgment of my students. At the end of the semester, I give them grades. But I don’t just sit back and let them succeed or fail on their own skills. My job is to teach them. I explain concepts to them, give them opportunities to practice with the concepts, and give them feedback on their performance. The semester is filled with formative assessments. A formative assessment is one that has little or no impact on grades but allows the students to determine how well they understand. I assign homework each week that, in total, amounts to 10% of the semester’s grade, and I give half credit for just completing the work. The other half of the credit is given for accuracy, which is intended to encourage students to actually try. Each week, I have a LEAD session, which is a time when the students are all working on the homework together and I’m present to answer questions, correct misconceptions, and help them understand the material I’m trying to teach. Maybe a quarter or a third of the students come to the LEAD sessions.

In the same way, we encounter God’s Word each week and then spend the week trying to apply it. As we struggle with it, the Holy Spirit is there to nudge us in the right direction, if we are willing to listen. God is ready to teach us, to show us what we have done well and poorly, to grade our progress towards full membership in God’s kingdom. All we need to do is turn towards God to receive that instruction. Sometimes it’s hard, just like getting a low grade on homework is hard, but challenging words from God make us better and stronger people, more able to resist the Adversary, more confident members of Christ’s body.

OK, that’s formative assessment. The other type of assessment is summative. That’s the grade I give my students on an exam or at the end of the course. Throughout the semester, I remind students that I am a kind and generous person, and some of them believe it. My job, though, is to make sure that they have learned enough to be successful in their careers, so I need to give good and bad grades based on their performance. And here’s where the analogy breaks down.

Jesus is indeed the word of God, living and active, able to judge our thoughts and intentions, before whom no creature is hidden but is laid bare, and to whom we must render an account. BUT, he is our great high priest. The job of a priest is to speak to God on behalf of the people and to obtain the people’s forgiveness. Jesus is our great high priest who sits on the throne of grace and mercy.

During this COVID pandemic, there were lots of policies put in place to accommodate students. That first semester, spring 2020, was a mess. Students at many colleges were given the option of changing from a letter grade to pass/fail, as an acknowledgment that the semester was really hard due to circumstances beyond their control. In the same way, Jesus knows that life is hard. He was tested just as we are. So at the end of the day, we are given a grade, but instead of a letter grade, we get a pass/fail grade. And by the mercy and grace of our great high priest, we all pass.

I’m reminded of another test that I witnessed. When a student completes their master’s thesis, a three-person committee sits in judgment of it. The student presents their work, and the committee members probe it. This one student had someone on their committee who started asking questions on about the third slide of the presentation. As the defense went on, the questions became increasingly probing and aggressive. It was brutal. After the presentation, the committee deliberates in private. The professor who had asked all of the probing, aggressive questions simply said, “Great work!” The student passed with no concerns.

Sometimes our life of faith is like that. We are challenged daily, even minute by minute, to live up to our calling. We are confronted by people we struggle to love. We are criticized for our beliefs. We are scared to proclaim the Gospel. We are tempted to break every commandment in the Bible, and give in more often than we would like to admit. We are weak. But we have this assurance: we have Jesus as our great high priest, who was tested as we are, ready to advocate on our behalf. And so, “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Amen.

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