The Radical Middle

In Mark 8.15 Jesus cautions his disciples to "beware the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod." This is one of those verses that's positively dense with meaning, but only if the reader understands the background.

On one hand you have the Pharisees, the radicalized religious elite, who advocated the violent overthrow of Rome (or any other foreign oppressor). They were zealots in the tradition of the Hasmonean rebels, who had driven the Selucids out of Israel a couple of centuries before. Much smaller in number than the Saducees, the Pharisees were in many ways the heroes of the Jewish people and so wielded political power disproportionate to their size. You can imagine their reaction to Jesus, who spoke against their policies of exclusion and zealous violence, who insisted that they were accomplishing precisely the opposite of the mission God had intended from the beginning for Israel: to be a light to the nations; to draw the Gentile (yes, even the oppressor) to worship of YHWH, the one true God. The Pharisees were shepherds who had lost their sheep.

On the other side we have Herod (or the Herodians, depending on your translation). Herod was a Jew (Hellenized to a fault, but still a Jew), supposedly descended from the discredited priesthood which had merged with the monarchy many generations before. That was bad enough, but he had also been installed by Rome as a harmless, controllable regent with a viable pedigree. Herod represented everything a good Jew (particularly a Pharisee) despised. He was a morally corrupt and religiously compromised political puppet of the Roman oppressors. Worse still, Herod seems to have considered himself something of a messianic figure, a fact which repelled the Pharisees still further. He even printed his own money, a coin emblazoned with the image of a reed (now does Matt 11.7 and its Lk 7.24 parallel make more sense?). So, we have radical zealotry on one hand and religio-political corruption on the other.

See how helpful the historical-cultural background is? If you understand what's going on, you'll understand that Jesus is teaching about something we talk about a lot in the Vineyard Church: the Radical Middle. He's telling them that neither of those options is acceptable, and that both movements, small as they may have been, would be rejected by God and come to a bad end. Instead, the true people of God were to reject those polarizing options and follow Jesus instead. They were to, "repent and believe the good news (gospel)" (Mk 1.15). So it is with us; we are called to reject both religious elitism and moral corruption. We are called to leave off with our agendas and take Jesus for his. We are to follow the way of love, compassion and inclusion. We are to share in his passion, walking the road of suffering, renewal and hope. We are called to walk a narrow road along the ridgeline, avoiding the chasms of radicalism falling off to either side.

The radical middle is the new counter-culture, an irony which should not be missed. Let anyone with ears to hear listen (Mk. 1.23).

One Obligation

Each of us has one obligation to God: to make the best of the life he gives as it is given. This assumes of course that we are pursuing his will and not simply indulging every whim. If self-centeredness is the rule, then our only obligation is to ourselves, to self-gratification and to making the best of what we find there. That, as C.S. Lewis puts it, is the best description of hell I can think of.

If we profess to live by God's will then we must trust that he has given us each what he intended that we should have today, and that is by definition his best for us. A monk has time, silence and brotherhoood. I have a marriage, a family and a church. There is no use turning aside those gifts and seeking what the monk has; I must find peace, joy and contentment where it lies: in my own circumstances and not another's.

The challenge? Can I find God in the workaday minutiae? Can I experience him in the utterly commonplace? In this my challenge is the same as the monastatic's: consecrate each activity as it comes, accept each gift with a thankful heart and live my vocation as a gift from his hand. It is to will one thing at a time.

Traitors and Porn Stars

In Mark 2.13 Jesus calls Levi to follow him. That wouldn't be particularly interesting but for the fact that Levi was a Jewish tax collector. Jesus was well-known for eating with sinners and tax collectors; it is well attested both biblically (found repeatedly in all three Synoptic Gospels) and in other, extra-biblical sources like Josephus. It's also fairly well-known that in so doing Jesus made the statement that they were his people, equal to him and accepted by him in every sense.

Likewise, it's fairly common knowledge that these were the worst people possible to a 1st century Jew. They were traitors in one case, porn stars on the other. In those two groups you have both a betrayal of the deepest nationalist and religious sensibilities (as if there were a difference at the time) and the lowest sort of moral degradation conceivable; and Jesus accepts them as equals. Certainly that's shocking enough, but in this case Jesus calls Levi to his inner circle, the disciples who would represent the new Israel, who would do by following Christ what Israel did not do under the Law. This is beyond shocking. This is Robert Hanssen, infamous FBI traitor, on the board of elders. This is Jenna Jameson (don't look that up) serving on staff as the Kids' Pastor.

Now with Levi, called to be one of the Twelve, we have someone who by necessity leaves behind his former vocation; he is not both disciple and tax collector at the same time. But then, Jesus called all of the Twelve to leave behind what they were and accept "disciple" as their primary identity. Tax collector or fisherman, traitor or porn star, all are accepted on an equal basis: they recognize Jesus for who he is and then re-organize their priorities around him. It doesn't matter who they are or what they've done.

Follow me. Leave your agenda and take me for mine. That's all Jesus ever asks of anyone.

Mustard Seed Messiah

Matthew 27 is the latter half of the passion narrative. Verses 39-44 tells the story of the way Jesus was derided by many who watched him die. They were Jews of course, who had very specific expectations for a person they would call "Messiah". Jesus didn't meet any of them, and his death by crucifixion verified all of their doubts (don't miss the irony: the crucifixion that they thought was their vindication turned out to be Jesus' vindication, his installment as Messiah).

For a messianic figure, crucifixion was always the end of the road. That's where they always ended up...Jesus wasn't the only one. He was one of many such figures who all ended the same way. In other words, Jesus' humiliating death and the hands of the Pagan oppressors was the indication that Israel would have to wait a little longer for their Messiah.

Of course, that's because their expectations were wrong. When you're looking for a mouse, you're going to ignore every elephant that walks by, no matter how interesting they may be. They expected all of Israel to endure ho peirasmos, "the time of trial", not just one man. They expected all of Israel to experience anastasis, "the resurrection", not just one man. Those were two of the the signs of the return of YHWH to liberate and exalt his faithful people. Israel had no framework for a crucified and resurrected Son of God who would inaugurate a Kingdom that is both now and not yet.

As Jesus warned by way of parable, the Kingdom came in a way that they didn't expect, like a mustard seed or a pinch of yeast. The Kingdom comes in small packages with tremendous potential...in us, to say it another way.

Or maybe in a little church with 60 people in it, in a small suburb in Coastal Georgia...

A Fair Wage

As most of you know already, I'm not a rigid predeterminist. In other words, I don't think that God has predetermined a certain number of people for eternity with him while creating all the rest for eternity in hell for his glory. I've yet to find a good biblical argument for that idea, one that uses the whole biblical witness in context, but the arguments keep coming anyhow. The passages I see pressed into service most often are parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard in Matthew 20, and Romans 9.

Matthew 20.15

"Am I not allowed to do what what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?"

The assertion goes: "Ah ha! See! God is sovereign, choosing to do what he will no matter what our ideas of fairness."

In the parable in Matthew 20, the master goes out and hires multiple groups of laborers, each of which gets the same wage no matter when during the day the master hired him. If the laborer worked all day he got a day's wage. If he worked the last two hours he got a day's wage. People almost always miss a couple of critical details: first, at the end, the all-day laborers aren't asking that the master pay the two-hour laborers less than them; they're asking they the master pay them more than he agreed on for a day's labor. As if that weren't enough, what shocks them more is not the sense of exclusiveness that we draw from the passage, but his radical, unfair inclusiveness. The master doesn't explain his actions, and he doesn't have to. He gave the full-day workers exactly what he told them he would. It's his business if he chooses to do the same with everyone. The Jewish audience was offended at the inclusiveness of Jesus' message. They were the people of the covenant, those YHWH entrusted with Torah; why should anyone else get the same reward?

Romans 9.13

"Jacob I loved

but I have hated Esau."

Romans 9.15

"I will have mercy on whom I have mercy,

and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion."

The assertion usually goes like this: "who are we to argue? If God seems unjust in electing one person over another, then we simply have to accept it. He's God. He can do what he wants."

The passage from Romans is part of a more extended argument by Paul wherein he covers several topics, one of which is Judaism's assumption that they have a special place in the Kingdom of God as God's covenant people, those to whom he entrusted Torah. Paul replies with a resounding "no", to which the response is predictable. They cry loudly and slowly, "that's not fair!" Romans 9 is the response to that. The inclusion of the Gentile on the same basis of faith is not an indication that anything was wrong; indeed it was the point from the beginning. Besides, as God arbitrarily elected Israel, so he has arbitrarily elected the Gentiles in addition now. This is the reality behind the scripture Paul quotes in vss. 13 and 15 (Mal 1.2-3 and Ex 33.19). Jacob was the younger brother. By right he had no claim to the birthright; he even came by it by foul means, but he was God's "elect" as it were. If you read through the rest of Romans 9, 10 and 11 you'll see that Paul maintains this assertion in a more extended way throughout. Yes, the Gentile is on a par with the Jew now, but fear not; God has not forgotten his covenant people.

Note this about both passages: while we want to use both to support exclusive predestination, using them to defend the justice of unconditional election and limited atonement, the actual argument each encounters is that God is unjust because he is more inclusive than the audience wanted him to be. It's the same point we find in Luke 15. The Pharisees are cast in the role of the elder brother, resentful of his father's inclusive, forgiving love. Also note that, while Paul brings the Gentiles into the mix, Jesus really doesn't. He's talking about "good" Jews versus "bad" Jews. He's telling the people who consider themselves "in" that they may very well be "last" while those on the "out" may very well be "first". The sinners and tax collectors are getting in before the really good Jews. Uh oh.

God's love is scandalous. It's unfair. In includes all the wrong people. It searches out and includes those who are most foreign to it. God is wasteful and extravagant (prodigal) in his love, giving it without scruple to the worst of us, saving and transforming every single person regardless of background as they kneel before the cross in faith and humility...and he cares nothing for how that makes the rest of us feel. We'll just have to trust him.

Don't Drink it...

As a pastor one of the things I walk through the most with people is the issue of forgiveness. It's a fact of our fallennes and evidence of the fallen world. We sin against each other all the time, subtly and obviously, consciously and unconsciously. We're always suffering in one way or another, and suffering people are rarely at their best.

The thing is, there's this myth that's propagated in the Christian community. The myth starts at the parable of the Unforgiving Servant (Matt 18.23-35), which is interpreted to mean something like, "See! You *have* to forgive or God won't forgive you." This idea is typically asserted by either the one who has sinned as a way of convincing the sinned-against that he/she *has* to forgive no matter what the internal and external circumstances, or by well-meaning counselors who are ignorant of how people actually work and the whole context of the teaching on forgiveness.

Here's are some facts of life where forgiveness is concerned:

• Forgiveness is a transaction between two people, not a one-sided personal legal fiction.
• Forgiveness is a process culminating in redemption.
• Forgiveness is not for the one who sinned against us; it's God's gift to us, the sinned-against.

Here's how Matthew 18 actually works. It starts with the process in Matthew 18.15-17.

• Go and point out the injury in a clear way that respects the bond between you.
• If that doesn't resolve it, involve a couple more people in a sort of mediation relationship. Sometimes an offense between two people can make it hard to resolve the issue; bringing in another person or two who know and love you both can be critical in overcoming jadedness that keeps people apart.
• If that doesn't work, then more radical action is required. Obviously, in 2010 standing up in front of the entire church and airing dirty laundry isn't appropriate or helpful. That will probably drive you further apart. I think the passage assumes that the person has continued to sin against you, in which case we do what Paul recommends (with this teaching in mind I'm sure) in 1 Cor 6: take it before a spiritual authority, be that a pastor, home group leader or an elder. Importantly, the point is reconciliation, not humiliation or payback.
• If that doesn't work, then the person has clearly chosen a broken relationship with you. You cannot share a forgiveness transaction with a person who is unrepentant. Not even God can do that. Verses 18-20 provide the clue: they are eschatological in nature. The point is that there is a heavenly dimension to earthly actions; what we do here has eternal implications. The unrepentant person now stands liable for judgment by God since he/she has chosen broken relationship with the one he/she has sinned against.

So much for the process. If we assume that that's been done, THEN we proceed to verses 21-22, when Peter asks the question, "how many times should I follow this process?" Jesus answer, whether your bible reads "seventy times seven" or "seventy seven", means "a lot more than you probably want to". Here we come full circle, back to verses 23-35. The key here is the assumption that the process has been followed. You have to follow the logical development of the passage and not jump to conclusions by starting at the end. Jesus is not teaching anyone to forgive an unrepentant person, something that is not possible for any being anywhere.

The whole biblical witness with respect to forgiveness is simply that we should be people who default toward reconciliation and not resentment. When injured our first instinct should be to proceed humbly toward restored relationship, and not fall back into bitterness and grudge holding. We should be people who easily accept a sincere apology and meaningful repentance and not people who set the bar so high that no one will ever get over it, and for whom no bar is ever set so low that we won't trip over it.

After all, if we're expecting something more than a sincere apology and meaningful repentance, we will always be disappointed. We must beware lest in our acrimony we back others into corners from which the only escape is humiliating prostration. We must understand that that kind of behavior is at least as evil and aggressive as the original offense was. Repentance procured under those conditions is about as useful as information gathered by torture. Spiritually, even if you get what you want (an apology) YOU will be liable to God along with the offender. Practically speaking, it's simply ineffective; people backed into corners will say and do things they would normally never say and do because the issue is now not the original injury, but their honor.

New Cloaks and New Wineskins

In Matthew 11.14-17 Jesus answers a question about why his disciples aren't fasting when lots of others are. I know that his answer has to do with a re-working of traditional Jewish expectations about the Messiah and the end of the exile. Jesus is saying that fasting is for those who still consider themselves to be in exile. The further claim, of course, is that the exile is over for those who follow him, that there's a new way of being Israel. Fasting will still have a place, but not the place it used to have, as a commemoration that all was not well, that the exile was not over, that Israel awaited a hope yet to be fulfilled.

On the other hand, a related theme always seems to leap out of this passage at me. The question was about fasting; Jesus answer is about patches and old wine on old, damaged cloaks and old, weak wineskins. Note that in both cases we're talking about normal wear and tear. Nothing unusual here. Cloaks tear in the course of fulfilling their function. Wineskins erode because of the acid content of wine. The point is, this kind of wear and tear is a normal part of life in the kingdom of God and neither patches nor new wine are solutions to the problem. As a matter of fact, they just make the existing problem worse. This is a great example of something I say a lot at my church: Jesus doesn't stop at the symptoms, but goes deep, all the way to the real problem. What's needed is not a patch or new wine, but an entirely new cloak or a brand new wineskin. The old ones are no longer serviceable.

This is what fasting, or any spiritual discipline, is about: getting deeper than the God-eclipsing behavior that is the symptom of the real problem. Spiritual disciplines are all about rejecting patches and new wine, and instead placing ourselves before God to receive new cloaks and new wineskins. This is something God has to do from the inside out; this is not a matter of altering external behavior or simply changing a habit. God must change who we are; he must address the desires that motivate our behavior.

Spiritual disciplines are about solving problems and rejecting temporary fixes. To quote Thomas Merton:

"To desire a spiritual life is, thus, to desire discipline. Otherwise our desire is an illusion...if we are not strict with ourselves, our own flesh will soon deceive us. If we do not command ourselves to pray and do penance at certain definite times, and make up our minds to keep our resolutions in spite of notable inconvenience and difficulty, we will quickly be deluded by our own excuses and let ourselves be led away by weakness and caprice." (pg. 117, Asceticism and Sacrifice, No Man is an Island)