In the gospel lesson this week, Jesus asks the disciples, "Who do you say that am?" I'm sure that it is a result of having to face hard questions last week about whether or not Jesus could be wrong, but this conjures up images for me of times in my life when I've felt insecure and unsure of myself. To my closest friends I might ask, "What do you think I'm like, really?" or, more likely, "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?" There are moments in our lives when we just need some extra reassurance that we really are okay.

Is that what was happening with Jesus? I don't think there are any scholars who would go with me on this one. And, to be honest, I'm not real sure I can either. But, I do like the question. I do appreciate considering a time in the life of Jesus when he had to look at Peter and say, "You think I'm doing this right, don't you?" Of course, he began with what all the others had to say about who the "Son of Man" is. But, just as quickly as they answer, he turns it on them, "But what about you?"

Is this a test of their own faith or an identity crisis for which Jesus needs some comfort and reassurance? Whatever it is, Peter is quick to answer. Isn't he always? "You are the Messiah, of course!" And, this seems to do the trick. For whatever it was that Jesus was looking, he got it and turns his attention away from himself and back to his followers - Peter, in particular, the rock.

There is a word for us as well. "Whatever you bind on earth, bound in heaven. Whatever you loose on earth, loose in heaven. Here, take these. They are the keys to the kingdom." And, so our own identity crisis begins.

"How can that be?" "How could God allow that kind of power to rest with humans?" "Who am I to bind or loose anything on earth, much less in heaven?"

In the Romans passage, Paul reminds us of who we are. We are "living sacrifices" with "gifts that differ according to the grace given to us." Just in case you forget who you are or what you are capable of through the power of the Holy Spirit, these new testament texts remind you. Who are you to have that power? Who are you to loose or bind on earth and in heaven? You are the very child of God, disciple of Jesus Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit.

Isaiah reminds us too. "Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug." You are a child of Abraham and Sarah and just in case you have forgotten, just in case you are having an identity crisis, to be a child of those two means you are the child of the very living God.

Oh dear, we find ourselves this week at that gospel text from Matthew when Jesus calls a woman a dog. If you are a regular reader, you will notice that I'm a bit late this week with this reflection. That first sentence is why. Check out all the great resources at The Text This Week for many more scholarly and detailed exegesis of that text. Honestly, it just confuses me. This is a feeling I am becoming more and more comfortable with, by the way, because I feel it quite often.

If you explore those scholars, you will find varying theories of what is happening in the text. It could be that Jesus was acting out his parable on this particular occasion - behaving in such a way as if to say, "Did you see that? Don't do what I just did!" Others will say that Jesus never really called the woman a dog, that it is so uncharacteristic that it was clearly added by someone else along the way to make a point - the point of which seems lost on all of us! Some would say that he was testing her faith, giving her room to prove how much she believed he could help her daughter. And, others will applaud the woman and her boldness saying that Jesus learned a lesson from her, that Jesus was actually wrong and changed his mind because of what she had to say. Oh dear, indeed!

As confused as I am by the actions of Jesus in the Matthew text, I have to be honest and say that Joseph's actions in the Genesis passage confuse me too. It also makes me start singing (only in my head) that 1979 Peaches and Herb song, Reunited. (I feel it important to point out that I was only 7 years old then!) "Reunited and it feels so good . . ." But, why would it feel good to Joseph to be reunited with the brothers who had wanted him dead and sold him into slavery? I get that he wanted to see his father again. I get that their arrival in Egypt gave him hope that Jacob was still living and that he would have a chance to see him again before his father died. But, Joseph actually seems happy to see the brothers too. This confuses me. He weeps as he hugs on them. He invites them to move nearby where he can take care of them. He even takes time to tell them the ways in which God had worked through the pain and heartache of his life to bring about good, in fact, to save others. I can understand most of this, but the way in which he welcomes them back without question, without apologies, without explanations - it just confuses me because I can't imagine being that forgiving.

Joseph was the son of Jacob. Jacob's name was changed to Israel in his encounter at the river in the middle of the night. Upon refusing to help the woman in need, Jesus replies by saying, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But, Joseph, the son of Israel had reached out to Pharaoh and the Egyptians and through his guidance he was saving them. Jesus points out that what comes out of our mouths is more important than what goes in, but almost immediately slips into name calling when an outsider asks him for help. Whether we choose to believe that it was Jesus or the woman doing the teaching here, what happened was a reunion of sorts. A reunion that, like Joseph's with his brothers, included forgiveness and a bringing together of people from varied backgrounds. "Reunited and it feels so good . . ."

Psalm 33 speaks about living together in unity. Isaiah touches upon salvation and deliverance being offered to all people. Psalm 67 asserts that all people will be judged the same and that God blesses us all. And, then there's Paul.

In Romans 11, Paul throws me for another loop because it seems like he just might be saying that we are sinful people, unable to keep from sinning, so that God has the opportunity to prove how good and forgiving God is. Hold up a minute! I can't quite go there, Paul.

In the same way that I find myself shaky on Joseph's explanation that God had the whole rotten mess of his life up to that point planned out so that he could be brought to the position of power that he finds himself in now, I can't quite fully agree that we are in bondage to sin simply to allow a way for God to show off how forgiving and loving God can be. What I can believe is that God is forgiving and loving and that God works to reunite us with God's self and the community of faith around us.

God transforms horror into honor. God uses forgiveness to create a future. God reunites us with loved ones - and not-so-loved ones - in order to reclaim what was God's all along. "Reunited and it feels so good . . ."

This Week's Artwork
(in order of appearance in reflection)
Divisions by John Shorb
The Canaanite Woman by Jean Colombe
Forgive and Forget by Jim LePage
Joseph Recognized by His Brothers by Peter von Cornelius
Come Together by Cobalt



Just in case you are curious about the song mentioned . . .

Okay, there is no way around this. When I read this week's gospel - the well-known story of Jesus walking on the water - I heard in my head, "There is no spoon." The Matrix (the first one) is among my top-five-all-time-favorite movies. Any preacher worth her salt would find all kinds of illustrations within the 136 minute 1999 blockbuster film. However, I don't recall ever making a connection between the main character Neo and Jesus walking on water. And yet, for some reason this one time, today, reading through the passage from Matthew 14, as I read about Jesus walking out toward the boat that had left him behind on the shore, I find myself thinking, "There is no spoon."

You can click here to view a YouTube clip from The Matrix. Basically, the gist is this - Neo has been awakened into the reality that the reality he has always known doesn't even exist. He is being taught by a child in this scene that if you realize there isn't a spoon to begin with, you can bend it, bend your own mind, bend your own existence to do whatever you need to do. If the spoon doesn't even exist, you can make it do whatever you like.

What in the world does this have to do with Jesus walking on the water? That is the question I found myself asking Holy Spirit. Here is what I can make out so far. In some mysterious way that I could never find words to explain, we believers live with one foot in this world and one foot in the Kingdom of God. Some have used the analogy of having bifocals on, able to see both at the same time. C.S. Lewis writes about that Kingdom world being "more real" than this one. Jesus not only teaches us to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, he not only provides the example for living in this world taking care of others and following The Way, but he also shows us what is really real.

There is nothing in the text to suggest that he hesitated for a moment. He didn't stand on the bank trying to figure out the best way to get back to his boys. He just walked on the water. If the turbulent water is part of this world, then Jesus had no doubt of what was real. Walking on the water was no problem - if there is no water, then you can do whatever you need to with it.

Now, before any of you readers start to get into a fit of rage because I seem to be spouting a gnosticistic heresy, let me pull back for just a moment. I do not deny that the water, the lake, the boat, Jesus' feet, clothes, hair, etc. were all very real. I'm only sharing what popped into my head as I read the text, "There is no spoon." There is a reality that is even more real than the waves that washed over Peter and scared him out of his wits. There is a reality that Jesus never questioned, a reality that made it possible for him to see his friends, know he needed to get to them, and not allow even a lake to stop him.

Peter saw that reality for just a moment, but then the thought of something even more real scared him right back into seeing with only one part of those bifocals. It is the fact that Jesus called Peter out of the boat that amazes me. That Jesus knew there was no spoon is all well and good - HE IS JESUS! But, what his invitation to Peter says to me is that each one of us can see both realities at the same time too. We allow the storms on the lake to stop us when we just don't have to, when we could see beyond it, and simply walk right on top of it.

Though this sounds like a call for a simplistic faith, it is not. There is nothing simple about stepping out into the crashing waves and sometimes getting used to those new bifocals can make you feel all kinds of yuck! Following Jesus into a world that is even more real than this one is not simple. His invitation to Peter and Peter's partial success just proves to us that it is possible.

If you choose to focus on the Genesis passage this week, you will find yourself in the company of a guy I wouldn't want to have in my family. Jacob has fought to be first from the womb, tricked his brother, lied to his father, and ran away like a coward to avoid Esau's wrath. On the night mentioned in the passage, he is waiting it out alone because he has sent all of his loved ones on with bribes for Esau in the hopes that he will be forgiven for all his mischief. And, it is this night that he encounters a stranger that most preachers will say was God, or at least some representative of God. Is it any wonder that Jacob held on for dear life asking for a blessing? He had been doing that since before birth.

I fell in love with this story when I was a student at Memphis Theological Seminary. I'm sure I was writing an exegetical paper which led me to delve into the details of the story in a way that I had never done before. It wasn't the wrestling that stayed with me. It wasn't the blessing received. It wasn't even the name-change in the end. What sticks with me to this day and keeps me interested in this story is that it is about this arrogant man, Jacob, who does not walk, but limps away from the encounter with God. Imagine this guy who had so very much, some of which he received through deceitful ways, returning to the family he had run from, not walking, but limping, broken, humbled, and changed - Israel, "for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed."

The disciples were humbled when Jesus answered their call to send the people out for food. In the Matthew text this week, the crowd was gathered listening to the preaching. The disciples are worn slap out and, I imagine, hungry themselves. "Hey boss. These folks need to eat. Could you hold off on telling any more stories and send them back to town where they can get a good meal?" And, Jesus instead of agreeing, says "Yeah, you are right. They need to eat. So, guess what. You feed them! Don't expect others to do that for you. Take care of it. Get to cooking."

Most of us know the rest of the story. There are many theories as to what happened on that hill (in my mind's eye I see a hill!). Did Jesus take two fish and five loaves and miraculously turn them into enough to feed over 5000 people? Did the generosity of a few inspire many to pull out their own lunches to share with their neighbors? Either way, it was a miracle and the disciples didn't get the answer they expected, but they did receive a blessing. They limped away from the encounter humbled by the fact that they did not act with compassion in the first place.




I fell in love with the story of Jacob on the banks of the Penuel because I became amazed that God's story includes examples of arrogant and tricky people who recognize the need to fight for a blessing from God. I fell in love with the idea that God provides that blessing, but it doesn't mean we will go skipping away fancy free. Often times, we are left limping, humbled, blessed, but broken - in other words, we are left as Israel - those that strive with God.

At church Sunday, a member of the congregation asked me if I was tired of coming up with sermons about seeds. This makes me wonder if he is tired of hearing about seeds! This Sunday's lectionary text is the final in a series of three weeks covering parables of Jesus involving planting seed. This week has Jesus giving what others have called a "rapid fire" parable feast. The kingdom of heaven is like . . . a mustard seed, yeast, hidden treasure, fine pearls, and a net full of fish. In other words, the kingdom of heaven is hidden, yet glorious; unexpected, yet all-encompassing; unseen, but always present.

The same church member also took issue with my claim that Jesus was a city boy who knew nothing about farming. He said it makes more sense that Jesus knew exactly what he was talking about, but pretending to know nothing about farming. He is probably right. Jesus was most likely trying to shock everyone. I wonder how much we take these parables for granted. If you are reading this, then you likely read other reflections in which the same point is made - these are shocking details in the parables. For those in the pews, who are there week in and week out, how shocking do they seem these days? As preachers, we need to recapture that for our listeners. The first hearers of the parables would have laughed out loud at the thought of allowing mustard weed to grow and birds to nest in it; one scholar compares it to Kudzu in the southeast. And, we think we understand the use of yeast as comparison for the hidden kingdom, but this was work kept only for women.

For this Jewish rabbi to use "woman's work" as an example for the kingdom of heaven would have been laughable at the least and riot-producing at the most. We could go on evaluating each parable and the ways in which each is shocking - I mean a guy who finds a treasure in someone else's field, then hides it and buys the field? - shocking!

Are the lectionary creators trying to tell us something about being shocking this week? The Genesis passage is that crazy story of Laban tricking the trickster, Jacob, into "going in to" Leah, his eldest daughter instead of Rachel, the younger daughter whom Jacob loved. Is it a story about perseverance, Jacob working seven additional years, making a total of fourteen waiting for the love of his life to be presented to him? Is it a story that should create in us dis-ease about how women were (and are) treated like property? Is it a story about justice where Jacob finally feels the pain of his own brother, Esau, and his father after tricking them out of the birthright that was not rightfully his?

And, what about Paul's letter to the Romans? Is there anything shocking to be found in this text? How about that part that says "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." Anyone who has been fired by a church with no explanation knows this is just not true. Cancer patients reading their Bibles daily find this sentence shocking. Children who have lost their parents due to a stranger driving drunk don't hang this up on the fridge. For our congregations' sakes, we have to be willing to ask the question for them, "Really? Am I really supposed to believe that all things work for good despite all the evidence to the contrary?"

The ending of the Romans text is that beautiful passage about nothing being able to separate us from the love of God. No question is off limits. No shocking detail is too much. No amount of trickery keeps us from the kingdom of heaven indefinitely. As Christians, we must be able to see what is hidden among us. We must be willing to share the shocking details of God's kingdom that is here and now. In so doing, we point others toward the shocking kingdom of heaven and do our part to reveal it on the earth.

This Week's Art
Mustard + Parable found at Maria Laura's Blog
The Hidden Treasure by jesusmafa.com
The Leaven by Sir John Everett Millais
A Little Leaven by James B. Janknegt
The Kingdom of Heaven is Like by Kathie Luther
Treasurefield #2: Sell Everything by James B. Janknegt
The Peaceable Kingdom by Edward Hicks

Genesis 25: 19-34 or Isaiah 55:10-13

Psalm 119:105-112 or Psalm 65:(1-8), 9-13

Roots mean something. It is a common analogy that we use, isn't it? In order to grow strong and bear much fruit, we have to have deep roots. That is why it is shocking when Esau is willing to give up his birthright for a bowl of stew. In a way, Jacob convinces Esau that he doesn't need to worry about any roots whatsoever, that the here and now is what matters. And, because his belly was grumbling, Esau didn't need too much to be convinced. "Cut me off from my family and my inheritance. I don't care as long as my desires are filled immediately."

As a person who was raised in a society of immediate gratification supported by drive-through windows, microwaves, and Google, I have to admit that I struggle with this myself. Allowing time for an idea to grow and mature doesn't come easily for me. So what are we Gen Xers (and our friends on either side of our generation) supposed to do with our faith? How are we to "put down roots" in the good soil so that our faith will grow strong and produce good fruit when we haven't learned the patience necessary for gardening?

I love the parable of the sower from Matthew because Jesus felt it was so important that he actually explains it after telling the story. I do imagine him so fed up with folks just not getting it that once he looked in their faces and saw that once again they had no clue what he was talking about, he decided to say, "Okay, let's take this slowly. Here is what I meant by that."

And, what he says that he meant was that we have to allow the Word to fall deep within us in order for our lives to be all that God dreams they can be. We have to have roots, deep roots of the Word of God and the work of the Holy Spirit in order to bear the fruit that will feed God's children. When we expect our faith to come in a tidy cardboard box with a gender specific toy delivered to us immediately and asking very little of us in return, then we can expect to wither on the vine. Developing roots takes time. It requires patience. And, it will produce more than we could ever imagine.