Sunday, July 29, 2018

Phil Kniss: What we can learn from the bread baskets

“God’s Bread Basket: Enough and then some”
2 Kings 4:42-44; John 6:5-14; Ephesians 3:14-21

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If ever there was a time to be reminded of the theology of abundance,
now is that time.

In a time when suffering is rampant around the world,
when the gap between rich and poor keeps getting wider,
when earth’s resources
are disrespected and exploited more than ever,
and climate change threatens life as we know it,
when more and more people around the world
are refugees with little hope of returning home,
when violence and racism and fear of the foreigner
is robbing more and more people of their human dignity,
when the political good will of our society is running on empty,
when churches everywhere, and their institutions,
struggle with declining numbers and financial support.

This is the time to talk about the biblical theology of abundance.

Not to mention . . . we’re in the middle of a capital campaign
trying to raise lots of money from a limited pool.
Whoops—I guess I just mentioned it, didn’t I?
Still, this is a great time to talk about the theology of abundance.
And so I will.
Today, as we celebrate summer,
and the peak of fruitfulness in our gardens,
I bring you a sermon on God’s abundant provisions,
God’s overflowing bread basket.

Now I just ran down a long list of various forms of scarcity—
material, social, political, environmental, financial.
So I will also speak of abundance in its various forms.
I won’t just talk about food and gardens.
I won’t just dwell on material and financial abundance.
I’m not gonna go all . . . Joel Osteen on you.

To put it kindly, Osteen and prosperity gospel preachers like him,
are trying to sell America a pack of theological baloney.
It’s a gross distortion of the good news
to claim that any one of God’s children,
who only has enough desire, or enough faith,
or the right prayer formula,
or are willing to invest some “seed money”
into the right ministry,
can, by so doing, tap into the material wealth and health
and personal prosperity that God has for you, personally.
That’s theological baloney.

It’s a message that sells pretty well, especially in desperate times.
People like to hear it.
But it’s untrue.
It’s an observable fact that God does not bring prosperity
on everyone who earns it by exhibiting enough faith.
When it comes to having deep faith and unshakable trust in God,
we affluent middle class Americans are put to shame,
by the faith of some of the poorest and most deprived
of our human family.

But having said that,
we middle-class American Christians, and all people of the Book,
simply must accept the foundational biblical assumption
that God is a generous God, abundant in every good thing,
and desires all creation to experience that same abundance.
That is also unarguable, from a biblical standpoint.

But we who are concerned about social and economic justice
sometimes act a little nervous about that idea.
We downplay our call to live in God’s abundance.
But we shouldn’t.

The Bible is one long story of God’s abundance,
being shared with humankind.
It starts in Genesis,
where God fills the universe with beauty and abundance:
fills the earth with plants of every kind,
swarms of living creatures of every kind,
and tells them, “Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth.”
And God pronounces all this abundance “good” . . . “very good.”

In Deuteronomy, God promises to make his people
“abundantly prosperous in all your undertakings,
in the fruit of your body,
in the fruit of your livestock,
and in the fruit of your soil.”

The psalms sing of God’s
abundant mercy
abundant righteousness
abundant steadfast love
abundant goodness . . .
30 references to God’s abundance in the Psalms alone,
including this refrain,
“we feast on the abundance of your house.”

In the Gospels, Jesus says he came that we might have life,
and have it abundantly.
And we have stories like today’s Gospel reading,
the feeding of the 5,000,
and elsewhere the feeding of the 4,000,
and turning huge vats of water into wine,
and need I mention resurrection—
turning death into life?

In the epistles,
Paul is profuse in his praise of God’s abundance.
In Ephesians 1, Paul proclaims Christ as the
“fullness of him who fills all in all.”
Then in Ephesians 3, which we read today,
he takes it a step further, to say we can be
“be filled with all the fullness of God.”

And it ends in Revelation,
with a picture of the glorious glittering city of God,
where there is no shortage of anything
good and right and beautiful.

We simply cannot do a full reading of our scriptures
and conclude anything . . . except,
God is a God of abundance
and generosity beyond measure.

So where is our hang-up?
How can we be so skeptical about abundance?
How can we, God’s people, so often become immobilized with fear
that there isn’t enough to go around?
that the universe is ruled by a principle of scarcity?
But then . . . in our defense, we look around and see real scarcity.
Many of God’s people suffer greatly,
because of actual extreme scarcity.
They lack what they need for a flourishing life.

Walter Brueggemann has some thought-provoking things
to say about this.
He says that as Christians, our lives are torn between
on the one hand, the attractive good news of God’s abundance,
and on the other hand, the power of our belief in scarcity—
a belief that makes us greedy, mean and unneighborly.
Brueggemann says “the fundamental human condition [is] anxiety,
fueled by [an] ideology that keeps pounding on us to take more,
to not think about our neighbor.”

That is going to be our focus next Sunday,
in the second of this two-part series.
So come back next week,
and hear Andrew Suderman bring a timely message,
on “The fear of scarcity and the politics of anxiety.”

But on today’s topic of abundance,
one of the best pieces of evidence in scripture,
that God wants us to take the principle of abundance seriously,
is Sabbath law.

We talked about that earlier this summer, if you recall.
What a gift Sabbath is!
Sabbath is a once-a-week bonus day,
reminding us that God provides what is needed
without our constant effort.
We can stop work.
We can cease our striving.
We can enjoy Sabbath rest.
We can open ourselves to God’s abundant gifts,
and live in God’s abundant time.

Now, let’s be clear about this.
To hold up the biblical narrative of God’s abundance
is not to deny the real and tragic impact of scarce resources.
Poverty is a scourge on the earth,
and God knows it and hates it.
Always has.
And by all means, let’s not cop out
and pretend that the Bible’s promise of abundance
is some quick and magic fix
for the devastating result of global poverty.

As a matter of fact, God is deeply concerned, and deeply pained,
by the reality that some members of the human family
experience the suffering of scarcity.
That’s why God rescued the Hebrew slaves from Egypt.
But it is precisely because God is so concerned about suffering
caused by real scarcity,
that God calls us away from the narrative that promotes it.

The scarcity narrative is self-fulfilling.
The more anxious we are about scarcity,
the more we hoard and accumulate,
the more we oppress and exclude and are violent.
But more about that next week.

The invitation to us this morning,
is simply to trust in the goodness of God,
to trust in God’s Creation song of abundance.

Can you just imagine what might happen to that laundry list of scarcity
I named at the beginning,
if all of God’s children started trusting that God will provide?
How might it change things,
if the human family started assuming a posture of trust?
of vulnerability with each other?
of kindness and generosity to all who suffer?
a posture that embraces difference?
that extends the self to others, instead of withdrawing?
that considers it a privilege to share what we have?

You know,
God’s abundance, thoroughly documented in scripture,
has nothing whatsoever to do with the individual pursuit of wealth.
More often than not,
pursuing wealth is a symptom of greed,
and greed is a core ingredient in the scarcity narrative.

Trusting in God’s abundance does the opposite.
It never pits the rich against the poor.
It never divides.
It’s not meant to create wealthy and affluent individuals.
It’s meant to create a risk-taking community
of faith and trust in God the provider.

That little story from 2 Kings demonstrated that principle.
There was a famine in the land and people were hungry.
A man wanting to care for the prophet Elisha, as an individual,
and keep him from starving,
brought him 20 pieces of bread.
Elisha told him to share it with all the prophets, over 100 men.
The man objected.
His assumption of scarcity told him it would never be enough.
Elisha ordered him to share with everyone.
And Elisha’s trust in God’s abundance was rewarded.
All were fed, and leftovers were gathered.

A precursor to the Gospel story of the feeding of the 5,000.
The disciples assumed
there would not be enough food to feed the big crowd.
Jesus invited them to risk trying.
Invited them to work together to feed them.
To build a risk-taking community of faith and trust.
And we saw what happened.
There was enough, and then some.

This principle, in both these stories
and repeated many more times throughout scripture,
promotes vulnerability and sharing and acts of community,
as opposed to hoarding and protecting and acts of self-interest.

God wants a people shaped by a theology of abundance.
That’s a very different thing than
God wanting Christians to get rich and comfy,
in order to prove to others
that God loves rich and comfy Christians the best.

No! I am here this morning to say
that God wants all God’s children, and all of creation,
to experience the abundance and diversity
that was designed into the stuff of creation, from Day One—
a design for shalom that got derailed by our rebellion,
a shalom which God has ever since been trying to rebuild
in partnership with us.

That’s what we can learn from the bread baskets—
the ones in Jesus’ day,
the ones in Elisha’s day,
the ones in our day.

God would love to partner with anyone who trusts in his abundance,
and is willing to work with God,
to ensure that everyone God loves gets to share in that abundance.

The fact that suffering and scarcity exist,
is not an indictment on our abundant God.
It’s an indictment on us,
and on the systems of this world that we built,
based on our own unbelief
that God is not generous and abundant toward all.

This is an invitation to a common life built on our firm belief
in a generous and abundant God.
Summer’s bounty is just an annual reminder.
There are other reminders, if we pay attention.

Let’s sing a song of abundance,
Sing the Journey #40, As rain from the clouds.

It’s a wonderful poem by Delores Dufner,
that compares God’s word,
and its way of growing, spreading and enriching the world,
with the physical practice of growing and cultivating food.

And each refrain makes God the gardener . . .
We praise you, our God, for the dew of your word;
We thank you, good gardener, for your tender toil.
We bless you, best farmer, for hundred-fold yield,
For harvest of grace in our once-barren soil.

—Phil Kniss, July 29, 2018

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Sunday, July 1, 2018

Phil Kniss: So how does God REALLY feel?

“Death and how God feels about it”
Lamentations 3:22-26, 32-33
Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15, 2:23-24

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In my line of work, I think about death . . . a lot.
And I’ve been around death . . . a lot.
151 deaths at Park View, since I arrived almost 22 years ago,
not to mention many I was close to outside the congregation.

There are as many ways to think and feel about a death—
as there are people who have died,
multiplied by the number of people
who had a relationship with the one who died.
Every life, and how it ends,
engenders strong feelings in those who encounter it.

When it comes to emotions, I’ve seen it all,
standing in the presence of grief—
agony, anxiety, gratitude,
rage, shock, relief, regret,
deep sadness, overwhelming tenderness and love . . . 
but almost never, indifference.

Because the nature of the person’s life, 
the manner in which it ended,
and the shape of our relationship to that person,
all impact how we feel about it,
and what we think about it.

And when we think about death, we think about God.
We seek God’s presence as we confront our grief.
We seek God’s help and guidance in how to move forward.
We understand God to be with the deceased—
with them as they died,
and with them still, in the eternal dimension.

We also speculate on how God feels about the death of that person.
Makes sense.
We believe our God, the God of the Bible, is a feeling God.
God loves, suffers,
knows anger, disappointment, and tenderness
toward humans and creation.

But . . . cliches abound
when it comes to God’s feelings, thoughts, and motives,
around someone’s death.
Those cliches don’t work for me.
But I try not to pass judgment on persons 
who find it helpful to imagine, and say things like,
God wanted another angel in heaven,
or that it was God’s time to call them home,
or that it was God’s will,
or suggesting God decides when someone should die, 
and God always knows best,
so we shouldn’t question God’s timing.

I try not to pass judgment on words like that . . . 
but some days I can’t help it . . .
Today is one of those days.
Because those sentiments get something wrong about God.

God hates death.
Let me say that again, so you hear me clearly.
God hates death.
Death is not God’s doing, nor God’s will.
That is true when the one who died was in their prime of life,
and that death came suddenly, or tragically,
or unjustly at the hands of violent persons.
And it is true when the one who died
had lived a very long and full life,
and was beloved by all, and died peacefully of natural causes.

Regardless, that death was not God’s doing,
and God took no pleasure in it.

Now just saying that gives me pause.
Because, as a pastor, I don’t always see the evil present in death.
Sometimes it is truly beautiful to witness,
and to be a participant-observer
in the process of someone’s dying.
Some of my most sacred and treasured moments of ministry
have been at someone’s bedside
when they took their final breath.
More than once, I have left that space and that moment,
saying to myself, or even saying aloud to others,
“That was a good death.”

I mean that with all my heart,
but I probably need to be more precise in my words,
if I want them to be true, biblically and theologically.

I should say, that was a beautiful and good way 
for that person and their loved ones to accept, 
and even embrace the reality of death,
and to walk into and through the process of dying.
The way that they died was good.
But I should not call it a good death.

I’m parsing my words carefully here,
because of insights we get from the scripture readings for the day.

In the lectionary, the Old Testament reading for today, 
sometimes called the “First Lesson”—gives two options.
There’s a reading from Lamentations 3 for most churches,
and for churches that value and use the Apocrypha,
there’s an option to read instead 
from the Wisdom of Solomon, chs. 1 and 2.
Today, I decided we should read both.

We don’t often read from the Apocrypha,
because it’s not part of our canonical scriptures,
but there is much wisdom and inspiration found in these texts.

I was immediately struck by these words about death.
Which I’m going to repeat . . .
God did not make death, 
and God does not delight in the death of the living.
For God created all things so that they might exist; 
the generative forces of the world are wholesome, 
and there is no destructive poison in them, 
and the dominion of Hades is not on earth.
For righteousness is immortal.
For God created us for incorruption, 
and made us in the image of God’s own eternity,
but through the devil’s envy death entered the world, 
and those who belong to his company experience it.

Is that really true?
Is death really not of God?

I love these affirmations of God’s core purpose and nature:
God created all things to exist (i.e., not to be destroyed).
What is wholesome are the generative forces of the world,
those powers that generate things new, and things living.
The realm of destruction belongs to another world, not the earth.
God created the earth to generate and sustain life.
Righteousness is immortal (i.e., does not succumb to death).

And can it be said any clearer than this phrase?
“God created us for incorruption, made us for eternity.”
It was by the “devil’s envy” that death entered the world.

Now . . . is that just . . . off?
Is that why this book ended up in the Apocrypha and not our Bible?
Can it be trusted to be true?

How can it say, “God does not delight in the death of the living.”
when Psalm 116 declares, in our bonafide scriptures,
“Precious in the sight of the Lord
is the death of his faithful servants”?

I wonder if both statements might be true, 
and whether they might illuminate each other.
Because we also read this morning, from Lamentations,
something that agrees with Wisdom of Solomon:
“God does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone.”

A straight reading of that statement
(God does not willingly afflict or grieve)
tells us that affliction and grief happen in spite of God’s will.

So how does God really feel about death?
And what comfort is there for us, 
in the way we answer that question?

I think we have to go back to the basics of what we know about God.
Our baseline theological affirmation is God is love.
Love demands a genuine and voluntary relationship,
where an exchange is possible.

While God might prefer
a perfect and glorified and uninterrupted and endless life
of love and worship from us humans,
love . . . required God to give us freedom.

The book of Genesis is a story of the consequences of human free will.
(I’m talking theology here,
not talking history or biology, so don’t get lost in the weeds.)
But according to Genesis 1-3,
our freedom resulted in the fall,
and that fall permeated all creation.
It introduced death and decay—thanks to “the devil’s envy,”
so says Wisdom of Solomon.
And since the fall, we don’t transition seamlessly into the eternal,
the forces of destruction, decay, and death
are fully and inevitably present in this life.
We move toward that end with an irresistible force.
That is life in this temporal and compromised world.

It’s not quite the world as God created it,
“It was by the devil’s envy that death entered the world.”
It’s not quite the world God still dreams of,
and is on a mission to restore and re-create.
But for here, for now, the evil of death is an essential reality.

That doesn’t make death good.
But neither is it an absolute evil.
We need not fear death, or think it irredeemable.

Through the redeeming work of Jesus Christ on the cross,
and the cosmic exclamation mark of approval
that God put on Jesus’ life,
by raising him from the dead,
we need not be overcome by this evil reality called death.

Sometimes when a person dies the evil is all too evident.
It’s plain to see.
When a life is snuffed out too soon, or too violently, or too randomly;
when there are clear forces of evil at work causing death—
as in war, terrorism, humanitarian crises, mass shootings,
racial violence, domestic violence, and more—
then we have no problem naming death for what it is,
the work of the evil one.

Yet sometimes when our loved ones die,
it is quite plain to see how life wins out over death,
how even as someone passes through the portal of death,
even in that moment,
love and life and gratitude are on full display,
and we can stand around that bed
and give thanks and praise to God.
The death may even be welcomed as a blessing,
because it is better than the suffering.

Emotionally, we respond differently.
But theologically, in both those cases, we can affirm that
neither the death nor the suffering that preceded was God’s doing.
Scripture affirms that death comes from another realm.

Whether the death is an opportunity for God’s love and mercy
to be put on display and experienced in abundance,
or whether the dying is agonizing, and we rage against it—
in death, we are all still on level ground.

As soon as we start thinking of death
as sometimes good and God-initiated
and other times evil and devil-initiated,
then we get confused about God’s love and justice.
Why would God call one person home,
and not another,
when they both had the same illness?
Why would God end a good life in its prime,
and let a truly immoral person 
live to an old age and die in their sins?

In death, God is present and active and extending love, always.
But God still hates death, all death.

Any beauty and goodness in the death of God’s faithful ones,
is a result of God’s grace, 
and God’s power to redeem what is fundamentally evil,
and make something new and something good.

Those are the generative forces
we read about this morning in the Wisdom of Solomon.

Sometimes that redemption, that generative work,
is easily seen.
Sometimes it’s hidden, remains unknown to us forever in this life.

But whenever we see an impulse toward life,
know that God is generating that.
And whenever we see a push toward death or destruction,
know that “the devil’s envy” is at work.

Reminds me of one of Ray Gingerich’s signature phrases.
Ray, a former professor of mine, and probably many of you,
died a couple weeks ago.
When doing theological ethics,
when measuring our actions against God’s agenda,
Ray would ask the baseline question,
“Is it life-giving, or is it death-dealing?”

Life is of God. Death is not.
The biblical image of God’s irresistible move toward life,
is the tree of life.

The tree appears at the very beginning, in the Garden of Eden.
It’s off-limits to Adam and Eve,
especially after their sin 
of eating of the tree of knowledge of good and evil,
and proving they had an urge to be like God.
God limited their access to the tree,
but it remained there in the garden.

But at the very end,
in the last chapter of the book of Revelation,
the tree of life shows up again.
On the banks of the river of the water of life, the tree of life stands,
green and lush bearing fruit for all,
giving leaves for the healing of the nations,
and the water of life keeps flowing,
from the throne of God to the earth.

Eden is restored.
God’s commitment for life, and against death,
is made clear, and definitive, and eternal.
Let’s sing about it.
HWB 606 – O have you not heard of that beautiful stream

—Phil Kniss, July 1, 2018

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