Tag: Ordinary Time

Will They Know?

Psalm 138:8-9 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you keep me safe; you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right hand shall save me. God will make good God’s purpose for me; Abba God, your love endures for ever; do not abandon the works of your hands.

Introduction

Last week we touched on a few things. First, “What now?” Now that we find ourselves walking in the steps of the disciples, we are also faced with the same question they had, “What now?” And in this way we share in that same moment even though our place in history is very different; the question and the situation overlaps with similarity: we are without Jesus, just as they were; we are with the Holy Spirit, just as they were; we are called to participate in God’s revolution of love, life, and liberation in the world for the beloved, just as they were. Moving forward is precarious business and makes this time in our liturgical calendar EXTRAordinary rather than just ordinary.

Paul is our faithful guide through these beginning steps; for he knows what it’s like to be upended by Christ and brought to life by the Holy Spirit to the glory of God. So, second, Paul brought us into the necessity of full dependence on God, God’s word, and God’s spirit. We are exhorted to proclaim Jesus Christ (died, raised, and ascended) and not our own dogmas; this leads us to elevate the neighbor as the principal concern in our life (individually and together). To proclaim Christ into the world is to love the neighbor because to love the neighbor is to proclaim Christ because Christ is brought to the neighbor through our words and deeds (which both fuel proclamation). According to Paul, we must see Christ in our neighbor and our neighbor in Christ, thus, to love Christ is to love the neighbor and to proclaim Christ is to bring Christ closer to the neighbor whom Christ loves.

And, third, we do this as cheap, breakable vessels charged to carry within ourselves the very treasure of God: God’s self and God’s word. We are no longer our own, but we are Christ’s and if Christ’s than our neighbor’s and the world’s. We serve God and God’s mission in the world as vessels easily fractured but never destroyed because God’s strength is made known in our weakness; that makes us very strong.

But Paul isn’t finished with his “jars of clay”; there’s more to the story, there’s more to the answer to “What now?”

2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1

Therefore, we are not growing weary, rather even though our outer humanity is being utterly destroyed, yet our inner [humanity] is being made new day after day. For our immediate, light tribulation according to excellence is being worked out for us toward the surpassing eternal weight of glory, fixing our gaze not on the things that are perceived but [on] the things which cannot be perceived, for the things that can be perceived [are] temporary, but the things that cannot be perceived [are] eternal]. (2 Cor. 4:16-18)

Paul shifts the Corinthian’s attention away from the material to the spiritual. He does this in part because he is rendering his suffering, his struggle, his pain and turmoil as movement of the spiritual realm within the temporal realm. Paul’s faith places a demand on his body to speak (‘I believed therefore I spoke,’ also we, we believe, therefore we also speak (v.13). Faith leads to proclamation; love leads to deeds… there’s no way around it either for Paul or for scripture.[1],[2] Thus, if for Paul then for the disciples, too.

Pain and toil, tumult and suffering are going to come to those who move through the world turning the material world upside and bringing into reality the spiritual world; for Paul to really love God is to lead the lover through the torment of loving the neighbor in the world because this love of God which is love of neighbor is going to demand from the lover acts and words of love (the good news) for the beloved.[3] What Paul is talking about here are deeds and words that go beyond mere acts of charity and niceness because neither of those things necessitates the depth of love of God thus of God’s beloved (the neighbor). You can do those things without love and without gaining the attention of the system (because. The system isn’t going to create much fuss about it because it isn’t impacted by charity or niceness). But to really love God and God’s beloved in the world is to dare to transgress the red-lined boundaries drawn by the rulers of the kingdom of humanity forcing most to be out and few (who qualify) to be in. To love God and God’s beloved is to call sham on the inherent tendencies of the kingdom of humanity that gains power from us-ing and them-ing, friend-ing and foe-ing, including and excluding.

To step over these boundaries, to proclaim God’s love into this oppression and marginalization, is to draw radical attention to yourself and thus draw unto your mortal body the pain and suffering delivered by the kings of this material world. To conjure up the spiritual realm into the temporal realm is to up-end and un-do all that the kingdom of humanity values and esteems and will bring the heat down upon you. But this is why Paul then goes on to stress that he will be raised with Christ—for we know that the one who raised Jesus and us with Jesus will raise and will place [us] with you (v. 14). For Paul, the promised resurrection with Christ made him bolder and more active not smugger and more complacent in his future. It made him put everything on the line and not store it all up like grain in silos. He knew that no matter what happened to this outer body, this material body, there was (for him and all believers) a new body with Christ and with the community.[4] Therefore there was no reason to hold back and there was no reason for the Corinthian community to be worried because all the suffering and pain because of all things (Paul’s preaching and doing)[5] is for their benefit[6] and to the glory of God so that God’s grace and God’s love is abounding yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

This is why Paul then moves to speak of inner and outer humanity; these are not two separate entities vying for importance, rather Paul is speaking about the one person from two different viewpoints: the outer viewpoint (the material perspective: morality, praxis)[7] and the inner viewpoint (from the spiritual perspective: new creation).[8] In other words, Paul is employing a type of merism here, using two extreme points to speak of a whole, and in this case, he’s speaking of the whole person. And even if the material body, the outer humanity, is diminishing—through trial and tumult, pain and suffering, persecution and threat—the spiritual body, the inner humanity is not diminishing because nothing can steal from God’s glory and grace made manifest in the believer’s new creation.[9] And so Paul can exhort the Corinthian believers to fix their gaze on things that cannot be perceived rather than things that can be perceived because whatever is perceived is that which is passing away, temporal, temporary and will disappoint time and time again because it always goes away. Whether it is wealth, security, comfort, lack of trouble, things of this ilk are all based on the temporal, a material reality that is fleeting, and they will return to dust. Thus, to focus on Christ, press into God’s word, and rely fully on God’s Spirit is to fix the gaze on things that cannot be perceived and thus can never (ever!) pass away because they are of God and thus of the spiritual realm and are the things of eternity, never passing away thus a lasting reality rather than a temporary one.[10] Thus, as Paul fixes his own gaze on things not perceived, he exhorts the Corinthians to follow suit.[11]

Conclusion

So, Paul moves us closer to answering the question proposed by this ecclesiastical EXTRAordinary time: “What now?” Both the Christian and the Christian community will live in the tension of being in the world but not of the world, to quote John’s Jesus. We are exhorted to suspend disbelief especially when everything seems to be pointing to and advocating for death, indifference, and captivity. We must dare to step into the gap, the void, into the margins and fringe to carry our proclamation (in word and deed) of God’s good news and participate in God’s long esteemed mission and revolution in the world to bring divine love, life, and liberation to the beloved. To adhere to this tension and daring to enter in will render you, the believer, the epicenter of the material realm and the spiritual realm, where both collide and coalesce. For, according to Paul, it is the believer who can—with eyes fixed on that which cannot be seen—call out and expose that which is perceived to be false, as a sham, as a mocking of life by death, of love by indifference, of liberation by captivity.

Today we sing, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” So, part of answering “What now?” is honestly asking, “Will they?”

[1] Murray J. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC, eds. I Howard Marshall and Donald A Hagner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 351. “Although suffering is part and parcel of the apostolic ministry, faith in God and in the gospel cannot but lead to the proclamation of the good news the open declaration of the truth (v. 2b).”

[2] Harris, Second Corinthians, 351. “…Paul views himself as sharing ‘the same spirit of faith’ as was expressed by the psalmist when he said ‘I believe, and therefore I spoke.’”

[3] Harris, Second Corinthians, 352. “…Paul is clearly focusing on the principle ‘faith leads to speech’ or ‘believing is the ground…for speaking.’ As the principle applies to his case, Paul is affirming that in spite of the inroads of θάνατος in his life (v. 12a), his unswerving belief in God and in the gospel as God’s powerful instrument to bring salvation to everyone who has faith…made it natural and necessary for him to declare (λαλεῖν) the good news.”

[4] Harris, Second Corinthians, 353. “For Paul, Christ’s resurrection formed the guarantee of believers’ resurrection, which is the probable significance of the phrase σὺν Ἰησοῦ.”

[5] Harris, Second Corinthians, 356. Τὰ πάντα “refers to all that Paul does and that happens to him, but in particular his preaching (vv. 2-3, 5, 7) and his suffering (vv. 8-12).”

[6] Harris, Second Corinthians, 356. “The apostle reminds his converts that all aspects of his life promote not his own good but theirs—a sentiment already expressed…”

[7] Harris, Second Corinthians, 360. “He is contemplating his total existence from two contrasting viewpoints. The ‘outer self’ is the whole person from the standpoint of one’s ‘creaturely mortality,’ the physical aspect of the person.”

[8] Harris, Second Corinthians, 360. “The ‘inner self’ is …the whole person as a ‘new creation’ (5:17) or a ‘new person’ (Col. 3:9-10), ‘the renewed being of the Christian,’ the spiritual aspect of the believer.”

[9] Harris, Second Corinthians, 363. “…[Paul] had this paradoxical attitude toward affliction because his spiritual sights were set on the δόξα that could not be seen but was continuing to be produced.”

[10] Harris, Second Corinthians, 364. “Paul had not fixed his gaze exclusively on τὰ μὴ βλεπόμεν. Rather, he is affirming that his affections were on the ‘the realm above’…on lasting realities—some future, but others already present although still be fully realized.”

[11] Harris, Second Corinthians, 365. “Christians should be characterized by a fixation on invisible, enteral realities. Paradoxically, their eyes are riveted on what cannot be seen. The world of sense does not determine their outlook and action.”

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The [extra] Ordinary Time of Pentecost

Psalm 139:16-17 How deep I find your thoughts, O God! how great is the sum of them! If I were to count them, they would be more in number than the sand; to count them all, my life span would need to be like yours.

Introduction

The beauty of “ordinary time” is that, quite frankly, it is anything but ordinary. If we are following the story line and taking seriously the extensive breadth of the reach of the Triune God extending through space and time, then we are left—after Pentecost/Trinity Sunday—in the exact same spot the disciples were left when Jesus ascended to God and the Paraclete descended to be with, in, and among the disciples, bringing God intimately close. Being left behind by Christ and yet indwelled by the Spirit, the disciples had to figure out how to move forward, one step at a time. Be not mistaken, even if this (visible) church has been around for decades and the larger (invisible) church for millennia, we are, as of this Sunday, (re)located—through story and narrative—back at the beginning, with the recently left and spiritually emboldened disciples.

While it may seem odd that this is the case, it’s only odd because the story seems chopped off at Pentecost/Trinity Sunday, truncated to the time between Advent 1 and Pentecost/Trinity Sunday as if the church is only about the feasts of Christ and not of the continual feast of the Spirit. We dismiss this liturgical season as a non-event. It’s banal, nothing really changes, we have nothing to celebrate or events to plan; no one makes a point to come to church because it’s Pentecost 16. It’s a “down-time” for the church. Vacations happen now. It’s time that isn’t time, it seems to exist at the end of and before time as if the story stops with Pentecost and picks up again with Advent. But it’s the start and end of time; it is during the long season of Pentecost, of ordinary time, where we see time begin for the church—begin and end in God.

So, if we are taking the story—the entire story—very seriously then we can see (and hear!) that during every season of Pentecost we are re-called, re-substantiated, re-created, re-minded that our story, our being, our presence in the world, is dependent and nurtured and sustained by God in God for God’s glory. And every year we must figure out, once again, what it means to be such as us in this world, at this time, in this shape and form. And in this way, the church’s liturgical “ordinary time” becomes the most EXTRAordinary because here it becomes personal and public, here we wrestle with God, here we watch as God continues unfolding the stories—from Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost—in our living (together as this church here in this building and together as the church outside of this building). Here we are called to find ways to participate in God’s mission and proclamation in the world, and here we are forced to ask the same question the disciples asked when they found themselves needing to become a new community in the world of God for God’s glory: what now?

2 Corinthians 4:5-12

For we do not preach ourselves but Lord Christ Jesus, and ourselves as your slaves through Jesus. Because God—the one who says “Let light be radiant out of darkness”—radiated [and continues to radiate] in our hearts toward the illumination of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. (2 Cor 4:5-6)

So, as we dive into [extra]Ordinary Time, we are presented with Paul, in a letter to the Corinthians, reminding them that this isn’t about them but about God. It was started by God, it is being sustained by God, and it will continue to go forward by God’s power. This isn’t about us in the sense that we are to proclaim our ideas of what the church is or should be or our own authority. Rather, we proclaim what God has done (from Christmas to Pentecost) for the beloved which includes us,[1] thus continuing the story forward through our proclamation, making Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost real for others.

What does Paul say we proclaim? Jesus Christ is Lord. This, for Paul, is the foundation of our confession—then and now.[2] It is the public and private confession—inspired by the Holy Spirit—that Jesus of Nazareth is also Jesus the Christ, that Jesus is God’s child, the author of the cosmos and the church, that death and evil don’t have the final word but hope and life do, that Jesus is the righteous judge of all, and that all of this demands a rejection of former allegiances in the kingdom of humanity.[3] Thus, for this reason, Paul says that he does not proclaim himself but Christ Jesus, Lord; and, for this reason, Paul insists on the importance of the neighbor (the beloved of God) and the demand that insistence makes on the believer to forsake “personal rights,” because that is exactly what Christ did while he was here.[4]

Behind all of this is Paul’s personal confession that everything that he is doing and saying, and the basic establishment of the church is all God’s doing. There’s no way that Paul would see himself as a slave to his neighbor apart from the illumination of God’s word in his heart; everything Paul does and says is informed by God who beckons cosmic light to be born in cosmic darkness and who is the same one who beckons the light of the Gospel to be born in darkened hearts by the power of the divine Spirit.[5],[6],[7]

And how does God make God’s illumination known? Through fragile and expendable vessels, cheap and unattractive. It is human beings, in frail bodies, who are charged with the “privileged guardianship” of the message of God’s word.[8] (Priceless contents enveloped by meager, breakable material.[9]) And by virtue of everything being dependent on God, these fragile, breakable, relatively worthless vessels become the most powerful of God[10] through their call to take up and participate in the mission and proclamation of God’s divine revolution of love, life, and liberation in the world, on behalf of God’s beloved.[11] Thus, Paul lists the ways human weakness is made strong through God’s divine power.[12] The disciples of God by God’s power and word sustaining them are distressed but not restricted, perplexed but not thwarted, persecuted but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed (vv. 8-9). Paul, as a meager, breakable vessel, is utterly dependent on God’s power.[13] And it is through this human weakness and fragility that God’s strength and durability are made known through Paul; it is in the daily dying of the disciples as they move forward step by step as this new community called into God’s mission and proclamation in the world where God’s life is made manifest; in the disciples’ suffering, Jesus’s risen life is articulated and made real.[14]

Conclusion

So this simple season of Pentecost is [extra]Ordinary Time because we are reminded that everything about our entire enterprise as the church (both as church visible and participant in the church invisible) is totally and completely dependent on God: Creator, Reconciler, and Redeemer. Everything we are, have been, and will be is defined and dependent on the work of the triune God in three persons: We are each called together corporately and individually to God by God through the incarnate Word of God, Jesus Christ proclaimed and made known to us by the power of the Holy Spirit. God calls us, God determines us, God sustains us. We are each here together as this body of Christ called by name, determined as this church in this time at this moment in history, and sustained to participate in God’s mission and proclamation in the world. It’s this utter and total dependence—this being called, determined, and sustained—that makes every day in this “Ordinary” season positively extraordinary.

And by saying this it means that we have a vital role to play in this mission of God in the world, the divine revolution of love, life, and liberation aimed toward upending broken human systems and ideologies determined to bring indifference, death, and captivity. Sometimes, when stressing utter dependence it’s tempting to “let go and let God” as if you are nothing more than a puppet on divine hand in God’s drama. But this would be the opposite of being in the world but not of the world, the opposite of being filled with the presence of the divine spirit (the Paraclete) who comes to expose and judge the world in the way it has failed to support and defend all of God’s beloved. So, going into this season of Pentecost, our longest liturgical season, we are to press into the Spirit to find our strength and resolve and be guided by that same Spirit to actively participate in the mission of God in the world made known to us in Christ. We are to face the question, what now?, head on and dare to answer it for us and for the world, today and then again next week. We are to be in the world as breakable and fragile vessels, members of God’s royal army, not wielding weapons esteemed and sanctioned by the military. Rather, we wield the divine instruments of God: the declaration of love, the bringing of liberation, and the affirmation of life.

[1] Murray J. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC, eds. I Howard Marshall and Donald A Hagner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 331. “…[Paul] may be observing that though he sought to commend himself to everyone person’s conscience….he never advertised or heralded himself, never pressed personal claims.”

[2] Harris, Corinthians, 332. “…κύριον is predicative, ‘Jesus Christ as Lord.’ The two earliest Christological confessions were ὀ Χριστὸς, ‘Jesus is the Messiah’… and κύριος Ἰησοῦς ‘Jesus is Lord’…”

[3] Harris, Corinthians, 332.

[4] Harris, Corinthians, 333. “[Paul] envisaged his relationship to Christ and his relationship to fellow Christians as one of slavery, that is, as unquestioning service for the benefit of the other, as the result of the unconditional but voluntary surrender of all personal rights. In this lowly service to others, Paul was following in the footsteps of his Lord, who himself had adopted the status and role of a δοῦλος…”

[5] Harris, Corinthians, 333-334. “It was because God had dispelled his darkness by illuminating his heart and had given him a knowledge of Christ he wished to share. The spiritual principle is this; the person who has light (v. 5) is responsible to share that light (v. 4).

[6] Harris, Corinthians, 335. “Paul is not only depicting the heart as by nature dark through sin but also implying that conversion is the replacement of that darkness by light, a theme frequently expressed in the NT.”

[7] Harris, Corinthians, 335. “…the knowledge that produces illumination is nothing other than knowledge of the gospel.”

[8] Harris, Corinthians, 339.

[9] Harris, Corinthians, 340. “Such vessels were regarded as fragile and as expendable because the were cheap and often unattractive. So the paradox Paul is expressing is that although the container is relatively worthless…the content are priceless. Although the gospel treasure is indescribably valuable, the gospel’s ministers are of little value in comparison.”

[10] Harris, Corinthians, 340. “σκεύη refers to whole persons, who, although insignificant and weak in themselves, become God’s powerful instruments in communicating the treasure of the gospel.”

[11] Harris, Corinthians, 341. “Because the gospel treasure has been entrusted to fail mortals who lack inherent power, the δύναμις displayed through preaching and in suffering is demonstrably divine and not human.”

[12] Harris, Corinthians, 342. “…the first element in each antithesis illustrates human weakness, the second illustrates divine power.”

[13] Harris, Corinthians, 345. “…it is clear that in Paul’s estimation this ‘hardship catalogue’ demonstrates, not his virtuous character or his buoyant self-sufficiency or his steadfast courage amid adversity…but his utter dependence as a frail human being on the superlative excellent…of God’s power.”

[14] Harris, Corinthians, 347. “First, the resurrection life of Jesus is evident at precisely the same time as there is a ‘carrying around’ of his dying. Indeed, the very purpose of the believer’s identification with Jesus in his sufferings is to provide an opportunity of the display of Jesus’ risen life. Second, one and the same physical body is the place where the sufferings of Jesus are repeated and where his risen power if manifested.”

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