Readings:
2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Ephesians 1:3-14;
Mark 6: 14-29
We pray: Open our
hearts and minds O God, inspire our imaginings and delight our souls through
your word for us. In Jesus name. Amen
So the readings
for today were all that was promised, weren’t they: we hear of the celebration
of grace, the spiritual blessings found in Christ and, alongside, the dramatic
tragedy of evil and weakness, betrayal and death.
And yet, as
always, as one enters into the readings, you begin to see some threads that
connect, some balances that make the stories more real, more relevant held
together than apart. Well I hope so
anyway.
Let’s begin with
the Gospel – we have talked before about the many writing styles in the bible –
poetry, parable, instruction etc – and this is most definitely drama – high
drama. And, as with all good dramatic
plays, this is a story of betrayal and power and high tension. The characters are sharply portrayed and the
plot stark. A relative innocent is
convicted on a whim and, in the name of lust and power, is killed because of an
extravagant promise.
And there, I
think, is the thread that links – I’ll come back to that in a moment.
Herod, the main
character, was in a position of power, but wanted more, was sympathetic enough
to recognise that he had a choice of decision but chose the wrong one. It seems he was appreciative of John and his
teachings, felt some friendship with him maybe, yet succumbed to the gruesome
request by Herodias for his head. The
moment of grace was before him but in the end, he chose the path of gratuitous
violence for the sake of increased power and forbidden fruits.
So back to that
thread that links the reading – that of extravagant promise. We should all know the dangers of making
promises that you can’t fulfil – parenting 101 says do not say to a child such
as ‘if you don’t come in now I will never let you play outside again!’ How often have we as adults used ‘If you
don’t xyz I’ll never speak to you again’? or, in the midst of a grey week in
Dunedin, ‘the sun never shines!’ We are
lucky – we don’t usually get called on those ‘out there’ statements. The
trouble was, Herod did get taken up on his extravagant promise – and didn’t
have the strength of character to extricate himself from the consequences. In the end – a death and a burial –
reminiscent in fact of a parallel story: a mockery of decision making, death
and burial yet to come.
For there was
another person who was given to extravagant promises – and that was Jesus. But these were different – they were founded
in a new reality, anchored in a love that was stronger than death, confident
promises born from his relationship with the Father and his hope for the
world. Extravagant promises, gifts beyond
expectation, more that we could have hoped for.
In his letter to
the people of Ephesus, Paul is reminding the people of Jesus’
extravagance. He reminds them that they
are the beloved of God, blessed beyond all that we could imagine and destined
to live in that promise.
That is a
beautiful word, beloved, isn’t it? Those
of us at Wednesday Worship this past week heard that word ‘beloved’ used by
Teresa of Avila – always she spoke of God and Christ as ‘the beloved’ and Paul
tells us we are the beloved of God.
Paul in this
almost over the top, extravagantly worded letter, seeks to remind the people of
their inheritance in Christ, the sheer joy of living as God’s people. He tells them that this is no empty or
wishful thinking, neither is it some words scrambled together to impress – this
promise of grace and commitment is instead purposeful, planned and is happening
– through Christ we are known, we are the beloved of God. The promise is real!
A couple of side
observations at this point. It is interesting
to note that nowhere in this passage is Paul speaking into anything other than
into community – we, us, our – the only individual moment is our choosing to
commit, to belong. The blessings are all
in community.
And the other
aside – predestination - some use this passage to suggest that only some are
chosen as God’s people and some are not - ‘he destined us…according to… his
will.’ Rather, in my understanding, all
are chosen for it is God’s wish to gather all people together, some aware through
Christ and others not yet or some taking other paths. But all are the chosen of
God. There we are, the problematic predestination dealt with!. I’m joking of course but I don’t want the
offence of what you might not believe to shut out the joy and promise of what
you hear in this passage. Too often the
troublesome locks the door to what is actually a beautiful garden.
Back to the main
story.
For any of us
thinking that our work is in vain, our presence superfluous, this passage is a
resounding song of hope. A commentator
suggested it was ‘the excess of the language of worship’ drawing us into the
very presence of God.
It is all gift,
nothing of our doing – we don’t have to dance to receive the promise – love is
lavished on us despite us, for us.
It is so contrary
isn’t it to the way in which we determine worth in the world: dollars, status,
hard work, school, birth, colour, success.
Here we are just ‘beloved’.
So what’s with the
shame and the worthless and the guilt and the despair that we as a church so
often display? What’s with the stoic
faces and the judgemental conditional access to the good news of Christ?
What’s with the
worry about the future and the anxiety of doing church well? Isn’t Paul telling us to dance in the
blessings of God and all will flow from that?
And instead we
wallow in the fear of uncertainty and bend under the burden of ‘what if’.
We have been
adopted into Christ – you will all know stories of adoption and
inheritance! We watch with some
interest that programme ‘Who do you think you are?’ where celebrities seek out
stories of their past, their ancestry, and how often are there tales of family
that have gathered one another together, stronger in community, caring for the
unexpected, widening their understanding of family and extravagantly caring for
those on the edges.
They didn’t give
up hope that things can be different – because they are anchored in the
importance of family.
And we too have no
right to assume the mantle of hopelessness or despair for we are anchored in
the blessings of God through Christ, in the joy of being the beloved of
God.
We are to be a
dancing church – how does that sound?
But you know what I mean. Too often we are worry warts, too often we
expect the worst and anticipate failure – what would the Christian church look
like if we made this joy of adoption, grace and blessings in the love of God
our way of life, if we consistently focussed on the joy of what God is doing in
our midst, in this congregation and this community that is a blessing. Could we not then move from receiving
blessings to being a blessing?
And it’s not about
belittling or ignoring suffering here by the way, pretending all is well – but
rather it is, through our adoption in Christ, we are living in the certainty of
what a world in right relationship with God does look like, and we want all
people to know that - the blessings of being beloved.
As always, someone
else says it much better than I could:
“Our delight/dance
is not naïve in relations to suffering – it is in the lamentation for what
could have been that the hope for the world – eschatological hope – is based.”
When we encounter
trials and suffering we have a clear understanding of what could be, and what
should not be, and want to make that difference because we know the difference
by being in Christ. Is that not what
Jesus commissioned his disciples, us, to do? Go out and by example,
unashamedly, extravagantly show the world what joy and love there is in being
the beloved of God. Amen
Margaret Garland
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