A Risky Business
Deborah Hughes Third
Presbyterian Church January 30, 2005
Psalm
15; Matthew 5:1-12
When I was in high school, I worked at a small, private tennis
club. I somehow managed to work my way up from making sandwiches
in the snack shop to the position of night manager, which included
running the pro shop. I attribute my success to a Presbyterian
upbringing and strong puritan work ethic.
There, I entertained myself by selling merchandise. I would
study all the literature about each line of racket: why this
wood or that metal? which increased power? which maximized accuracy?
which transferred less shock to the elbow on impact with the
ball? Mind you, I don’t play tennis.
Equipped with information, I would then set personal sales
goals like: “Let’s see if I can sell out all of
this line tonight!”
I learned I could sell anything.
After college, I found myself working at a trucking company,
usually working in the personnel or accounting offices, but
sometimes marketing. The goal was to book as many loads as possible
for any given day. Book the freight now, and worry about whether
we actually had enough equipment to cover it later.
I learned I can’t sell just anything, after all.
It’s just not in me to make promises on which I cannot
deliver. In fact, if I don’t believe what I’m saying,
I just can’t do it. I’m a miserable failure at lying.
Every once in awhile I come across someone whose approach to
Christianity sounds more like superstition than faith. They
ask questions like:
· Exactly what is required?
· How much time will it take?
· How much will I be expected to contribute?
· How often will I be expected to attend?
They are approaching this new relationship with God and church
as they would approach any transaction---entering into some
kind of exchange contract. “God, if I want to buy a ticket
into heaven—or into this social club called Christianity—how
much will it cost me? What are the dues?”
If it doesn’t cost too much, require too much. . . If
the benefits outweigh the cost, then they’re in!
For some, it’s like an insurance policy or a hedge fund.
Inside, they’re wrestling with questions like:
“What are the chances that there really is a heaven and
a hell? What about this whole damnation thing? Just in case
it’s all true, what can I do to hedge against that possibility?”
Here’s my ethical dilemma: I’m too honest.
All people want is a simple answer, and, truth be told, I could
probably do a lot more for church growth if I would just respond
with a quick and easy answer. There are churches out there that
have figured this out and adopted all kinds of marketing strategies
to make Christianity appealing amidst our secular, “me
oriented” culture.
The problem is: I’ve had some training in financial planning
and risk management.
And I have this ridiculous inability to shade the truth. So,
I have to be honest.
Faith is a risky business. Christianity? A risky business.
This is not a new dilemma. The basic question, “What
does God require of me?” is as old—well, as old
as the Bible. Today during the 10:45 service, we will read the
passage from Micah that asks exactly that question.
In this service, we read Psalm 15, a liturgical Psalm—one
of those psalms which we presume was read as a part of a public
ritual—possibly as a litany between Hebrew priest and
people, as we read it today.
Imagine the people gathered at the doors—the gates—of
the temple, inside the outer court, waiting to enter the sanctuary.
(I say “people,” but it probably would have been
just males, waiting to go into the sanctuary of the inner court.)
The priest asks the opening question:
“Who has the right to enter into your (God’s) tent,
To live on your holy mountain?” (Psalm 15:1)
The image of the tent and the mountain are powerful for someone
from ancient Israel.
· In the nomadic cultures of the ancient near east, the
moving tent was the home, the abode, into which one was welcomed
in the code of hospitality. Guests received food, shelter, and
even protection from anyone who might come seeking to harm them.
· By tradition, the tabernacle or tent that held the
ark of the covenant was believed to be the residence of God.
· Another place where God was believed to reside was
the mountain; that’s why Moses went up the mountain to
speak to God.
· Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem was built on a
high point, bringing the traditions of the tabernacle and mountain
of God together in one edifice.
So, who is worthy of entering into true worship with God?
The people of old, like the people of today, expected clear,
concise answers. “What do I need to sacrifice? What should
I wear? What should I bring? What should I say? What will it
cost? Am I worthy?”
But the answer, then and now, is complicated. As Micah tell
us to “seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with
God,” this passage from Psalm 15, provides a list of responses
that have to do with how we live our whole day. It’s not
about a Sunday commitment; it’s about our whole being.
Who will be welcome in God’s tent?
(from Psalm 15, NRSV)
2 Those whose way of being is blameless, who always do what
is right, and speak the truth from their heart;
3 whose tongue is not used for the tearing down of others in
slander, who do not wrong their friends, nor cast discredit
on their neighbors;
4 who look with contempt on the reprobate, but who honor those
who fear God, who stand by a pledge at all cost;
5 who do not lend money at interest, and do not take a bribe
against the innocent.
6 Those who do these things will be welcome in God’s tent.
It’s a short list, really. But what if we ended each
day, asking ourselves these questions? It’s a good catechism
to put on our nightstands. If we really seek to worship God,
we will find that responding to God will change how we respond
to the world around us. God cares more about how we treat other
children of God than how often we come to church.
You see, this faith thing, this relationship with God thing,
is a really hard sell, if you’re honest.
And we haven’t gotten to the really hard part yet.
You see, the rewards of being faithful aren’t always
what we value most in our society. We value wealth, power, and
notoriety. In Jesus’ day, they had a different set of
values.
In the Mediterranean world, honor was a central value, driving
all behavior. “Honor is a public claim to worth and a
public acknowledgment by others of that claim,” says Pilch
of Georgetown University. Certain kinds of honor were ascribed,
such as birth status, birth order, and social class, but others
were earned. The greatest achievement in life was to earn honor
in the eyes of one’s peers (and have it publicly acknowledged
by some body of authority). The greatest disgrace was the opposite:
public shame.
In 21st century American culture, it seems one earns status
by acquiring wealth, power, or the new success--notoriety. To
stand out, to be noticed, has become such a social drive within
our popular culture that there are those who dress to specifically
to get noticed. The more shock value, the greater the reaction,
the better. Getting air time is preferable to no air time, even
if the attention is derived through unusual devices like clothing
malfunctions, “telling all” about your personal
affairs in front of a live studio audience, or eating bugs or
climbing into vats with snakes on television.
But in Mediterranean culture, the greatest risk was to boast
of honor, and then have it publicly denounced. This would result
in total humiliation.
It is unlikely that reality television like “Survivor,”
or “Fear Factor,” or “The Apprentice”
or “American Idol” would have gotten off the ground
in ancient Mediterranean culture. Competition was a great mainstay
of the honor culture, but public shame was too great to bear,
often demanding the more honorable response of suicide rather
than facing public humiliation. In contrast, even the losers
on our reality television shows acquire notoriety (rather than
shame) in our culture!
The verses we read this morning from the Sermon on the Mount
we often refer to as “the beatitudes.” They are
among a group of similar sayings in the Bible that “present,
encourage, and praise honorable behavior.” These are public
proclamations of honor bestowed on a person or group of persons.
We probably do a disservice by translating them as “blessings.”
The first word in each of these beatitudes is from the Greek
word “makareos.” Rather than translating this into
the familiar “blessed are those,” or the now popular
(but probably more misleading) “happy are those”.
. . it would probably be a more accurate translation to say,
“How honorable are those who”. . .
“Blessed” or “happy” tends to imply
that the person is experiencing a personal, internal, or emotional
response. But the reference is more likely to a public validation
of an individual or group’s behavior, bestowed by a recognized
authority. In this case the implied authority is Jesus, who
is representing the highest authority: God.
As John Pilch has noted, there are three basic honorable behaviors
offered by Jesus in this section of the Sermon on the mount:
being poor, mourning, and hungering. He notes that "’Poor’
in the Bible is never an economic designation. It rather describes
someone who has temporarily lost honorable status and must seek
at all costs to regain but never surpass that status.”
So, “poor” refers to a group of people that changes
as individuals within it lose or gain status. Widows and orphans
are people who lose status when they lose a male head of household,
but can regain it by remarrying or being adopted into an extended
family. In Mediterranean culture, those who lose status or honor
are obligated to regain it.
But then as now, to follow Jesus often means to give up those
things which the culture values and to make choices for others
instead of choices for self.
As Pilch observes, “In Jesus' view, true honor and esteem
are determined and bestowed by God, very publicly, for all to
see. And the things that God considers truly honorable and worthy
of praise are almost always the opposite of what human beings
of any culture think.”
Now, let’s read the Matthew (5:1-12, adapted NRSV) again,
based on this interpretation:
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after
he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2Then he began to speak,
and taught them, saying:
3‘Honorable are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven. 4‘Honorable are those who mourn, for
they will be comforted.
5‘Honorable are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
6‘Honorable are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7‘Honorable are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
8‘Honorable are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
9‘Honorable are the peacemakers, for they will be called
children of God.
10‘Honorable are those who are persecuted for righteousness’
sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11‘Honorable are you when people revile you and persecute
you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
12Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for
in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before
you.
So, faith is a risky business. Following Christ does not lead
to wealth, power, or prestige. In fact, living faithfully may
actually require us to sacrifice those things of the world.
Living faithfully doesn’t promise to bless us with happiness
or protect us from suffering, calamity, or disease.
But at the end of the day, when we pull the list off the nightstand
to review what we’ve done with our time and energy. .
. then following a life of faithful worship of God—a life
that puts God’s children and the way we treat one another
ahead of our own drive for acceptance, success, and security
in the world’s terms—leads to the greatest reward
of all: God’s affirmation that we have lived a life honored
by our Creator.
May we all have the courage to enter into this risky business.
Amen.
