The Human Family
Ruth 1:15-18 John 19:23-27
When the tsunami hit Indonesia in 2004 it devastated more than just the human family. The animal kingdom was devastated as well. One story that came out of that devastation is particularly remarkable; and it holds, I think, a lesson for the human family.
Flooding from the tsunami washed a family of hippos down a river and carried them out to sea. There was little hope that they would survive and little that could be done for them. Rescue teams were meager and had to be deployed to help people. And indeed, the hippos perished, all except for a baby who was found the next day stranded on a coral reef. The sight was so heart wrenching that the rescue teams left off helping people to save him. He was named Owen for the man who was able to wrestle a net over him. Physically, Owen was fine. Emotionally, he was a wreck. He was described by the rescue team as traumatized and terrified. Since he could not survive in the wild, he was brought to an animal sanctuary.
There, Owen immediately rushed up to a giant tortoise named Mzee, and the rest, as they say, was history. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Mzee had no prior experience as mother, especially considering the fact that Mzee was a male. And Mzee was no spring chicken. He was approaching the 150 year mark. But despite his inexperience and his age, Mzee took to motherhood right away. The two slept side by side that night, and the next morning Mzee shared his breakfast with Owen then led him to the water for a morning swim.
Within a week, they two were inseparable. Owen clearly adored his new mother. He was often seen licking Mzee’s face as they passed the time snuggling. And if anyone got too close to Mzee, Owen stood guard ready to defend him. Maybe he felt that he’d already lost one mother, and he wasn’t about to lose another.
When, a few months later, another hippo was introduced to familiarize Owen with his own kind, Owen was polite, but indifferent. By this time Owen and Mzee had developed their own way of communicating. They found a sound they could both make – a sort of hiss – and they used it to call to each other or attract each other’s attention. Baby hippos stay with mothers for several years. Clearly they had both settled in for the long haul.
As I said, there’s a lesson in all this for the human family. I suppose, in fact, there are several lessons. There is a lesson about resiliency in the wake of catastrophe. There is a lesson about hope when all is lost. But the main lesson, for me at least, is a lesson about family. You can’t deny that Mzee and Owen were an atypical family, but neither can you deny that they were a family. They found each other in life - in this life, not storybook life, but life that is riddled by disasters, natural and otherwise. They found each other in life, and they created a family.
They did, after all, just what family members do, or at least are supposed to do – they nurtured each other, they supported each other; they depended upon each other; they protected each other, they learned from each other. And dare I say it? They loved each other. Yes, they were an atypical family, but precisely therein lies the lesson about family. The lesson is that a family need not be typical. It need not be comprised of the typical members. What creates a family is the relationship between its members, no matter how atypical those members may be. Go tell Owen that Mzee is not his mother. I dare you.
There are members of the human family, however, who would not be quick and eager to internalize this lesson, and a good many of those members happen to be church goers. This is because the church, by and large, has not smiled upon these atypical families. You could even state it more strongly and say that the church, by and large, has refused to countenance them. It believes that they fall somewhere on the sin spectrum and therefore undermine the church and larger society.
And of course. it enlists the Bible as support. Adam and Eve are chiefly called up. Adam and Eve - a typical family: a husband, a wife, and two sons. If the Bible supported atypical families, it concludes, there’d be no Adam and Eve. There’d be some kind of atypical family instead.
But maybe we need to squint at the Bible a bit harder. Is it really appropriate to call up Adam and Eve as support for the typical family? Eve, after all, occasioned nothing less than the fall of humankind, and their sons didn’t get along as well as brothers should. One, recall, murdered the other. Does the Bible really offer Adam and Eve as support for the typical family, or does it offer them as evidence of our self-imposed alienation from God and the violent havoc it wreaks within human relationships?
And while I’m at it, could it possibly be that the Bible’s import is to support the typical family over against the atypical family? Such relatively small potatoes as those? The most influential book in human history? A book that has served more to inspire humankind and advance human culture than any other? A book that proclaims the redemption of all the cosmos through the same word that created it? A book that is so profound and mysterious, so utterly great, that we can only but sense that it must point back to God?
And in fact, if we do keep squinting at the Bible, if we are allowed to look past Adam and Eve - who are presumably standing guard at its portal frowning upon the atypical family - we discover that the Bible in fact offers the very lesson that Mzee and Owen offer – that what creates a family is not typical members, but the relationship between its members. In fact, the Bible even goes so far as to offer that atypical families may have a thing or two to each typical families about the ways of God.
Consider our Old Testament lesson. It doesn’t seem at superficial reading to be as scandalous as it really is. What is not superficially evident is that Naomi was an Israelite, and Ruth was a Moabite. Israelites considered Moabites, stated bluntly, to be scum. It was only out of exigency that Naomi found herself with a Moabite daughter in law.
Naomi, her husband, and her two sons (a typical family) were forced to take refuge in Moab during a famine. The famine was so protracted that the sons had to marry Moabite women or not marry at all. So they did, but in short order Naomi’s husband and two sons died, leaving Naomi with Moabite daughters in law. When the famine ended and it became possible for Naomi to return it Israel, it wasn’t even on Naomi’s radar that she and her Moabite daughters in law should stay together. Moabites were scorned and despised by the Israelites. So Naomi told them that it was time for each to return where they had come from.
But Ruth wept, and begged, and clung to her. Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go, I will go…your people shall be my people, and your God my God… Naomi, after all, was the only mother Ruth had. And she loved her. And when Ruth returned with Naomi to Israel, she was such an exemplary daughter in law that the prejudice of the Israelites was overcome. The Israelites concluded, even, that Ruth was the agent of God’s blessing to Naomi. But what an atypical family. Two women, and of enemy peoples.
And consider our gospel lesson. In it, Jesus himself creates an atypical family. As he hung from his cross dying he looked down upon grieving Mary, and did the best he could do for her. He called down to the John, “Here is your mother.” And John thereafter took her into his home. But this, if you think about it, is surpassing strange in light of the fact that Mary had a large brood of her own children. Why did Jesus entrust his mother to John?
It can only be that at the time of Jesus’ death, his brothers and sisters had renounced him, took him be insane or demon possessed. They didn’t understand who he was or what he had come to do. But John did. John understood. Jesus knew that for this reason he would be a better “son” to Mary than his own brothers and sisters. Had he not taught, Whoever does with will of God is my true brother or sister?
And in truth it should come as no surprise that Jesus did just this. It is presaged all over his teaching that Jesus prized atypical relationships. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…If you love only those who love you, what reward is that?...If you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others?...That which you do to the least of these my brothers and sisters, you do unto me.
When it comes right down to it, about Jesus Christ there was nothing typical whatsoever. I’d name him to be the most atypical man who ever lived. He set out to throw his life away for the sake of God’s love and his love. Hardly typical.
Though, admittedly, the contest of biblical interpretation is impossible to win. In other pulpits a message opposite to mine is doubtless being preached this hour. So what how are we to conclude the contest of biblical interpretation?
I’d say an interpretation wins if it really causes us to think, really troubles our facile, conventional assumptions and self-interest; I’d say it wins if it brings those in the margins into the center; I’d say it wins if it takes cause with those who have fallen victim to stigmas and stereotypes; I’d say it wins if it defends the vulnerable, if it treats all people, and I mean ALL people, according to their God given dignity; I’d say it wins if it trusts other people to make their own decisions about how to live their lives, if it is sparing in judgment, if it affirms that fear may indeed be overcome with love.
Or maybe the contest of biblical interpretation is simply won by Owen and Mzee, when God gives us to see in them their Creator’s love. Amen.
Romans 8:25 Waiting on the Lord Many years ago, almost too many to count, I had the opportunity to study the Old Testament at the University of Edinburgh. That means that I had the opportunity to live in Scotland for a time -- so I am here to tell you that there is more to Scottish culture than kilts and bagpipes. There is the Scottish national dish -- Haggis to be precise. In case you’re unfamiliar with Haggis, it is made from the liver, heart, and lungs of a sheep. They pack them into the sheep’s stomach, toss in a little oatmeal, and boil it. I only tried it once. Once was enough. Then there’s the Scottish national flower – the thistle. You see thistles everywhere -- on flags, coats of armor, dishware. They were once even featured on the currency. I would have thought that heather would have been a better contender for the Scottish national flower -- it is everywhere, and it’s much less prickly -- but no one consulted me. Then there’s the Scottish national poet, Bobby Burns. Burns wrote in Old Scottish. I actually picked up quite a bit of Old Scottish during my time in Edinburgh. I pride myself that I can recite much of his poetry by heart. Old Scottish is unintelligible to the modern ear, but the Scots still love him. I used to walk past the Scottish National Gallery of Art on the way to class. You could peer in the front door and see the famed portrait of him. If you’re unacquainted with his work, he wrote, To a Mouse. To a Louse. And, I kid you not, Address to a Haggis. And then, of course, there’s Greyfriars Bobby. I guess you could call Greyfriars Bobby the Scottish national dog. Grayfriers Bobby was a good Scottish breed -- the Skye Terrior. He and his master were inseparable, and after his master’s untimely death, Greyfriars Bobby remained at his master’s graveside -- day in and day out -- for 14 years, until he himself died. Greyfriars Bobby is a testament of devotion and loyalty not just to the Scottish, but to everyone. A statue of Greyfriars Bobby stands in the heart of town. At the funeral of his master, when the casket was being lowered into its final resting place, Greyfriars Bobby gave way to grief. He whined, whimpered and pawed at the grave. Beyond his grief, however, Greyfriars Bobby settled into a daily routine. Every day, when the 1:00 gun was fired, a man by the name of William Dow, who had befriended Grayfriers Bobby, picked him up at the cemetery. They strolled together to a local coffee shop, where Grayfriers Bobby ate his daily meal. After a bit of socializing, they strolled back to the cemetery. Greyfriars Bobby settled back onto his master’s gravesite and watched the sunset. There were attempts to lure Greyfriars Bobby away from his master’s graveside, especially in inclement weather, but they were fruitless. Greyfrirs Bobby refused to leave. Greyfriars Bobby is all the proof I need that dogs go to heaven. Do you really think that he when arrived at the Pearly Gates to be reunited with his master, Peter, who Jesus entrusted with the keys to bound and to loose, turned him away on the grounds that he was a dog? That makes no sense to me. And I’m sure it made no sense to Peter. There’s a lesson we can learn this morning from Greyfriars Bobby. And lest you register skepticism that there’s a lesson we can learn from dogs -- this is the whole point of the book of Ruth – that we can learn lessons in unexpected places. Ruth was a despised foreigner. She was feared. She was suspected. She was accused. Yet there were lessons that the people of Israel learned from her. There are lessons we can learn in unexpected places. At least that’s what the Bible proclaims. And it’s not just Ruth. It’s Ruth, yes. But it’s also the Good Samaritan; it’s the Magi, it's the Roman Centurion, it’s the Canaanite woman, it’s the Ninevites, it’s the Ethiopian eunich, it’s Cornelius. And if the Bible hits you over the head with something that many times, and you still refuse to accept it, you’re just being stubborn. There are lessons we can learn in unexpected places. And the more unexpected the place, the more important the lesson. Sure, there’s a lesson we can learn from Greyfriars Bobby about loyalty and devotion, but there’s also a lesson we can learn from him about waiting for someone. Because if you think about it, we are all waiting for someone. Every one of us. It could be someone who is angry with us – someone who holds a grudge against us, someone who dislikes us, someone from whom we are estranged. It could be someone who is stationed at a far-flung corner of the earth -- someone who is called to serve and sacrifice, someone who has placed himself in harm’s way, someone we may never see again. It could be someone who has fallen prey to an addiction – someone who is facing an uphill battle, someone who has made strides only to fall back, someone whose potential and possibility are under siege. And it could be, like with Greyfriars Bobby, someone that we lost – someone who is irreplaceable, someone who enriched and defined our lives, someone who spared us from loneliness and aimlessness. We are all waiting for someone. And so, we can learn a lesson from Greyfriars Bobby, and it is this. Yes, for a time we grieve their absence. We weep. We mourn. We despair, even. We do all these things…for a time. But then we must get back to the business of living. As Langston Hughes reminds us, Life is for the living. We must get back to the business of living – of caring for others, of speaking the truth, of practicing fairness, of sacrificing for others, of sharing our abundance, of striving for peace – of doing the best we can to prove, day by day, that we have heard the upward call of Jesus Christ. While all the while we are waiting for someone. But here’s the thing. We don’t wait in vain. Because we wait, ultimately, through Jesus Christ -- so we wait for our eternal home in heaven where those for whom we wait are waiting for us. And we will know that joyous reunion that Greyfriars Bobby and his master now know. Amen.
John 20:1-18 But why? Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? There is, of course, the easy answer. Mary stood weeping outside the tomb because, arriving at the tomb, she discovered that Jesus’ body had been stolen. But that’s the easy answer. Easy answers are, as often as not, simplifications; and simplifications are, as often as not, distortions. So, let us look beyond the easy answer and ask again, Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? Mary was one of those people whom nature had favored. And nature does play favorites -- that much is undeniable. Mary was tenacious, discerning, steadfast, spontaneous, courageous – not to mention brimming with natural affections. Yes, she was one of those people whom nature had favored, but sometimes that is not enough. Mary had a bad start in life, and that tends to temper even nature’s most generous gifts. When Jesus first encountered Mary, she was not of sound spirit. She was afflicted and tormented. But Jesus performed a miracle that recalled her to life. She became his passionate and devoted follower. It would seem that her past was behind her. Like with so many others Jesus encountered, Mary had been lost and now was found. But this only led her to the foot of his cross. She had endured the entire spectacle. Dark men – petty, jealous, and scheming -- closed in on him. They subjected him to a farce of a trial, and this only as a formality. They intended to see him executed from the very beginning. The disciples, for their part, panicked and scattered. What if they were next to be targeted? But not Mary. She abided with him those endless hours as he hung on the cross right through to his death agony. She watched from a distance as Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus deposed his body from the cross and laid it in a tomb. Mary was shattered. She was traumatized. She was devastated. She was forced to endure the unthinkable – the death of one deeply beloved, and to malicious violence. But Mary was not entirely bereft. She still had his body. She could cleanse and anoint it, bestow upon it what loving care she could. And going forward she could become that person – the one who visits the graveside, the one who keeps memories alive, the one whose tears are never exhausted. In time she would achieve a sort of notoriety for it, but it’s the kind of notoriety no one wants. But she arrived at his tomb only to discover that his body had been stolen. So why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? She stood weeping outside the tomb because she had hit rock bottom. I have never hit rock bottom. If dread keeps it at bay, dread has done that much for me. But I have seen others who have. It’s a terrible thing to witness, much less to experience. A kind of derangement takes hold. They aren’t recognizable. They aren’t themselves. This is why Mary couldn’t add up two and two. She peered into the tomb and saw two angels robed in white raiment. Why are you weeping? They asked. Now they didn’t ask because they wanted to hear her theory about the graverobbers. This was not the sense of their question. Woman, why are you weeping? They were asking to convey that there was nothing to weep about. And it was the same thing when the resurrected Jesus asked the same question. Woman, why are you weeping? There’s nothing to weep about. I am alive. I am here. I am with you. Dry your tears. But Mary had hit rock bottom, so it didn’t add up. But then Jesus said something. Something cataclysmic. Something earth shattering. Something beyond description and explanation. And something right under our noses. If there’s one trait we all share, one thing we are all good at, one thing we are all GREAT at, it’s not seeing what’s right under our noses. Jesus called her by name. Mary! he said. And suddenly the truth broke in on her. Dimly, but at the same time, and paradoxically, with crystal clarity. She knew. She knew how we know most deeply – in our bones, in our guts, in our hearts. This man so beloved by her – her teacher, healer, leader, friend….he was much more than that. He was the one that time could not bind, the one that darkness could not thwart. He was the one over whom death had no dominion. He was the one she declared him to be. He was the Lord. And he called her by name . Rock bottom? There was no rock bottom. There was only hope, consolation, meaning, purpose, direction, relief, and rejoicing. From his height to her depth, he called her by name. Rock bottom? She now had good news to proclaim, and she proclaimed it for all she was worth. Friends in Christ, her good news is our good news. No matter what you’ve done, what you are doing, or what you will do. No matter how low you fall. No matter how deep you sink. No matter how bad you’re stuck. His deliverance has your name on it. His triumph has your name on it. His love has your name on it. So let us call him by name – Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
I Samuel 16:4-5 Matthew 5:9 To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It was because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And let’s not pretend that it doesn’t. The hold outs among us might stick their chests out and assert that conflict has no effect on them -- that they are immune from conflict. But personally, I’m a bit skeptical. As I’ve mentioned before, in my various vocations and avocations, I have been subjected to psychological tests. And not just a few of them. And one of the areas that is tested is how you react to conflict – whether you are conflict tolerant or conflict intolerant. According to the tests, I am conflict tolerant, as conflict tolerant as one can be. According to the tests, there is nothing that makes me more comfortable, and more relaxed, and more at ease than conflict. Conflict? Bring it on. There’s nothing I relish more. At least according to the tests. But why is it that in the face of conflict, I become preoccupied. I can’t get it off my mind. I become sleepless. I toss and turn at night. And I feel an enormous sense of relief when the conflict is resolved. So, in my own experience at least, conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And that leads us back to our Old Testament Lesson. Talk about conflict! But to understand it, we must back up a bit. In fact, we must back up quite a bit. We all know that Moses received the Ten Commandments atop Mt. Sinai. We all know that with the Ten Commandments in hand, Moses wandered with the people in the wilderness for forty years toward the Promised Land. But we might not all know what happened next. What happened next is that Moses died. Moses was succeeded by Joshua, who conquered the Promised land. And after that? The people settled onto the Promised Land. Since the people were comprised of twelve tribes they settled into the Promised Land accordingly. Each tribe deployed itself on a parcel of land. And they all lived happily ever after. Or not. Problems emerged in short order. The tribes did not get along. Surprise, surprise, the strong tribes picked on the weak ones. Why is it that at all times, and in all places, the strong pick on the weak? But that’s another question. Bottom line, there was disunity among the tribes. Beyond that, they were twelve tribes who each deployed itself on a parcel of land. But they were surrounded by enemies, enemies that had not been wandering around in the wilderness for the past 40 years. Enemies who were trained to fight. So, the people were threatened from within and from without. The closest thing that they had to a leader was Samuel, so they demanded of Samuel a king, a king to unify them and protect them from their enemies. Samuel listened to their demand and anointed King Saul. King Saul was the man of the hour. He was a standout. He stood head and shoulders above all others, was strikingly handsome, and teamed with charisma. He was clearly meant to be. So once again, they all lived happily ever after. Or not. There was something wrong with Saul. Now sometimes when there is something wrong with someone it’s obvious, it’s easy to name – as in the case with addiction, or physically abuse, or mental illness. But sometimes it’s not obvious. Ask twelve scholars what was wrong with Saul, you’ll get twelve different answers. For whatever reason, he proved not to be the stuff of it. He had some fatal flaw. Was it his temper? Was it his jealousy? Was it his paranoia? Was it his anger? Was it his desperation? Because all those things can prove to be fatal flaws. In that last analysis, it doesn’t matter what was wrong with King Saul – simply that there was something wrong with him. Predictably, those closest to him saw it first. But no one else was inclined to believe them. They believed what they wanted to believe, what was easiest to believe. And this is how it goes. The ones closest see it first, and no one is inclined to believe them. Moveover, they didn’t want to face the fact that King Saul was one big false start. But King Saul had some fatal flaw. And fatal flaws are fatal. King Saul deteriorated. It became increasingly difficult to deny. Conflict was brewing. It was not yet open conflict. Soon it would be and in terms too horrific to describe. But rumors were circulating. The atmosphere became charged, and not in a good way. Not one knew just how the thing would play out, but everyone sensed that it would not end well. And that brings us to our Old Testament Lesson. Samuel arrived in Bethlehem, unannounced, unexpected -- in full vestment and with full retinue. What did he want? Why did he single them out? What had they done wrong? Was he there to exact vengeance? In a spark would they all be dead? To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It is because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And so, the people approached Samuel with a question. It was the right question. It was the key question. It was the decisive question. It was this question: Do you come in peace? If you remember one thing about this passage, if you remember one thing about the whole book of Samuel, remember this question. Do you come in peace? Because the people’s question to Samuel is the people’s question to us. Do we come in peace? In the face of conflict do we come in peace? Do we come in peace, or do we come bearing blame for things for which we know we are full well complicit? Do we come in peace, or do we come exacting retribution demanding an eye for an eye? Do we come in peace, or do we come rehearsing old grievances, resentments, jealousies, and grudges? Do we come in peace, or do we come pressing our advantage -- power up, poised to defeat? Because the people’s question to us is also Christ’s question to us? Do we come in peace? Have we gone that extra mile for the one who has burdened us? Have we turned the other cheek? Have we declined to let the sun set on our anger? Have we made peace with our accusers? Do we come in peace? For Christ declares that the peacemakers would be blest, and that through them, but only through them, would his kingdom grow. Amen.
