Monday Morning in the Preacher’s Study
First thoughts about next Sunday’s sermon
(8thSunday after Pentecost, July 14, 2013)
Maylanne Maybee
Justice
and mercy, God and neighbour, are the broad themes of the lectionary for the
next three Sundays in July.
They
are also broad themes from our baptismal life, lived on a continuum from our
priestly vocation of worship – assigning true worth to God – and our diaconal
vocation of service to other, love of neighbour, care for the earth.
In
our first reading, we hear “the words of Amos”, a prophet who lived in the 8th
Century B.C.E., and along with Hosea, Micah, and Isaiah, revealed God as
defender of the poor. He spoke his
message during the reign of Jeroboam II who had built up Israel into an elitist
state of prosperity for the few at the cost of crushing poverty for the many. Amos is shown a vision of the Lord holding a
plumb line in his hand, a device used to determine whether a structure is
straight or “true”. The plumb line is
held alongside the plumb line of the wall of Israel and Israel does not measure
up.
The Hebrew translated as “plumb line” is obscure, and I prefer another interpretation: the Lord holds a piece of tin in his hand alongside a heap of tin used to build the wall. Tin, when combined with copper, makes bronze, a metal of weaponry and warfare. The Lord is preparing for a thunderous conflict with Israel and will no longer “pass over” or spare its people and king who have strayed far from the Deuteronomic standard of care and protection for the poor, the powerless, and the stranger.
The Hebrew translated as “plumb line” is obscure, and I prefer another interpretation: the Lord holds a piece of tin in his hand alongside a heap of tin used to build the wall. Tin, when combined with copper, makes bronze, a metal of weaponry and warfare. The Lord is preparing for a thunderous conflict with Israel and will no longer “pass over” or spare its people and king who have strayed far from the Deuteronomic standard of care and protection for the poor, the powerless, and the stranger.
Amaziah,
priest of Bethel, warns the king about Amos:
“The land is not able to bear all of his words.” Indeed, they are words spoken by one who has
nothing to lose, one who has made his living not as a professional, but as one
who herds livestock and tends fig trees, one who has seen the abundance of the
land and its exploitation by Jeroboam.
I
see the possibility of preaching a strong message about the use and
exploitation of our land through agribusiness or resource extraction – at the
expense of the poor and vulnerable, and at the expense of the land itself. There is opportunity here for a preacher to
speak of the prophets of our age who cry out for the land, whose words we can
scarcely bear: Joyce Carlson, Wendell Berry, David Suzuki.
It’s
a message that can be linked with and reinforced by the gospel reading for this
Sunday with its parable of the Good Samaritan – a story we know so well that we
risk missing its complexity and subtlety. A lawyer asks “who is my neighbour?” Jesus tells a parable of a man beaten by the
roadside, ignored and neglected by a priest and a Levite, and tended with mercy
by a stranger from Samaria who responds by pouring oil on his wounds and making
provisions for his long term care.
We
are accustomed to think of ourselves as the Samaritan Church, whose mission it
is to rescue and show mercy to those in distress regardless of race or
creed. And we have a fine record of
this. I remember well the story of an
Anglican Bishop from Pakistan who told how, in the aftermath of the devastating
earthquake of 2005, Moslems flocked to the local Christian church for aid,
knowing that they would not be turned away.
Yet
we are also a church that has been wounded - battered by decline in numbers,
income, and influence, and here in Canada by the legacy we bear of colonialism
and residential schools. Mary Jo Leddy,
in her book The Other Face of God: When the Stranger Calls Us Home (Orbis
Books, Maryknoll, NY 2011) reflects on Hugo Simberg’s painting, The Wounded Angel, as a variation on the
theme of the merciful Samaritan. She
suggests that the angel might be church itself. Like the two peasant boys who carry the
angel away from the city to a place of rest and healing, so the church is being
carried away from places of power and influence to live among the poor and be
healed. “It is those who are poor”,
writes Leddy, “who need, more than anyone, for the church to become good and
merciful again.” (p. 137)
Jesus
tells this parable in the context of setting his face to Jerusalem. Knowing what awaits him, he expands his
company of followers, and prepares them for conflict, teaching them how to
resist non-violently. He sends them
“like sheep among wolves”, without defence and without resources, at risk of
being beaten and left for dead like the unnamed man on the road to
Jericho. In a church that is re-awakening to its sense
of diakonia, to its sense of mission,
we might do well to remember our vulnerability as we travel through unfamiliar
territory. Our priests and prophets might
do well to help equip us for unexpected bends in the road.
Let
us thunder with Amos for a regime that shares the wealth of its land with the
poor. Let us dare with the Samaritan to
enter border territories and put ourselves at risk, both by offering mercy to ones
who least expect it from us, and receiving mercy from people and in places we
least expect. For the Kingdom of God is
revealed when the law of love is acted by unexpected people in unexpected ways
and places. Let us pay attention and be
changed.
Maylanne Maybee, a member of APLM
Council, is an Anglican deacon serving in the Diocese of Rupert’s Land. She is Principal of the Centre for Christian
Studies, a national theological school based in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, that
prepares women and men for ministry in the diaconal tradition of the Anglican
and United Churches.
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