Lectionary Lab PREMIUM Edition for the 8th and 9th Sundays after Pentecost, Year B
July 14 and 21st, 2024
Hey Team — this is one of those times in our season when things conspire to slow down the production of the Lectionary Lab. As we have shared many times, Delmer and I are just two working preachers with lives and families — kind of like all of y’all!
With that being said, we are sending out this double edition of our thoughts and sermons for two Sundays’ worth — and we just could not get our podcasting selves together due to circumstances (mostly) beyond our control. We do intend to be back in a couple of weeks. So, hang on — more “Bubbaness” will ensue shortly.
In the meantime, here’s what we’re thinking for these next two Sundays in the season after Pentecost:
Thinking the Texts by John Fairless
On this 8th Sunday after Pentecost (July 14), it is possible to think about “measuring up” to the standards of God. In the Samuel track, we have David leading the celebration of the return of the ark of God to the “city of David” — a site just outside Jerusalem proper — for which the king brought out his 30,000-man army and all the instruments he could find. Pretty big doin’s, including David dancing like nobody was watching, clothed only in his linen ephod. Unfortunately, his “gift wife”, Michal, who was Saul’s daughter, saw him and despised him. He just did not measure up in her eyes, and this is one of our first signs of trouble to come in the saga that will unfold.
[We do not read about the unfortunate way in which Uzzah failed to “measure up” to the proclaimed standard for ark bearers — and paid for his mistake with his life. Ouch!]
The plumb line of Amos is a classic illustration of God’s call to measure carefully the decisions one makes in living the life of faith. Delmer has an excellent exposition in the sermon below.
Paul writes to the Ephesians that God has a plan, a purpose, and will work in our lives for the praise of God’s own glory. There’s your three points right there!
Mark’s gospel gives us a bit of an interregnum account of John the Baptizer — explaining how he lost his head to an impassioned Herod, who was played pretty well by his brother’s-wife-turned-his-wife and her daughter. John’s preaching did not sit well with the ladies and, when the time came, they sought their revenge. What has this to do with the story of Jesus?
Jesus’ reputation is growing by the sixth chapter of Mark, and crowds are saying that Jesus’ works are a lot like the power John had in his preaching. By this time, John is already dead and they think maybe he has come back. This makes Herod pretty nervous, as he IS afraid of ghosts and doesn’t want anything to do with any potential revenge by John. Thus, we get the background to the story and set up further tension with Herod and Jesus to come later in the story. Makes sense (to Herod, at least) that if he can kill two prophets with one decree, maybe he can finally have some peace. Don’t think it’s going to work out that way, though.
As for the 9th Sunday after Pentecost (July 21), David gets a bit of comeuppance from the Lord when he deigns to “build a house for God.” God says that he doesn’t really need David to build a house and reminds David that God had raised him up out of a sheep pen — God can perfectly well raise a house anytime God needs one. Besides, God has other plans for David and will, instead, use David’s son to initiate said house. David is to keep his mind (and eyes?) on the prize — but that will prove a challenge very soon.
Jeremiah contrasts good shepherds and bad ones — and promises that God will, indeed, raise up good shepherds to watch over the people. Hang in there, those of the remnant; God will gather you all once again.
The Ephesians are reminded that they, as Gentiles, were once “far off” from God. Yet, God, in Christ, has brought them into the family, so to speak. God’s work of salvation, promised through Abraham long, long ago is now completed in Christ, who fits the promise to the Jews and the proffer for the Gentiles neatly together in Christ as the cornerstone.
Mark’s account has Jesus and the apostles, fresh from ministry success across the countryside, looking for some time to catch their breath and take a retreat. Alas, it was not to be, as they are all far too recognizable now. The people are coming from everywhere for healing, just hoping to touch the fringe of his garment (word has spread). And, by gosh, it seems that was all it took! Just how powerful is this faith in Christ thing that he didn’t even have to reach out and touch? Something awesome is brewing, indeed!
And Just for Fun
Get your groaners ready…
Did you hear about the fire in the shoe factory?
10,000 soles were lost. The police said some heels started it.
What kind of tea is hard to swallow?
Reality.
A man and a giraffe walk into a bar.
After a few drinks, the giraffe falls over and dies. The man begins to walk out when the bartender stops him.
“Hey, you can’t leave that lyin’ there!” The bartender yells out.
The man turns around: “It’s not a lion. It’s a giraffe.”
Sermons by Delmer Chilton
For July 14, 2024 (Amos 7:7-15; Mark 6:14-29)
I was about 8 or 9 years old when I learned what a plumb line was. It was spring and I helped my daddy build a tobacco barn. Well, half a barn really. There was already an old log curing barn on the spot and Daddy decided he needed more curing stalls. A regular barn had four. We added two more on the side of the old barn. I don’t recall everything about the process, I was mostly a “gofer” and a “hold dis”. “Go for” this or that thing I need; “Hold this still,” while I nail it in. One thing I clearly remember is a two-story high piece of binder twine suspended from a plank attached securely to the corner of the old barn. It was weighted down by a heavy tractor lug nut and ran from the end of the plank to the ground. It was Daddy’s version of a plumb line; placed there so he could make a square and straight corner with the concrete blocks he was laying as the foundation of the half-barn.
As a farmer, “a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees,” the prophet Amos was familiar with plumb lines. It is probable that he had used them often to build barns and sheds on his own property. He used the image of a “plumb line” in his quite frightening message to the leaders of Israel.
Before we get into that message, let’s think a moment about why buildings need to be built square and straight. It is not merely for aesthetics, not simply so they look good. In fact, being carefully squared off is no guarantee that a building will look good. I make a habit of taking pictures of ugly church buildings. Most of them are solidly built, unlikely to fall down or spring a leak – which in their case is unfortunate. No, being squared off is a matter of stability, of being built on a solid foundation and of not leaning this way and that, which leads to all sorts of problems in a building.
When Amos uses the image of the plumb line, he is saying that the leaders, the king, and the priests at the king’s sanctuary are not square and straight, they are out of line, and will soon fall. It is the same image as when we say that dishonest politicians and leaders are “crooked.” It is an indictment of people who have failed in their calling to serve the public and have begun to serve only themselves.
In the reading from Amos, the reaction of Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, is interesting. He doesn’t dispute what Amos is saying. Instead, he questions his right to say it and warns him that the king will not tolerate such opposition. Amos preached at a time when the previous kingdom of Saul and David and Solomon had become divided into a Northern Kingdom called Israel, and Southern Kingdom called Judah. Amos was from the south, from Judah. Bethel was the sanctuary of the king of the Northern Kingdom. Amaziah says, “Go on home, preach to your own king. You have no business here. This is the king’s sanctuary – you can’t preach against the king in his own house of worship!”
Amos’ response was to say, “Hey I’m no professional prophet. I’m not in this for the money ‘earn my bread.’ I’m just a farmer, and believe you me, I’d rather be back in Judah minding my own business. I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because God said I had to come here and say these things. Who am I to defy God?”
Amos was not the first or last prophet of God to stand in opposition to worldly powers, nor was he the last to be told to sit down and mind his own business. Our Gospel lesson tells the story of the death of John the Baptist. He had not only called on the common people to repent and be baptized – he also preached that the king should also repent, not just of his general sinful nature, but also of the quite specific sin of having a notoriously immoral relationship with his brother’s ex-wife. The woman in question was very angry about his and wanted John killed. Her husband the King was reluctant, but he did have him arrested and put in prison. This was not enough for Herodias, and when her husband Herod made a rash promise to her daughter, she pounced, ending up with John the Baptist’s head on a platter.
Amos was run off; John the Baptist was executed; there doesn’t seem to be much future in the “standing up to tyrants’ business” – especially not for non-violent preachers with no guns or ramies to back them up. In this very volatile political season, what is it that the church can learn from these stories from long ago and far away? As Dr. Hoefler, the preaching professor at the Lutheran Seminary in South Carolina used to say, “Where is the gospel, the good news, in here?’
Well, one bit of good news is that we are reminded once again not to confuse the state with the church, the present government under which we live with the eternal Kingdom of God for which we wait. As both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures point out, we live under earthly governments, and we are to be faithful citizens as long as that citizenship does not put us in conflict with our more important citizenship in God’s eternal kingdom. There is an old gospel song that says, “this world is not my home,” a reminder that all of us have a higher calling to serve God above human leaders.
Things are quite likely to get hotter and hotter as we draw closer and closer to Election Day in November. Each of us has the right to have and express our political opinions. But the scriptures remind us of the limitations of all earthly power and call us to keep things in proper perspective. Our membership in, and relationship with the other members of, the eternal Body of Christ is much more lasting and important than any temporary and fleeting commitment we may have to this or that political leader, party, or program. The Good news in that is this – some of us are wrong about politics, wrong about which person should be, or will be, elected to this or that public office. And that’s all right. Because - right or wrong, whoever we elect won’t be in that office for long, whatever they do will eventually fade away. But the love of God in Christ for each and every one of us will last forever.
So, let us do our best to hold up a plumb line of truth, justice, and compassion to the political questions of our day and vote our conscience, accordingly, seeking to do the right thing for as many people as possible for as long as possible. But let us also hold up that plumb line in a spirit of love, seeking to in all that we do and say to reflect the master whom we serve.
AMEN and AMEN.
For July 21, 2024 (Mark 6:30-34, 53 -56)
The world is often a difficult and dangerous place. And as comforting as it is to believe that there is a kind God off there somewhere in Heaven who loves us, and cares about us, and has a plan for our lives; sometimes you need somebody to talk to who will talk back. That's why people flocked to Jesus. Sure there were those who had heard about his miracles and just wanted to see a good show. And there were those who were there just because everybody else was there. It’s like the Friday night high school football games in the small-town south. I used to sit in the stands and listen to women talk about church and teen-agers talk about who's dating whom.
One night the Methodist preacher told me where to sit. He said, "This is the section for the football fans. The other people are just here because everybody else in town is here." So, in the people who followed Jesus, there were the thrill seekers and the crowd seekers, but there were also the God seekers, those who had heard about Jesus; had heard about his words and his actions and had come to catch a glimpse of the Holy.
Jesus and the apostles had been really busy and really needed a break. So Jesus said, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." They were going on retreat, on vacation, on holiday. But it was not to be. By the time they got where they were going, a crowd had gathered. Jesus looked at them and weighed his own and his companions' weariness against something he saw in the faces turned up at him, something in the crowd’s eyes. What was it that swayed Jesus to give up the plan to rest? I think he looked at them and saw their hunger. Not a hunger for food, but a hunger for companion-ship, a hunger for community, a hunger for love, a hunger for God.
Verse 34 says, "he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd." Compassion literally means "to feel with." Jesus felt compassion for them because he had felt what they were feeling. After Jesus’ Baptism, the Spirit drove him into the Wilderness to be tempted by the Devil. There he learned what it feels like to be abandoned, deserted, alone in the universe. He also learned what one does and does not need in a time like that. One of his temptations was to feed the world by turning stone into bread.
There in the wilderness, Jesus realized that fixing every human hurt was not to be his mission. People didn't need a Superman jumping to their rescue. People needed to know that God was in the world with them, not off in heaven above and beyond them. People needed to know that God cared, and that God wanted them to care, and to act with caring as well.
There in the desert, Jesus came to a momentous decision; he would purposely withhold his power, restrain himself. Throughout his ministry opportunities for healings came to Jesus, but he didn’t go looking for them. Every time he worked a miracle it happened because of those three little words; he had compassion. It’s interesting to me how many people don’t believe that; don’t believe that God is love, that God is forgiving, and kind, and merciful. Too many people in the world believe that God is anxious to send us all to Hell, that God has plans to send holy warriors to earth to wipe out the evil doers in a grand final battle. If you don’t think a lot of people believe that, check out the popularity of the Left Behind series of novels.
That he had compassion is the most important thing we can say about Jesus, and about God. In the midst of a world in which everyone is afraid of their own shadows, and, if they believe in God at all, they believe God to be either remote and uncaring, or cruel and vindictive; we in the church have been called to witness to the fact that he had compassion.
Sisters and brothers, we live today in a world full of fear and war. We are afraid of rising prices, we are afraid of failing health care systems, we are afraid of immigration, and disease, and forest fires, and war, and drugs, and, and, and . . .
This country, and indeed the world, is depressed, and sad, and frightened, and on edge about the future. And into this bog of sadness and sorrow, we the church are called to imitate our Lord and find ways to break into the cycle of fear and violence with words and acts of hope and assurance, words and acts of compassion and healing.
Now, that is a mighty tall order isn’t it? What can one little church do? What can one little Christian do? In the face of all this hurt and pain, who am I? Those must have been the sorts of questions a little Albanian nun asked herself over 50 years ago when she found herself in Calcutta, one of the worst and most hopeless places in the world. And what she decided to do was to do what Jesus did in our story, she had compassion on the ones right in front of her. She dealt with the need she was given and did what she could. She began to pick up the dying beggars off the streets of Calcutta and to give them a decent place to die. That was it. She washed their wounds and wiped their bottoms, she cleaned their sheets and emptied their latrines. She fed them, and bathed them, and turned them on their pallets when no one else would touch them. She had compassion, one dying person at a time.
We are called to have compassion, to preach compassion, to teach compassion, to live compassion. We are called to break whatever rules and taboos and cultural barriers necessary to let the world know God is not harsh, God is not out to get us, God is not punishing us for our sins. God is love, God is steadfast, everlasting, never-ending love. God is reaching out into the midst of our fear of death with an offer of life, of life eternal. He had compassion. Jesus had compassion then, and God in Christ has compassion now. Open up your hearts and let God love you. Open up your arms and show God’s love to the world.
AMEN AND AMEN.