Jubilee

“Do not take advantage of one another, but fear your God.  I am the Lord your God.”  (Leviticus 25:17)

You have probably read about the man who hoarded over 17,000 bottles of hand sanitizer in anticipation of heightened demand at the onset of the coronavirus.  When Amazon halted his attempt to sell bottles at elevated prices he was left wondering what to do with not only sanitizers but also other items he had purchased in bulk in anticipation of high demand.  He gave no indication that he felt sorry for his attempts to gouge buyers for the products he had purchased.  Aside from the fact that what he did at the micro-economic level is multiplied by others at the macro-level (futures investors, short sellers, hedge fund managers, etc.), I am left wondering how he can live with such an empty sense of conscience.

Admittedly, I have a hyper-developed sense of guilt which I have spent a lifetime trying to overcome.  Gratefully, I have made great strides in overcoming childhood shame and the neurotic guilt which can be so debilitating.  Still, there is a role for a healthy sense of guilt.  While there are many things I no longer feel guilty about, there are some things about which one should feel guilty - both sins of omission and commission -   hoarding much needed health supplies and squeezing unethical profits from them being but one example.  

The verse from Leviticus with which I open this blog encourages us not to take advantage of one another - a fitting instruction for Christian people, indeed, for anyone.  Like the Golden Rule, even non-Christians seem ready to see the good of this advice.  And in the present crisis of the coronavirus contagion, not taking advantage of one another - doing unto others as we would have them do unto us - seems like the better way forward.

The verse from Leviticus Chapter 25 is located in a body of instruction on the Year of Jubilee, a kind of super sabbath to be observed every fifty years.  The intent of the Jubilee year was to provide a great economic equalizer across society so that everyone could start afresh - wiping the slate clean so that people could have a new start.  Debts would be cancelled.  Slaves set free.  Property would be returned to ancestral owners.  The intent of Jubilee was justice, giving everyone a fair shake.  

Consider what might happen in semi-nomadic, agricultural society like that of ancient Israel.  In some places, some years, the crops do poorly.  The land owner has to borrow money, or perhaps sell some land, in order to make ends meet.  And if the misfortune continues, that land owner may have to sell everything, becoming an indentured servant, or slave, in order to provide for his family.  While this may seem an unlikely scenario, it does illustrate what can happen over the course of generations, especially if people “take advantage” of one another.

The present health crisis is creating an economic crisis as well.  Millions of workers are losing jobs.  Many small businesses will fail.  But some niche businesses will thrive.  Some corporations will lose millions while others will flourish.  Even now there are companies ready to hire thousands of workers.  The coronavirus is creating an unprecedented shift in our economy.  Many will suffer.  Many will thrive.  And I wonder if the Year of Jubilee can offer a model for how we might handle the sudden changes in our economy.

Can debts be forgiven?  What does it mean in the coming days for “slaves to be set free”?  After the dust settles, will there be an opportunity for people to make a fresh start, unencumbered by their losses?  What will it mean in the next years for us to “not take advantage of one another”?  What will justice look like?  

What if everyone started over again from scratch?  

I don’t see that happening, of course, but the Year of Jubilee is a good corrective on the view of capitalism that believes “win at all costs” is the only thing that matters.  Now is the time for a more humane approach, a more just solution to the human suffering that is now taking place for millions of people.  The Year of Jubilee reminds hand sanitizer hoarders not to engage in price gouging.  The Year of Jubilee judges Wall Street financiers who profit from national disasters.  The Year of Jubilee creates a society of people who will not take advantage of one another.  May we soon have reason to celebrate the end of the spread of the coronavirus so that we might shout, “Hallelujah!”  And as we deal with the long-term economic consequences of the outbreak of COVID-19 may we have reason to shout, “Jubilee!”   

The Prophetic Risk

It is Sunday evening and I’m thinking about the risk I took this morning, hoping it was worth it.  I spoke a prophetic word to the people of God who gather each Sunday at the church I serve.

When I say, “prophetic,” don’t make the common mistake of assuming that I was predicting future events.  Contrary to the misconceptions of many, Biblical prophecy is not concerned about predictions but with addressing the injustices (and idolatry) committed by God’s people and calling them to account.  The basic Biblical plot which occasions the rise of prophets is as follows:

            God makes a covenant with the people.

            The people break the covenant.

            God sends prophets to call the people back to the covenant.

            The people repent (change their wicked ways), or not!

Today I questioned whether the elected leaders of the state of North Carolina were keeping covenant.  Psalm 72 prays for the king to act with God’s justice toward the weak and the needy.  The Gospel of Luke recounts the words of Jesus, “Blest are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”  Jesus’ final parable in the Gospel of Matthew implies that the nations will be judged by the way we treat the least of these.  Keeping God’s covenant carries with it an obligation for those with power to care for the poor.  In today’s political climate of budget slashing, I perceive that the axe cutting government services is falling sharpest on those who can afford it the least.  If I am right in this perception, then this is contrary to God’s covenant.

The risk of speaking as a prophet is that I may offend someone’s political sensibilities.  In doing so, I cause a division in my congregation and I regret that.  I am by nature a pastor, someone who wants to offer care and compassion to people, to overcome differences and bring people together in unity.  I am by calling a preacher, specializing in a message of grace whose sermons are generally appreciated by most.  I like to proclaim good news that makes everyone feel good!

But there is a line in Luke’s Gospel (6:26), right there in the midst of “Blest are you poor,” which says, “Beware when all speak well of you.”  I have always been haunted by those words.  They are a caution to me not to retreat into the comfortable role of pastoral preacher.  Sometimes God requires a preacher to be a prophet.  Elijah was a thorn in King Ahab’s side (1 Kings 18:17).  So much so that Ahab said one day, “Is it you, you disturber of Israel?”  As the old cliché goes --- sometimes the preacher comforts the disturbed, but sometimes one must disturb the comfortable.  Ahab needed to be disturbed. 

If anyone was disturbed by what I said today, I hope they will nevertheless hang with me for a while – engage me in dialogue, or even challenge me.  Perhaps they will also challenge themselves.  If we fail to hang together in church, disagreeing with mutual respect, then I don’t see much hope for our present societal impasse where politicians refuse to meet in the middle. 

Today I spoke as a prophet.  I was uncomfortable.  What do you know . . . maybe I’m the one who needed to be disturbed? 

Who Deserves Health Care?

Here’s a question:  Does every sick person deserve to be treated for their illness?  Seems rather heartless to say, “no.”   But if we say “yes,” and the person who is sick cannot afford care, who is going to pay for it?  The answer to that question is as complicated as Obamacare and the accompanying political drama.

Still, I am interested in the whole question of who deserves care and who doesn’t.  As U.S. citizens we believe in “justice and liberty for all,” and doesn’t a just society require that we provide care?  Would care be for citizens only?  Or does “justice . . . for all,” imply a broader interpretation? 

Who deserves care?  Who is worthy?

Some esteemed members of the synagogue in Capernaum came to Jesus one day asking him to heal the ailing servant of a local Roman officer (Luke 7:1-10).  Romans were Gentiles, considered unclean by Jewish law and custom and thus excluded from Jewish worship and community.  However, these Jewish elders who approach Jesus assure him that this particular Roman is “worthy,” or deserving, of Jesus’ attention because he paid for the construction of the synagogue.  Well, isn’t that the way we usually measure who deserves our attention? 

I suspect that Jesus responds to their request regardless of the worthiness of the Roman officer but because Jesus is a man who provides healing, not because people deserve it, but because he is compassionate (Matthew 9:36).  And followers of Jesus are to be compassionate, too.  We are called to respond to people in need, regardless of our perception of what they deserve. 

I know we have to consider the cost of care.  No society can function without counting the cost of services that it provides.  But if we cut services to people who need medical care can we continue to call ourselves a just society? 

I have to let other people do the math.  In lean times governments need to set budget priorities.  I simply raise the issue because I believe our priorities should be guided by compassion.  And I believe Jesus continues to offer us a perspective on what compassion looks like.

On another occasion (Luke 8:40-56), another esteemed Jewish leader asked Jesus to come heal his twelve-year old daughter who was at the precipice of death.  Surely this man was deserving of Jesus’ attention.  But on the way, a woman on the fringes of society who had, because of her illness, been ritually unclean for the same number of years as the little girl had been alive, approached Jesus for healing.  She had been ostracized by her disease.  Her society judged her unworthy and undeserving of human attention, and unlike the Roman officer of the previous story, she had not paid for a synagogue.  But Jesus delayed his visit to the home of the deserving Jewish leader in order to heal and affirm this “undeserving” woman.

Care should not be based on what we deserve.  Care should be based on compassion.  I pray that both Democrats and Republicans will get their priorities straight.  We deserve no less from our elected officials.   

In Search of Community

          Times are hard.  I write this the same week that the Dow Jones average has hit new highs.  Several weeks ago I learned that the sale of Rolls Royce automobiles has grown the last few years.  Apparently times are not hard for everybody.

          My mother’s family were farmers.  In fact, my cousin Charles and his son still run a small dairy farm in Rowan County.  There’s nothing quite like the taste of sweet milk fresh from the cow.  Those white liquids we buy in cartons from the grocery store are a pale imitation of the real thing. 

          Wendell Berry writes poetically about farming, and farming communities – a way of life that is passing from us.  But in those farming communities there is a richness to life, largely because of relationships.  Farming communities once thrived because of interdependence.  Farmers helped each other get in each other’s crops.  Farmers shared wisdom about when and where to plant.  Farming communities tended to each other’s livestock, cared for each other’s sick, and watched and corrected each other’s children.  The wealth of a farmer was in the abundance of his relationships, not in the balance of his savings account.

          The flow of modernity has been toward greater isolation of people from each other, and the severing of those interdependent relationships which nurture community.  We have been fed a lie that we will be happier if we don’t need anyone else but ourselves.  So, the square footage of our homes has grown significantly, while the number of people in those homes has dramatically decreased.  Even in our homes, families are separated, each having a TV in his or her bedroom so that we can be further isolated from one another.  Or we can be disconnected to each other in the same room, our attention glued to our electronic devices.  Even farmers have become less dependent on each other, and more reliant on their machines.  The rise of the factory farm has led to diminished communities.  And in our growing isolation from each other, we know and care less about each other – particularly about the poor.

          My concern is that the less we see and relate to the poor, the less likely we are to see them as people like ourselves.  Instead of seeing them as “people who happen to be poor,” we tend to see them as a demographic statistic, a stereotype of who they really are, and the easier it becomes to ignore them, as in the Biblical parable of Lazarus at the gate.

          Why should you care?  The Dow is rising.  Why not get ours while the getting is good?  Well, a Rolls Royce may be a nice ride but it is a poor substitute for friendship.  As I learned from an African proverb recently, “How can any one of us be happy if any one of us is sad?”

There is an ethical and moral imperative to care for the poor.  But it seems to me that the reason we should care is not so much to fulfill our sense of obligation to some duty, but so that we might become more human.  Our sense of community is diminished when everyone looks, acts, and thinks like us.  We are enriched by relationships with others, maybe especially those who are not in our socio-economic circle. 

          Jesus says something about inviting people to dinner who don’t have the means to reciprocate.  That might be a good way to begin rebuilding communities that are rich and diverse.  There’s nothing quite like a good meal to help build relationships. 

         

           

         

Only the Good Die Young

          Spoiler Alert!  She was innocent and idealistic.  She was courageous and adventurous.  She was compassionate and true to her convictions.  And they killed her off.  I’m referring to Sybil, the Earl of Grantham’s daughter, and wife to Tom, “the chauffer,” as he is called by the Dowager Countess.  If you are clueless at this point let me explain that these are all characters in the wildly popular Masterpiece Theater drama, “Downton Abbey,” an “Upstairs, Downstairs,” kind of British soap opera which is in its third season on local public TV stations.

          Sybil was my wife’s favorite character in this drama which has seduced us.  The dynamics of relationships between the downstairs servants and the upper crust nobles who reside in the sprawling environs of the Abbey continue to compel our viewing in a way no American drama seems able to do.  When Sybil died in childbirth last night we were shocked.  My wife is in mourning.  It’s almost as if we feel the need to attend the funeral. 

          Mostly, Sybil’s death struck me because it seemed unfair.  There are so many flawed characters in the show, some just foolish, others despicable.  Why couldn’t have they killed off one of the more dislikable crew?  I suppose that wicked characters help the plot move along in interesting ways.  But there seems to be so much injustice in the world, I suppose I would like my TV entertainment to pamper me at least with the illusion of justice.

          Something within us hungers for justice.  My wife remembers in childhood reacting to parental decisions by yelling out, “I protest!”  I remember our daughter having a keen sense of justice growing up.  In an upside down world we yearn for things to be right side up – for the poor to have dignity, for the good to thrive, for the wicked to perish.

          I am grateful that I can still feel the outrage of Sybil’s death, even if it is all a fiction.  The sense of outrage makes me realize that I have not become numb to injustice.  When there is so much out of balance in our world and the wicked seem to thrive it is tempting to cave in – to throw in the towel and give up our integrity.  The fact that any of us can still feel anger about something that strikes us as wrong gives me hope that maybe we’ll do something about it.  I think it was Martin Luther King, Jr., who said, “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for the good people of the world to do nothing.” 

          I can’t do much with the scriptwriters of “Downton Abbey,” and their decision to end Sybil’s role in the drama, but I can allow my anger to lead me to thoughtful action in response to real injustices I witness in the world around me.  Such anger might be called righteous.  Be grateful if you still can still feel it.  

          

The Calm Between Storms

I’m breathing a sigh of relief, thankful for the silence and solitude.  For two days now there have been no robocalls attempting to scare, manipulate, intimidate, or influence me to vote one way or another.  The TV is back to showing innocuous commercials about cars, shampoo, and beer --- no voice of doom warning me what might happen if one or the other candidate gets elected.  The difference in my mood is measureable.  Ahhhh.

I know the rancor of politics is not over but I’m appreciating this momentary lull, where winners and losers are for the most part being conciliatory.  The storms will return, of course, as surely as hurricane season brings its parade of tropical depressions; some, like Sandy, do build up to pack a wallop.  I know there looms on the horizon the “fiscal cliff,” and there will definitely be political conflict about what to do about it --- this is the way democracy works.  God bless America.

I am a citizen of the United States, and glad of it.  But I was born in Brazil to missionary parents and so I am considered a citizen of Brazil, also.  I have two passports.  I am proud of my Brazilian connection but I pledge allegiance to the Red, White and Blue rather than the Blue, Yellow and Green.  Still, I often feel like a stranger, no matter where I happen to be. 

One of the reasons for my sense of strangeness is the fact that our family moved around every four years or so.  I have never had a place that I call home, and so I often feel like a resident alien in whatever town I happen to be living in at the moment.  I have often wondered what it would be like to have been in one place for decades.  For me it is hard to imagine that kind of longevity anywhere.

But there is another reason for my rootlessness.  I belong to yet another country.  I have only seen it in my spiritual imagination as I have reflected on the Biblical witness of Jesus and the prophets.  The parables Jesus tells about the kingdom, and the pictures painted by the prophetic voices have taken hold of me and made me long for the country where God reigns, and I am restless until and unless I reside there.  Sometimes I have felt myself already there, when I have received kindness from strangers, seen enemies embrace, or witnessed forgiveness enfleshed.  I felt myself to be in that country this week as I shared coffee, donuts and deep conversation with African-American pastors as we empathized with each other in our common desire for justice and reconciliation. 

But most of the time I sense that there is a better country than this one and God has put a longing in my heart that cannot be satisfied with things as they are.

Still, I’m not just passing through.  I make my home where I am, and I look for God’s country in every face I see, and in everything I try to do.  And right now, in this quiet space and time, it feels more like home than usual.  And until the next storm comes I think I’ll just enjoy it.  

Why Jesus?

Why Jesus? 

Because he came that we might have “life to the full” (John 10:10).

Because he took time to honor children, “unless you become as a child you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3).

Because he refused to condemn those we think are dishonorable, “let the one who is without sin cast the first stone” (John 8:7).

Because he had compassion for people, “when he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36).

Because he could see the greatness that lived in small things, “it is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade” (Mark 4:31-32).

Because he proclaimed good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovering of sight for the blind, and liberty for the oppressed (Luke 4:18).

Because he ushered in a kingdom of justice and equity, “he hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree” (Luke 1:52).

Because he offered forgiveness infinitely, “seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:22).

Because he demanded everything, “take up your cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

Because he gave everything he demanded, “’it is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit” (John 19:30).

I could go on, but I encourage you to make your own list.  I mean no disrespect to other religious traditions.  Nor do I deny the grievous errors and flaws of the historic church and so-called Christian voices out there today who make me weep with their distortions of Jesus’ message.  But still, I believe that Jesus remains the last, best hope for humankind.  If we’ll just listen, take up our cross daily, and follow him.

Righteousness Is Out of Fashion

You never hear the word “righteous” anymore. I’m not talking about its use a decade ago, describing something as “cool” (“The paint job on that car is righteous!”). I suppose the word was used a generation ago in churches to describe moral, upstanding behavior on the part of the Christian believer (You Bible scholars think of James 5:16, “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much”).

Still, I wonder if the use of the word in the previous generation had the same connotation as its original intent. When Jesus said at his baptism, “Thus it is fitting to fulfill all righteousness,” I don’t think he was talking about moral, upstanding behavior. He was thinking of more than a standard of individual conduct, he had in mind the will and purposes of God. There was a time when we thought righteousness had more to do with purity of life than anything else (“I don’t smoke and I don’t chew, and I don’t go out with girls that do”). Righteous seemed to be more about what we didn’t do than what we did. Nowadays I’m not sure that even Christians understand what is meant by the word righteous.

One place to begin our quest for understanding is the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5-7. In the midst of this collection of Jesus’ sayings, we find him like a reborn Moses, issuing a reinterpretation of Mosaic Law. “You’ve heard it said . . . BUT, I say to you . . .” He pronounces blessings on those who “hunger and thirst for righteousness,” and he helps us set priorities, “Seek first the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness.” Matthew portrays Jesus as being especially concerned about this righteousness, whatever it is.

Eugene Peterson in The Message, interprets that “seek ye first,” phrase as, “pay attention to what God is doing.” I like that. Righteousness as attentiveness to what God is doing. That seems to be the right order of things. Instead of righteousness being a standard of behavior for me to follow, it is, rather, a call to tune in to the activity of God. God’s activity is prior to my activity. And attentiveness is both an act of will and an alertness of body. If I’m paying attention, like a runner at the blocks waiting for the starting gun to go off, I’m more than ready to do something. I’m not just thinking about it. I’m not just looking on as an observer. But I wait for the right cue before I dash off.

Maybe righteousness will come back in fashion when we start paying more attention to what God is doing, instead of obsessing about what we’re going to do next. What is God doing these days? Well, I think God is doing what God has always been doing – turning the world right side up. Look for calamity, catastrophe and suffering, and when in the midst of it all, you see goodness, kindness, peace and justice, there is God’s kingdom of righteousness. I pray it does come back into fashion. Wouldn’t that be righteous?

I have more I want to say about righteousness, but I’m not sure what it is yet. I’m just waiting for the gun to go off.