The "sorry people," then and now

Recently, while watching an episode of the classic western Bonanza, I was reminded of just how far our society has not come since the innocent days of early television. For both its genre and its era, Bonanza was about as socially progressive as a program could be. That does not mean, however, that it would get high marks from today's political and cultural elites. This particular episode was a case in point. Hoss, the physically imposing but bighearted middle brother of the Carwright clan, helps a diminutive ne'er-do-well named Jock get a job as an assistant tax assessor. Thrilled at the prospect of making a decent living for the first time in his life, Jock dives into his new job with gusto, wildly over-assessing local properties, beginning with the Cartwrights' beloved Pondersosa ranch. 

As might be expected, the over-zealous taxman's activities send the townsfolk into a rage. Things come to a head when the women of Virginia City chase Jock back to his run-down home and are dissuaded from lynching him only out of sympathy for his pregnant wife.

Seeking to prevent any further damage, the Cartwrights hold a family conference. Since he feels the whole situation is his fault, Hoss offers to handle it himself. Ben, the wise patriarch, discourages this and says the family should work things out together. "The trouble with Jock is, he's one of the sorry people," Ben observes. That, of course, is a line which could never pass muster in today's hyper-sensitive media culture. 

The "sorry people," as Ben explains, are people who are content to be shiftless and idle. "The main trouble with the sorry people, though," Ben continues, "is if someone throws a little prosperity their way or a little authority . . . they become obnoxious."

Ultimately, the Cartwrights outsmart this pitiful soul by exploiting his weakness for gambling. They trick him into betting "two years' salary" on a horse they know will lose but Jock is convinced will win. After the inevitable happens, Ben tells Jock that since "two years' salary" was a non-specific amount, Jock will owe him nothing if he quits his job and returns home to his wife and newborn baby.

The problem this episode would pose for today's political and cultural elites, most notably the current occupant of the White House, is that it would hit too close to home. Who are today's "sorry people" if not those who have accomplished next to nothing but believe they are entitled to everything? It is not altogether cynical to say that these are sorry times for our nation because the "sorry people" have been given authority and have, characteristically, become quite obnoxious.

Through many tribulations

Paul and Barnabas in Lystra

Those who say the church will not have to endure tribulation are not careful readers of Scripture. Paul and Barnabas told the disciples in Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch that it is "through many tribulations" that "we must enter the kingdom of God." Paul knew this all too well, having been stoned and left for dead during his first visit to Lystra.

There is an old saying that "you have to go through hell before you get to heaven." This is not, however, what Paul and Barnabas meant when they said "that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God." Entering the kingdom of God does not simply mean going to heaven when we die. There is the promise of rest for those who have persevered and finished their course of faith on earth, but there is also a sense in which "the kingdom of God" is already present even in the midst of "may tribulations."

The grace to persevere under trial, to keep focused on that ultimate destination, is itself a gift from God to the faithful. Through the example of suffering, the faithful bear witness to the in-breaking of the kingdom of God upon the kingdom of this world. As Jesus suffered before entering into glory, so the church shares with him in his suffering in order that she might share also with him in his glory. The kingdom of God is present in both the suffering of this life and the glory of the life to come.

The "many tribulations" which the faithful must endure are the birth pains of the new creation. The seed of the kingdom is there, planted and taking root, but the germination process will often be difficult. The sun may seem, at time, unbearably hot; the wind, intolerably strong; the storm, unceasing. Through it all, however, is the abiding, personal presence of of him who endured it all for the sake of his chosen ones. When those "many tribulations" seem intense and impossible to endure, it is his voice we hear, saying, "Peace. Be still."

Where Christ is, there his kingdom begins.

Having the mind of Christ in the body of Christ

It is amusing to hear modern (not to mention, post-modern) interpreters attempting to dodge the obvious meaning of Paul's exhortation to the Philippians to "make my joy complete by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind" (Philippians 2.2). Surely, Paul does not mean to squelch diversity of opinion, does he?

In one very real sense, the answer is yes. If by "diversity of opinion" is meant disagreement over the Person of Jesus Christ and his authority in the church, there can be no such diversity. If the church is one the body of Christ, it must also have the mind of Christ. When there is disagreement over the nature of Christ, then the church has become merely a collection of flawed, opinionated individuals, not the body of Christ.

What, then, would a church that is truly "of one mind" look like? Paul, not surprisingly, points to the example of Christ.

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2.5-8)

To be "of one mind" is to "have this mind among yourselves which is yours in Christ Jesus." It is a mind set not on selfish interests, but in laying aside the self in the interest of others. It is the mind which "in humility count[s] others more significant than yourself" (2.3). To be "of one mind," and that being the mind "which is yours in Christ Jesus," is to be trained on one purpose: to be Christ for the sake of others.

But that is not the end of the story. For his act of selflessness, humbling himself to the most humbling kind of death, Christ has been raised to the highest of heights.

Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.(Philippians 2.9-11)

Those who share in Christ's self-giving will also share with him in the glory of his eternal kingdom, where he reigns at the Father's right hand. As Jesus himself said, everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.

Yesterday's Inspiration: The naked preacher

On days like these, when I have nothing particularly on my mind to write about, I am tempted to "go to the well," that is, to dig out some previously written piece, polish it up here and there, and post it here. Well (pardon the pun), that's what you're about to read here. I wrote down most of these thoughts about five years ago. When I go back and read some of the articles I wrote or some of the sermons I preached back then, I am amazed at how naive I was, how incomplete my grasp of this or that subject was, and how utterly foolish I was to think I was qualified to speak or write about it.

Preaching is, in many respects, a form of low comedy and preachers are the world's worst comedians. Every Sunday (or, in my case these days, every Monday and Wednesday), we stand in the pulpit and presume to speak, using the finite language of an imperfect humanity, on behalf of an infinitely perfect God. We wear fancy robes and seat ourselves on a platform exalted above the people in the pews. I seem to recall Jesus warning the people to beware of those who wrapped themselves in such regalia and took the best seats in the house. Even more intimidating is the mandate of Exodus 20.26, "And you shall not go up by steps to my altar, that your nakedness be not exposed on it."

Perhaps that is why we wear robes. But does this not suggest that the preacher is more naked than the parishioner? After all, the parishioner is neither robed nor seated on a high platform. It is the preacher who stands in the pulpit, robed in a splendor which usually speaks more of academic than of spiritual achievement, and declares, "Thus says the Lord!"

Here is the punch line to this most magnificent joke. The preacher is the most naked of all. Yet God, in his infinite mercy and grace, somehow uses the inadequate and often presumptuous words of a common sinner to clothe the naked with a measure of heavenly splendor and feed the hungry with the bread of life.

When the Cross Becomes an Insult

There is a definite contemporary parallel to the Ephesian reaction to Paul and the preaching of Christ crucified (Acts 19:21-41). The opposition in Ephesus comes not from Jews, but from Gentile craftsmen, led by Demetrius, who are "worshipers" of the pagan goddess Artemis. But their opposition to Paul is not driven by religious devotion, but by money. Paul's preaching is seen by them simply as a threat to their business enterprise. That the cult of Artemis might be displaced is of only secondary concern to those whose livelihood depends on the silver shrines they make with their hands.

Professional salesmen that they are, Demetrius and company bamboozle the Ephesians into joining their hypocritical mantra, "Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" It is no wonder the city is "filled with confusion" (v. 29). The ensuing riot is all the product of the craftsmen's cynical concern about the future of their business.

Manipulating the masses is nothing new, as this passage demonstrates. We have seen examples most recently in the Islamic world as demagogic "spiritual leaders" stir up rioting crowds to shout vacuous mantras and demand retribution against all who "insult" their prophet. The message of the cross remains an insult to every culture founded on belief in a lie. For the message of the cross exposes every lie and subjects it to the penetrating light of the truth that is Jesus Christ.

The Preacher's Mistake

The parish priest
Of Austerity,
Climbed up in a high church steeple
To be nearer to God,
So that he might hand
His word down to His people.
When the sun was high,
When the sun was low,
The good man sat unheeding
Sublunary things.
From transcendency
Was he forever reading
And now and again
When he heard the creak
Of the weather vane a-turning,
He closed his eyes
And said, "Of a truth
From God I now am learning."
And in sermon script
He daily wrote
What he thought was sent from heaven,
And he dropped this down
On his people's heads
Two times one day in seven.
In his age God said,
"Come down and die!"
And he cried out from the steeple,
"Where art thou, Lord?"
And the Lord replied,
"Down here among my people."

--Brewer Mattocks

And Another Thing. . .

I have never met an "ardent, practicing Catholic" who had to tell me he or she was an "ardent, practicing Catholic."

The Naked Preacher

Preaching is, in many respects, a form of low comedy and preachers are the world's worst comedians. Every Sunday we stand in the pulpit and presume to speak, using the finite language of an imperfect humanity, on behalf of an infinitely perfect God. We wear fancy robes and seat ourselves on a platform exalted above the people in the pews. I seem to recall Jesus warning the people to beware of those who wrapped themselves in such regalia and took the best seats in the house. Even more intimidating is the mandate of Exodus 20:26, "And you shall not go up by steps to my altar, that your nakedness be not exposed on it."

Perhaps that is why we wear robes. But does this not suggest that the preacher is more naked than the parishioner? After all, the parishioner is neither robed nor seated on a high platform. It is the preacher who stands in the pulpit, robed in a splendor which usually speaks more of academic than of spiritual achievement, and declares, "Thus says the Lord!"

Here is the punch line to this most magnificent joke. The preacher is the most naked of all. Yet God, in his infinite mercy and grace, somehow uses the inadequate and often presumptuous words of a common sinner to clothe the naked with a measure of heavenly splendor and feed the hungry with the bread of life.

Prophets Then and Now

One common characteristic of prophetic leaders in Israel—from Moses to John the Baptist—is their reluctance to take on a task which promised little in the way of comfort and much in the way of hardship. Moses, having grown comfortable tending his father-in-law’s sheep, tried to negotiate his way out of his call to be Israel’s deliverer. Amos, also, would have been content to remain “a shepherd and a dresser of sycamore trees.” Jonah had to spend three days in the belly of a fish before being convinced to go to Ninevah. Jeremiah thought himself too young to be taken seriously. Even Isaiah, before saying, “Here am I. Send me,” was overwhelmed by his unworthiness to stand in the presence of God.

The reluctance of the biblical prophets stands in stark contrast to present-day prophetic wannabes of the fast-fading religious left. Claiming the mantle of Elijah seems to have become the last refuge of these ecclesiastical scoundrels in their flagging effort to cling to some semblance of significance at a time when the Christian community (and no small portion of the secular community) has long since seen through their charade. The fact that the vast majority of Christians who read the Bible, regularly attend worship, and say their faith actually influences all aspects of their lives don’t buy their “inclusive” and “tolerant” brand of Christianity is seen by these fading apologists for the old order as proof positive that they are, in fact, being prophetic. After all, they tell us, the prophets of old were also ignored by the majority of the people.

Perhaps some of the old prophets did have a problem getting a fair hearing from the public. But they didn’t spend most of their time complaining about it. Neither did they constantly go around telling the people to listen to them because they were prophets. Their sole purpose was to proclaim the Word of God, not to call attention to themselves. Jesus could identify John the Baptist as Elijah, but he who said he was unworthy to untie Jesus’ sandals would never make such a claim on his own.

The gift of prophecy ought to be readily apparent to a community endued with the spirit of discernment. If some persons have to keep reminding the community that they are prophets, it is most likely they are no such thing.

The Cross and the Craftsmen

There is a definite contemporary parallel to the Ephesian reaction to Paul and the preaching of Christ crucified (Acts 19:21-41). The opposition in Ephesus comes not from Jews, but from Gentile craftsmen, led by Demetrius, who are "worshipers" of the pagan goddess Artemis. But their opposition to Paul is not driven by religious devotion, but by money. Paul's preaching is seen by them simply as a threat to their business enterprise. That the cult of Artemis might be displaced is of only secondary concern to those whose livelihood depends on the silver shrines they make with their hands.

Professional salesmen that they are, Demetrius and company bamboozle the Ephesians into joining their hypocritical mantra, "Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" It is no wonder the city is "filled with confusion" (v. 29). The ensuing riot is all the product of the craftsmen's cynical concern about the future of their business.

Manipulating the masses is nothing new, as this passage demonstrates. We have seen examples most recently in the Islamic world as demagogic "spiritual leaders" stir up rioting crowds to shout vacuous mantras and demand retribution against all who "insult" their prophet. The message of the cross remains an insult to every culture founded on belief in a lie. For the message of the cross exposes every lie and subjects it to the penetrating light of the truth that is Jesus Christ.