Where Everybody's Crazy

Argh, so much to do and so little time. I have of course another sermon this weekend to write, and this time - the third Sunday - in Japanese. This takes twice to three times as long as doing a sermon in English. But fear not, I still do do the same kind of preparation for those sermons; here's part of my preparation for this week's:

Luke lists these twelve disciples. The first six evidently formed a pre-existing community, or at least set of overlapping communities, while none of the latter six seem to have any connection to the others.

There are some possible connections: Mark says that Matthew the Levite was the son of Alphaeus and Luke says that James was also son of Alphaeus. So they might have been brothers, but there's no tradition for that. It's possible that Mark got confused. (Well, not if he was inspired by the Spirit but we can blame it on a mistaken harmonization by a scribe, which has the same effect.) But on the whole the second set of disciples are fairly independent.

Indeed some of the connections between them are ironic: Matthew the Levite and Simon the Zealot would not ordinarily have been the best of friends, and that style of relationship was also prefigured in the relationship between Jesus and Judas from Keriot. Remembering that Jesus deliberately chose this set of people, I'm taking it to mean that he wishes his kingdom to be composed of those who ordinarily would not necessarily get along, but what a testimony it becomes when they do get along in his name. These days it's kind of rare, but it really is a testimony when it does happen.

So Jesus uses both "friendship evangelism" - utilising existing relationship networks - and "cold" evangelism, calling people like Matthew off the street. Let us not say that one way is better than the other.

I'm also looking at the way people change as a result of meeting Jesus. John was an aggressive and feisty fisherman and yet he dedicated the last few years of his life as bishop of Ephesus to telling Christians that they should love each other. Matthew was greedy and he became generous. Peter was a racist (or at least an elitist) when he met Jesus, and - here's the interesting bit - stayed a racist long after Pentecost until God finally dealt with that bit of his personality. And he still had a fight with Paul about it. Perhaps, just perhaps, the apostles were human after all.

Thomas - well, people get the wrong idea about Thomas. Yes, he was not inclined to believe people who said that someone had raised from the dead. I think that's a fairly sensible position to take, given that people don't often come back from the dead. Thomas always wanted a bit more proof. But Jesus knew that Thomas needed that proof, and he gave it to him, and when Thomas got it, he called Jesus his God, giving the rest of us a handy proof-text against Jehovah's Witnesses. And while everyone else was messing around heading west around the Mediterranean, he thought, well, someone's got to take this good news east, and off he went and founded churches in Iran and India.

I don't know yet how the sermon's going to finish and tie all this together, which is why I equally don't know how this blog post is going to finish and tie all this together. But at least with a blog post I can say: Well, that's as far as I've got with my thinking. Can't really do that with a sermon. Still, the blog post has a pretty picture and the sermon won't, so that makes us even.

I'm trying to prepare a sermon for this weekend on Luke 5:27-, the call of Levi. As usual, none of the many commentaries I possess bother to think through the practical results of Jesus' call of Levi.

Here's what the Theological Dictionary of the New Testament says about Levi's job:

Since no one pays taxes willingly, people dislike and fear tax farmers. Traders run into problems at toll and customs stations. On long journeys goods are often taxed several times as they pass through various districts.

Levi is sitting in his "tax booth". This is a toll booth at the side of the road where people are taxed for their possessions as they pass by. Jesus calls Levi to leave the tax booth. There's now no-one at the toll booth, since tax collectors work alone. What this means is that Jesus has turned a toll road into a freeway. By encouraging the dereliction of duty of a tax inspector, he has undoubtedly committed revenue fraud. Funny that nobody touches on this; all the commentaries are struck dumb will how lovely it is that Jesus calls the lowest of the low in society. They don't stop to think about what happens next.

I keep trying to say that Jesus was apolitical, that his struggle was against evil and injustice and not political systems, but he keeps making it more and more difficult for me.

I'm trying to write a sermon on Luke 5:1-11 - Jesus calling Peter - for next Sunday. See, I was supposed to be having a weekend off in Tokyo next week, but, well, you know how it goes - Saturday afternoon will be spent at a conference in Yokohama, and then on Sunday I'll be preaching at Shonandai church. Shonandai is pastored by the Kawamuras, who were missionaries in Oxford and looked after me like parents while I was there in 2003-2005, before their mission retired them. When they asked me to preach, I could hardly say no. But then I'm preaching the week after at Nagahama anyway, so I'll use the same sermon...

Anyway, I was really surprised by Peter's reaction to Jesus' miracle. Most of the time the disciples, or anyone else, witness a miracle, they ask who Jesus is; when Peter witnesses a miracle, he asks who he is. And he declares that he is a sinful man. Suddenly, this big fisherman starts talking in religious jargon. "Sinful" is not a word that is a normal part of a fisherman's vocabulary. This is a theological word. Jesus starts talking about fish; Peter ends up talking about theology. As I said previously, if you want to talk to the fisherman about religion, you've first got to talk to him about fish. This is still, I think, a lesson for all missionaries.

But now Peter has got religion, what does he say? He says he is a "sinful" man. Sinfulness is an admission of guilt. This is a man with literally a serious guilty conscience. There is no connection between a miraculous catch of fish and Peter's sinfulness. The usual explanation is that Peter is in awe of Jesus' holiness. But I'm not convinced about that. Because you can't see holiness. Peter didn't see holiness. He saw fish. If you want to talk to the fisherman about religion, you've first got to talk to him about fish.

This wasn't the first miracle that Peter witnessed, either. Peter's mother-in-law got healed. (Lk 4; now that raises questions about Peter's wife during the rest of the Gospel, but let's not go there this time.) Why the confession of sin? Why now? I wonder what he's done. I wonder why Peter has a guilty conscience. Fishermen are pretty feisty characters. They work hard, they play hard. They probably drink hard, and generally live hard. My ancestors were fishermen. Sometimes it shows.

But anyway, what this got me thinking is that Jesus knew exactly what was needed to get Peter talking in theological terms. Jesus doesn't talk theology; Peter ends up talking theology. This was obviously Jesus' plan all along. First he prophesies over Peter when Andrew brings him for an interview; (Jn 1) then he heals Peter's mother-in-law; and now he is ordering Peter around on matters of fishing. He knows exactly what is needed to get Peter to recognise his own sin.

And this is really what caught my attention. Because there is a distinction between dealing with "felt needs" and giving "personalised attention", and we often mash the two together. There's a lot of emphasis on "felt needs" in evangelism these days. And I understand it. I'm fairly sympathetic to it. There's a great article in this edition of "Japan Harvest" about the felt needs of the Japanese. I know that Jesus can fulfill these. And I used to enjoy the sermons of Archbishop Kallistos of Diokleia, and one of his catchphrases was "if salvation is to be salvation, it must reach the point of human need". And he's right. If it doesn't satisfy us, it isn't salvation.

But that must be weighed against another quote, from William Sloane Coffin:

I don't see how you can attract folk to Jesus by appealing to their basic selfishness - "Jesus can fix everything that's wrong with you" - and end up offering anything like the self-less, self-denying faith of Jesus.

Jesus did not deal with felt needs. His concern was with getting Peter to acknowledge his sinfulness. Jesus did demonstrate personalised attention. He clearly had Peter in mind and knew how to bring him to a point of confession. But it seems like his sensitivity was not towards Peter's felt needs, but to Peter himself. Peter knew he was a sinful man, but that wasn't a problem. Jesus personalised his attention towards Peter and made it a problem.

The danger of the "felt needs" gospel is that we can alter the gospel to be whatever the individual needs. Jesus doesn't do this. His personalised attention is focussed on getting people to need whatever the gospel is.

We speak of the Gospel as "good news". Luke's Gospel is particularly known as "good news to the poor". But if the Gospel is good news to the poor, is it not also bad news to the rich? The other day I was reading the Magnificat, and that day I went for a walk into Chalfont St Peter, a nearby village which must be one of the most wealthy areas in the country. I couldn't help thinking how difficult it must be to be a Christian there. "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." Not difficult. Impossible.

There are two types of people that Jesus rails against. The first are the religious hypocrites, typified by the Pharisees. The second are the rich. "Woe to the rich!" These are not easy or popular words, and were not when they were spoken. While the church today argues about women priests and gay bishops, it's quite ironic that the problems that Jesus spoke against - hypocrisy and wealth - have been accepted by the church for almost all of its existence. Maybe he knew something we don't.

Jesus tells the parable of the rich fool. He sends away the rich young ruler. Nearly every parable in Luke is to do with money, the rich and the poor. The poor always win and the rich always lose. Why does Jesus hate the rich so much? Is he jealous? Hasn't God given them this money to enjoy?

We don't really believe that Jesus hates the rich. We don't really believe he said "Woe to the rich". Hey, we don't really believe he said "blessed are the poor", preferring to spiritualise it to the Matthean "blessed are the poor in spirit". That one's a lot easier for us to deal with. I don't know much about hermeneutics, but I know enough to be suspicious of anything which allows us to avoid the plain sense of what Scripture is saying. Here are three more ways to avoid the idea that Jesus hates the rich. Three ways people claim you can be rich and still be a Christian:

• He didn't really say that. This is the snake's objection - "Did God really say...?" As an example of this reasoning, let's take "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." This sounds very much like Jesus is saying that a rich man cannot become a Christian. The way to explain this verse is as follows: There was a gate in the city of Jerusalem called the "eye of a needle gate", which was very narrow, and through which you had to enter very carefully. Jesus was saying that a rich man could only become a Christian very carefully. There's only one problem with this idea. There was no such gate in Jerusalem. That explanation was completely made up as a way to avoid the plain sense of the words. In reality, Jesus was actually saying that a rich man cannot become a Christian. Oh, we don't like that.
• It's not the money, it's what we do with it. So long as we have the right approach to our money, we're OK. There's only one problem with that. Jesus didn't say "Woe to those who are rich and abuse their money." He said "Woe to the rich". God will send the rich empty away, not the rich and foolish. It may offend our sensibilities that Jesus saw riches as evil in themselves, but he did. It probably went down as badly then as it does now. To assume that Jesus meant "rich and profligate" is to read into the Bible what is not there, in another attempt to avoid the plain sense of the words. In reality, Jesus was of the opinion that riches themselves corrupt, not our attitude to them. Oh, we don't like that either.
• "Same to you, pal". It's hard for me to tell others about Jesus' hatred for riches when I'm so rich myself, compared to the vast majority of the world. Well, yes. That is my problem. I find it a huge challenge, I shall have to deal with my problem. That does not diminish your problem, though.

To be honest, I pity the rich - they cannot enter the kingdom of heaven; Jesus said so. I cannot do what he did, and accept their hospitality while maintaining the integrity to criticise them harshly at the same time. But I do know that being around the rich really does help me love the poor.

[In as much as] Many people have tried to set down a record of all the things that were played out here among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word right from the start passed them on to us. So it seemed good for me too to write to you, having researched everything carefully from the beginning so that you, honourable Theophilus, might know about the accuracy of the things you have been instructed. (Luke 1:1-4)

Right at the start of this Gospel, we have a challenge. Why are we reading this? What do we expect to ``get out'' of reading the Bible? Should we expect to get anything out of it?

To think about such questions is to approach the Bible as a personal communication between us and God. In such a view, the Church is sidelined. In contrast, Luke emphasises two things. He speaks about the accuracy and the historical reliability of his gospel. It is right that we read his words in the knowledge that they are authenticated by eyewitnesses and researched by the author, and that we can claim the historicity of the Gospel for ourselves. What we are about to read actually happened, two thousand years ago. But at the same time Luke emphasises that his research was done for the purpose of confirming and reinforcing teaching, to confirm to `Theophilus' that what he has been hearing is indeed true; the Gospel is there, as Newman put it, to prove what the Church teaches. It is not an end unto itself, nor something separable from the teaching of the Church, but stands as the test and the standard of what is taught.

Luke's introduction contends with both the evangelical position which places the Bible above the Church, and with the liberal position which subjugates the Bible to the teaching of the Church. Instead the Bible stands by the side of the Church, in dialogue, informing it and challenging it to remain true. As we continue to read the Gospel, and yes, to use it in our devotions, we must remember to balance the truth of the Gospel and the teaching of the worldwide Church, past and present.