Jesus Was Clear

Jesus was clear, painfully clear, I’m sure, that only a few of the religious leaders sitting on top of the social, religious, financial, heap called The Holy City would give him the time of the day.

The rest would be happy to see him go away, and if not going away voluntarily, they’d be more than happy to help him on his way.

Jesus didn’t spend a lot of time trying to convince the inconvincible. 

He understood the human tragedy, that power and wealth are more than enough to undo the soul and create monstrous ideas and behavior. 

Some can resist the allure of wealth and the power it bestows, but most succumb, in one degree or another. Some maintain a balance, but a lot of folks dive into the money bin like old Scrooge McDuck.

Jesus addresses the question of wealth multiple times, not so much to convince the Oligarchy, but to trouble them, disturb, distress, and discomfort them, compelling them to do their worst, to reveal to them, maybe, and to reveal most certainly to the world, their naked villainy (thaniks to Shakespeare for the phrase) and rapacious ways. 

Jesus knew the likely course of events, and remained true to God’s calling, to be faithful, to be truthful, and, as needed, to put his life on the line, which, in the end, he had to do. 

It was die, or lie. 

Satan was hoping that Jesus would choose the lie, but much to Satan’s disappointment, Jesus chose instead to die. Believing, hoping, wondering, if his death would finally mean something. But whatever it might or might not mean, Jesus turned from the lie offered so eloquently and so richly adorned, to die between two thieves, two more men deemed “useless” and “dangerous” by the ruling elite, who washed their hands of the whole thing, because they had better things to do.

So, Jesus spent most of his time with the disciples, in whom he had great hopes … maybe. 

And time, too, with those deemed by the Oligarchy as worthless, dangerous, sinful; the down-and-out who deserved their sad lot in life, for whatever reasons the rich and the powerful so decided. 

The rich and the powerful always need folks on the bottom so that the rich and the powerful might congratulate themselves on their own faith, their moral character, their god, their energy and their abilities, while dropping a few coins into the charity box, making them feel even more superior, and even more wonderful.

Jesus spent his time with those who had a chance to be real.

Jesus sought the lost.

Healed the broken.

Lifted up the downtrodden.

Gave hope to the desolate.

Walked with the lonely.

Visited the stranger.

Crossed boundaries.

Went fishing.

Made breakfast on the beach.

Gave life to the dead.

And light to all the darkened corners.

He spent his time where there was hope for a better day. 

With people who were eager to hear his message, even though they most likely didn’t understand much of it, but they knew that he was tweaking the noses of the proud and the pompous, and the crowds loved him for that … and also the food and the fellowship … and even their own ill-formed hopes of some kind of a Messiah, who might just help them throw off the chains of Rome, chains forged by violent leaders and a brutal military police, aided and abetted by the Jerusalem elite who were more than happy to see their own people suffer even as they enjoyed their resorts and golf courses.

All right, they didn’t play golf.

But they would’ve if they could’ve.

The Ransom of the Soul - study materials

Study Group, Monday, January 21, 2019, Pasadena

Hosts: Dean Thompson and Tom Eggebeen

Study: Tom Eggebeen

Reading Peter Brown's book, "Ransom of the Soul" (2016) - the first six centuries of Christianity, with a focus on the place of wealth in this life, and as a bridge to heaven.

Enhanced further by Brown’s, “Through the Eye of a Needle.)

Personal note: I wish I had read all of this 40 years ago … but neither of these books then existed. As I read, I kept jumping back to the Bible, seeing, I think, how much of the New Testament especially, was written in the light of Empire values and behavior - I think of the Banquet Parable. Brown is a remarkable writer, often taking issue with “traditional” scholarship on the Roman Empire, and incredibly generous in praise for a new generation of scholars. There is so much here, I cannot begin to do it justice, but, for me, this is some of the best reading I’ve done in years. My initial interest was tweaked by a brief review of the book, “Ransom of the Soul.” I then secured from the library, “Through the Eye of a Needle” which is Brown’s “big fat book.”

Let’s begin:

Then, or now, nothing is ever really settled. 

Rising stars and people of influence, each with their own take on things, some prevailing, enduring, both for the cogency of their ideas, and when the powers-that-be decided that some ideas were likely to enhance their own place of privilege, while adding to the civic good. Then or now, privilege, power, wealth and influence, religion and rhetoric, flow together like some kind of a huge, muddy, river, feeding the land, sometimes flooding it, and always moving along, carrying history with it.

Some voices, like, Tertullian and Cyprian in Carthage, and later, Augustine in Hippo and Ambrose in Milan, achieved a degree of lasting influence. But for every voice in one direction, there were others moving contrapuntally.

The move to Christianity, in spite of Constantine’s conversion, was neither immediate nor widespread. But in bits and pieces, here and there … in the meantime, before the final “victory” of Christianity, Pagans, Jews and Christians lived together much of the time without distress (post Constantine, of course), often in dialogue with one another, sometimes in agreement, and sometimes not.

In all of this, Christianity emerges with some unique ideas that were to shape ultimately the Western World.

In the quest for justice (ideas shared by both Jew and Christian) ... much of the writing and preaching of the fourth and fifth centuries was an effort to promote alms-giving - to remember those so easily forgotten, the poor. 

The Pagan focus was primarily on caring for one’s own kind, not only those of one’s own social status, but of one’s community, i.e. a rather profound civic mindedness, but one restricted to “citizens,” only rarely crossing the boundary to do something good for the rabble.

For Christians, the question of wealth remained a challenge, and ultimately wealth, rather than being rejected, was linked to heaven, the afterlife ... something that Pagans, Jews, and Christians pondered, with alms-giving a tool in the remission of sins, and then also a means of social security for the poor. Both categories of people, the poor and the dead ought not to be forgotten, and wealth was the means by which the memory of the dead and the living poor could be “kept alive.”

In the mix of all of this, the parable of the Rich Young Man played a vital role, to sell all and give it to the poor.

Some took this be a universal dictum for the rich, and some, in fact, divested themselves of their wealth, but even then, unloading a vast fortune of estates, material wealth in ivory, gold and silver, and villas wasn’t easy. As best as we can tell, such “divestiture” likely involved selling to family members and friends of similar social standing, or, giving it to a church, all to secure treasure in heaven, while still receiving some income from distant estates, not so easily divested. Some then founded their own monasteries, and while living austere lives (especially the emphasis on owning everything in common and being humbly dressed), they did so in the comfort of villa-like buildings. What was built for God was to be glorious, even as were the villas they once built for themselves and their image in the community.

Treasure in heaven was a reality that few of us can imagine. 

But it moved money away from the usual display of wealth expected by Roman society into the coffers of the church, and much was done to relieve the suffering of the really poor, the non-citizens of the Empire, people on the bottom of the economic heap.

A perfect system?

Clearly not, but a system that addressed two concerns: the afterlife, and life here-and-now, with a special focus on the poor, not so much to change the conditions creating poverty, but as a means by which the wealthy, and the not-so-wealthy, could secure their salvation through alms-giving, to relieve immediate suffering. "Lay up alms in thy storehouse; it shall deliver thee from affliction" (Ecclesiasticus 29:12). 

The church soon realized that wealth was not going to go away, so the church found ways to tame that wealth, to keep the wealth from damaging those who possessed it. Roman philosophers shared this concern, and like the Christians who followed, often decried, not wealth, but avarice.

Much preaching was against the "Roman Games" wherein the rich would showcase their wealth and power by supporting gladiators and funding the carnivals. It was exorbitant, to say the least, but it secured the social position of the sponsor and also earned them the goodwill of the people (citizens: what we might call the middle and the lower-middle class), who sometimes protested when the “rich” failed to provide for the welfare and the entertainment of the city. 

Clearly, there was massive wealth throughout the Empire, and much competition among the rich to display it. Yet, it was governed by a sense of civic good deeds, an idea well-developed in the Empire with its philosophers. Reputation meant just about everything, and a person of wealth needed to secure his or her presence through magnificent buildings, bridges, public baths, and entertainment.

Christianity, with its broader focus on the poor, was able to enter into this Roman world of values and build upon it a specific Christian ethic regarding the place and function of wealth, and the need to include all people, all classes, all needs, material and spiritual.

Augustine centered in on alms-giving for the sake of the poor, rather than the “Games"  as a means of display, and, then, of course, in Rome (a growing clergy group) and Milan (Ambrose), monies were funneled into the churches, the tombs of the saints (special locations, sacred, where heaven and earth were bound together, where miracles occurred - even as the saints prayed for our salvation), and then the monasteries. 

None of this happened over night, but it happened slowly and surely as the church grappled with what the earlier Pagan culture did: i.e. what’s the place of wealth, and how shall the wealthy behave?

Then, or now, wealth was a conundrum - Pelagius suggested that the only way through wealth was for the Christian to give it all away.

Augustine suggested that wealth was a tool for good, and that a Christian could be wealthy, but only by alms-giving, a steady discipline throughout one's life: to secure "treasure in heaven" by providing treasure for the poor, through the the coffers of the church, it’s buildings and its tombs for the martyrs.

My reading makes clear just how challenging it all was ... to find the ways and means of dealing with the one thing that preoccupies most of humanity most of the time: money!

Today, Augustine would lament how the wealthy are inclined to build towers to themselves rather than securing "treasure in heaven" by providing for the poor. Augustine would likely see much of America as nothing more than a Roman Carnival, replete with all the trappings of wealth, clamoring for entertainment, while ignoring the plight of many who “really don’t count.”

Then or now, no system is flawless, but we can't give up the effort, and because the church is no longer the "central bank," so to speak, the government has to function in that regard, and taxation is the tool to bring about a humbling of the rich, and redistribution of wealth, even as alms-giving was the tool then.

And we needn't worry about the rich giving up their desire for wealth. It's in their character, and they'll do it no matter how much they pay in taxes, but in the end, taxes will "save their souls" (if high enough to actually be real giving), whether they know it or not, and in the end, the poor will be comforted, their lot improved, and society changed.

Questions/Thoughts:

1. What is the place of wealth in the United States? How do we think about it? What’s the purpose of wealth? 

2. The WASP establishment seemingly had a sense of civic duty - what’s happened to this?

3. In Western Michigan, the VanAndels and the DeVoses poured tens of millions into the revitalization of Grand Rapids, including medical research and a host of other means by which the common good of the city is enhanced. I believe this was done out of the goodness of their hearts, and with a sense of Christ, and a commitment to civic good. Yet what I know of their political allegiances (for them, all tied up in their religion) strikes me as inimical to the foundations of democracy, and contrary to much of my Christian faith. What do we make of people such as this? And others of great wealth who dominate the world, who often show up in their “carriages” as did the ancient wealthy, on their way to parties held in honor of the Emperor, to display their wealth and privilege, competing with one another for the largest this and the most beautiful that. Can the church offer anything to this? Other than baptizing it, or condemning it?

4. Augustine and Ambrose were able to challenge people to think eternally - for the Pagan, to mount to the stars; for the Christian, to be with the saints in heaven with Christ. They spoke easily and convincingly about the “transfer of wealth,” from here to there, by giving it to the church, and the church, in turn, caring for the poor, which it most earnestly did, even as it acquired great wealth for itself. What, if any, tools are at our disposal to thinking about wealth today?

Luke's Wicked Sense of Humor

Good ol' Luke.

I suspect a twinkle in his eye many a time as he wrote the gospel, tweaking the noses of the know-it-alls, and catching the proud (and who isn't?) off guard.

Today's lection, the rich man (Oh Lordy, listen to the trumpets and watch the security detail in their black SUVs) and, oh wait a minute, does the rich man have a name?

And Lazarus, a stinking little man full of sores and sorrow, groveling on the ground for a few of the rich man's crumbs ... friendless, a companion of raggedy street dogs ...

But, wait, he has a name, a real name, and later in the story, this sad mess of sores gets to sit on the lap of Abraham, while the rich man, a critter without a name, a self-serving bag of pride, goes without a name, and he's hot and he thirsty, and still expects Lazarus to come a-running to wait upon him.

He's not worth naming; his worth is in himself, his possessions and his power. He has what he wants, and so he's lost his name. Like all the rich, so full of themselves, a dime a dozen as God sees it.

But it's Lazarus, the man with nothing, who smells to high heaven with sores and disease, likely condemned by the rich man for being lazy, or stupid, why, he has a name.

Precious in the sight of the LORD.

A name.

I think Luke was chuckling to himself when he wrote the story, recalling how Jesus so often tweaked the noses of the rich and the powerful.

Recalling the moment, perhaps, as Luke witnessed it, or more likely, as Luke heard it from others, that Jesus, too, had a twinkle in his eye, a wicked sense of humor, as he made it clear to those who worked so hard to make a name for themselves, that in God's realm, they have no name at all; they've traded it away for goods.

And the stinking man, licked by the dogs, beneath the table of the rich, well, pay attention folks, because he has a name!

A Lunatic in the White House

A word to the reader: read this aloud.
There's cadence in all of this.
A flow of words, and thoughts.
Line by line;
Best read aloud.

We have a lunatic in the White House.
A purveyor of shoddy goods and shabby values.
A man who loved to fire people.
As he ran his small potatoes outfit.
All on Daddy's money.
And the money loaned to him.
Because some thought his hideous name had value.

Trump this they might say.
And then handed over the cash.
To this measly man of no means.
Just a dirty mean man ... mean as a boil on the neck.
As a pit bull chained by fear and hate.
His little mean life.
His dirty mind.
His filthy hands.

A lunatic running the affairs of this nation.
He loves conflict, he says.
Chaos and noise.
The more the better.
He thrives, or so he thinks.
In the rancid stew of arrogance and ignorance.
Know-nothing is his value.
Read-nothing is his defense:
Against a world that exists, in spite of his lunacy.
A world waiting for something, anything.
A word for the world.
Something that makes sense.
But his mouth mumbles the inchoate.
The nonsense of his own defective sense of greatness.
His dirty little hands move about.
He folds his arms and lays down the law of his lunacy.

Even his demented gang of thieves see his lunacy.
The chaos, the noise.
They come and go, this demented gang of thieves.
All hoping to enrich themselves on the tears of America.
All with some kind of deranged sense of power over others.
First-class flights of fancy.
Fancy dining room tables.
Fancy this, and fancy that, they say, with a sneer on their faces.
Looking at America with a cruel smile, smug in their self-containment.

This demented gang of thieves can't stand the lunatic in the White House.
They can't stand themselves, either.
Full of hate and piety and greed and monstrous ideas:
Devoid of life, and hopeless with despair.
Because money can't buy what they want.
So they pile it up higher.
Beg for more from the nations of the world.
When America has been depleted.
Beg for me, creep around for more.
Because they can't ever have enough of the filthy stuff.

And these are the people gathered around the lunatic in the White House.
They sing his song, or maybe their own song.
It's all the same ... full of me, full of themselves, full of festering desire.
For the world. It's what they want. All of it.
Each a lunatic ... all of them.
Destroyers of what little truth there might be in this beleaguered world.
Destroyers of hope for those in the dark night of the soul.
Destroyers of life, because all they can do is take it, take it away.
Fondle and feel it, and then destroy it ... because it's not enough.
More they must have ... more and more, until it's all gone.
Done and gone ... gone and done ... in their lunacy of lust.

The lunatic is looking pretty lousy these days.
A sagging face, a bull-dog mouth, and tired eyes.
He hugs himself, because no one else will.
These are folks who don't hug; they hate it: a real touch to give.
They can't ... they have nothing to give ... they can't hug another.
But only themselves.
So the lunatic hugs himself endlessly ... at every meeting, every moment.
To protect himself from all the bile streaming to him:
Darkness, confusion, bewilderment, fear and the greed.
The greed of others looking to score points with the lunatic.
For a slice of the shrinking pie.
He laughs, they laugh.
They congratulate him.
And pile on the compliments.
While despising him as the scum of their own earth.
Their dirty dungeons of wealth and pride.
Their mansions and their clubs.
Their golf courses and their large, fat, black, cars.
Paid for by tax-payer money.
What a deal for them.
A ripoff for the nation.
This lunatic in the White House.

A Rat Problem

The GOP talks about the poor:
As if they were a rat problem.
A scourge upon the estate.
Something to spoil the view.

The GOP cannot see people, but only problems.
Problems to be solved, with eradication.
Cruelty.
Death.

The poor are immoral, they say.
The poor are lazy and dirty, they say.
The poor are poor for their own fault, they say.
They say a lot of things.

And none of it is right.
They lie through their pearl-whitened teeth.
Admiring their prowess in a pitiful mirror.
Plastic surgery for the women and viagra for the men.

Slapping one another on the back.
Or grabbing one another in the nether parts.
Laughing all the way to the bank.
Grateful that so many rubes believe their lies.

The poor be damned.
Though we know the truth.
The poor are poor because of theft.
Wage theft and health theft.

Life taken away and hoarded by the few.
Because the few are really afraid.
Afraid of not having enough.
The death of the soul; the real scourge on the land.

The poor be damned.
Take away what little dignity they have.
Strip them bear in the public square.
Shame them all the more.

Why must it be this way?
What deformity of their DNA would prompt such lies?
Wealth has distorted their vision.
And for the rubes, the dreams of wealth kills the spirit.

The GOP talks about the poor:
As if they were a rat problem.

The Poor and the Needy

Further musings ... Psalm 113:

"He raises the poor from the dust,
and lifts the needy from the ash heap,
to make them sit with princes,
with the princes of his people."

And the princes howl like mad ...
we're not sitting with these "takers,"
we're not putting up with unfair taxation that
redistributes our hard-won monies and gives
them to freeloaders and the lazy.

We're the makers, and it belongs to us.
Not to them.
Not to the poor, who deserve their dust.
Not to the needy, who need to spend more time
on their ash heap.

Uh uh God.
We'll have none of that.
To hell with them all.

And, god, think about it.
We're on your side.
We work hard.
And give our millions to charity.

Sure, we enjoy it ourselves,
Our caviar moments.
And if you need a loan.
Heck, it's yours, interest free.

Just don't make us sit with the poor and the needy.

Poverty and Wealth Are Not Virtues

Poverty isn't virtue ... it's just poverty.

Nor is wealth a virtue ... it's just wealth.

Both replicate one another.

Both are very much by chance ... though these days,

The wealthy like to believe it's by their own hand.

And, hence, poverty's a fault,

A failing.

Of the poor.

Strange.

That we've made wealth a virtue.

Poverty a vice.

Poor choices and a lack of drive.

So, take away from the poor.

All the more.

And reward the wealthy.

All the more.

Strange.

For the disappearance of reality from all of this.

The failure of the wealthy to appreciate the

Chanciness of their position.

And the refusal to look with a kindly eye

On the poor.

Slandering the poor.

While congratulating themselves.

As if wealth were a virtue.

To be rewarded.

And poverty a vice.

To be punished.

Wealth and the Will of God

Wealth, like everything else in life, is a strange and mystifying combination of factors, very few of which have anything to do directly with "how good or skillful I am." 

Christians have always rightly attributed wealth to divine favor - which led many to still think of themselves as "deserving" or at least "chums with God." Nevertheless, a sense of "divine favor" laid the responsibility for wealth at the feet of God rather than seeing it as a laurel wreath for the victor. 

If God is responsible, then gratitude, even humility, is required, and its attendant social calling - compassion - and that is exactly the response shunned these days of finance-capitalism. Indeed, if I'm self-made, then I owe nothing to anyone except myself! 

The Gospel according to Jesus and Psalm 146

From this morning's (Jan. 21, 2014) Lectionary (PCUSA): Psalm 146

 Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
          whose hope is in the LORD their God,
6   who made heaven and earth,
          the sea, and all that is in them;
     who keeps faith forever;
7        who executes justice for the oppressed;
          who gives food to the hungry.


     The LORD sets the prisoners free;
8        the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
     The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
          the LORD loves the righteous.
9   The LORD watches over the strangers;
          he upholds the orphan and the widow,
          but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

In a time when many a politician takes a shot at the poor and questions their integrity, and makes sport of them in their poverty, as lazy, willingly dependent, a drain on the economy, laggards and sluggards, takers not makers, it's helpful to read of God's social agenda, God's priorities and the way God looks favorably upon those who are scorned and held in contempt by those who "live in ease and are proud" (Psalm 123.4).

When Jesus begins his ministry by preaching in his hometown, he's handed the Isaiah scroll and reads similar words, words of Jubilee, reflected here in Psalm 146.

Initially, the hometown folks thought he was preaching for them, and they were cheered and proud of this local boy, but when Jesus closes the scroll and begins to preach, they quickly turn on him, and seek to kill him. Why? Because Jesus makes it clear to them that God's purpose is ever-so much larger in scope and includes the very people whom these folks despise.

Jesus escaped their clutches and goes on to preach and heal, to lay before us a gospel that truly is good news for all - a gospel that never grows old, is always fresh, always a challenge, sometimes irritating, but always gospel.

Rich Fools

The Parable of the Rich Fool by Rembrandt, 1627.

"It's hard for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven" because they consistently fail to recognize their dependence upon the goodness and kindness and decency of millions who've made this a great country in which the wealthy could be creative and enjoy success. Their failure to acknowledge their dependence and only build "larger barns" - a form of market manipulation - (see parable of The Rich Fool) ultimately renders them "the fool." Please note: in this case, it's God who terms the man, "Fool" - Luke 12.13-21.

Diminishing Kindness in America

I see one of our nation’s greatest attributes diminishing - kindness.

We’re known around the world for kindness, but I see this quality of character taking quite a beating under the onslaught of t-party values and right-wing crabbiness, with far too many Christians either ignoring the progressive loss of kindness or, worse, cheering it on in some kind of an upside-down misconstrual of the gospel.

And this worries me.

As it did Jeremiah, as he watched his beloved nation slide further and further into a very dark hole, wherein the wealthy were privileged and living in pleasure and three representative categories of people were slipping deeper into distress.

Jeremiah identifies three groups who are the victims of his nation’s greed - aliens, widows and orphans. People who ordinarily have no social voice or economic clout. Only a nation with compassion and kindness will address their needs. But as Judah slipped further away from God, all the while claiming to be righteous (“The temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD” - Jeremiah 7), compassion died on the vine before a harvest.

Jesus quotes Jeremiah in the context of his condemnation of the temple, and his instructive warning to beware of the scribes, or legal experts, who devour widows’ homes and then say long prayers. When Jesus sits by the treasury to watch people depositing their money, nothing how easily the wealthy drop in large sums, while noting a widow who puts in her last two copper coins, he notes her situation, not as an example of giving, nor does he lift up her virtue as a giver, but she’s a victim of a heartless system that would willingly take “all she has on which to live,” and put into a treasury that can only benefit the already-wealthy. Indeed, she’s a singular example of those widows whose homes are being devoured by the legal experts for the sake of the wealthy.

All of this dressed up in religion: the use of religion to bless business, and the transformation of business into religion.

We have taken the very people Jeremiah identifies as vulnerable, and the victimized widow of Mark, and turned them into “bad people” who are parasites on the system, lazy and irresponsible, depriving the upper-crust of their self-proclaimed share of the pie.

That some should feel this way is a contradiction of our better angels, so to speak, a denial of something vital to America’s identity. But what truly disappoints me is the failure of Christians to identify this decline and lament it’s loss in the American character.

Sadly, a lot of Christians have bought the story of the t-party as if it were the gospel, and it makes no sense whatsoever, for nothing could be further from the gospel than the bitterness and crabbiness of the t-party and right-wing ranters. Their childish complaints about government and their idolization of the wealthy as “job-providers” doesn’t square at all with history, nor does it reflect anything of the Gospel.

Furthermore, it’s a message being proclaimed in many pulpit, but then, many a pulpit has become nothing more than a message-chair to ease the pains of the life and give us a good night’s sleep. Preachers go on and on about marriage, children, success and self-esteem, while Jesus slips further into the shadows of our forgetfulness.

Yes, this disturbs me deeply.

But my greatest distress is the failure of so many Christians to do anything about it.