Romans
15:23-29
I'm reading from
Paul's letter to the Romans, the fifteenth chapter, versus 23 through
29. Paul has shared from the various places where he has served in
his ministry, and then he says:
23But now, with no
further place for me in these regions, I desire, as I have for many
years, to come to you 24when I go to Spain. For I do hope to see you
on my journey and to be sent on by you, once I have enjoyed your
company for a little while. 25At present, however, I am going to
Jerusalem in a ministry to the saints; 26for Macedonia and Achaia have
been pleased to share their resources with the poor among the saints
at Jerusalem. 27They were pleased to do this, and indeed they owe it
to them; for if the Gentiles have come to share in their spiritual
blessings, they ought also to be of service to them in material
things. 28So, when I have completed this, and have delivered to them
what has been collected, I will set out by way of you to Spain; 29and
I know that when I come to you, I will come in the fullness of the
blessing of Christ.
We don't often think
of charity work as being a dangerous profession, but we have seen those
examples in Iraq and Afghanistan recently where charity workers working
for a variety of organizations have been kidnapped and in some cases
killed. As we saw in decades past in many countries in Latin
America during disputes and civil wars there. Priests and nuns who
were assassinated by troops under control of the government.
There was a group of
20 of us or so that went to the Hult Center Thursday night to see La
Pasion', and we got to hear Glorystar and the other choir sing.
But to see that premier piece that opened the Bach Festival that tells
the story of the passion of Christ with a Latin American character and
'meat' to it was something special. Friday morning I had the
opportunity to meet with Osvaldo Golijov, the composer of that piece as
he met with religious leaders and faculty from the University. And
in the course of discussing with us why a Jew (Osvaldo is Jewish) from
Argentina would want to write a musical about precisely this story, the
passion of Christ, he told us of his experience growing up in his native
Argentina watching the bishops of the church bless the weapons of the
Argentine government as they paraded by. The very same weapons
that then were used to oppress and in some cases kill the priests of the
church who were involved in that work on behalf of the poor, working for
the justice of the poor in Argentina.
And so he said that
for him, as for most people in Latin America, not just for Christians,
that they can easily identify with the suffering of Jesus as a peasant
and itinerant preacher who was persecuted by his own religious leaders.
And thus Golijov's passion is told from the experience of Latin America
and it is that experience's perspective that gives it such incredible
power.
In preparation for
attending that Thursday night, I read some about it, I read of the
thunderous response it had received in Stuttgart where it premiered, and
in Boston, and so I was prepared for the end of the performance, for
this outpouring of applause. If you didn't know about it, he chose
to end the piece with the kaddish, the traditional prayer of Jewish
tradition for the dead that is a prayer of life, a blessing of
life. And so it ends on that note.
And it didn't end the
way I expected it to. Instead of thunderous applause, there was
this thin moment. A thin moment where you feel this presence of
the divine, where you are touched by something not of this world.
And there in that secular place, at least I felt that thin moment that
was not filled with thunderous applause but was filled with complete and
total, absolute silence. Nearly 2,000 people there in the Silva
Concert Hall on Thursday night, and no one moved. No one even
blinked, no one coughed. It was total and absolute silence.
And it was one of the most sacred experiences I've had in a long time,
there in that very secular place. Incredibly powerful.
No one dared move,
not even, and especially not, the cloth-covered Jesus who had acted out
the crucifixion in a dance, and laid there on the stage in between
audience and performers in absolute stillness. Until, like that
early morning ages ago, not just Jesus, but the entire auditorium burst
into life with its applause. I suppose that the silence lasted
maybe 30 seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. And then it came
to life, and you see that is precisely the meaning of the resurrection
-- that the entire community comes to life. But that's another
story that I'm not going to get into this morning--I'll save that for
Easter.
Here's the
point: just as Jesus' trip to Jerusalem cost him his life, so too
for Paul, for it is in Jerusalem where Paul is arrested and taken in
chains to Rome, where, according to sources from the 2nd century, he was
executed by Nero (along with other Christians), blamed for the burning
of Rome. Thus had it not been for this charitable work on behalf
of the poor in Jerusalem, Paul would have been merrily making his way on
to Spain as he desired to do. And to add to that terrible irony,
it was at a conference with church elders in Jerusalem where the
decision was made that he should take this offering among the Gentile
converts and bring it to Jerusalem. Thus his fate, in a sense, was
sealed decades earlier at that conference.
By the way, those of
you familiar with that little bit of church history and your Bible are
aware, I suspect, of the reason of that conference in Jerusalem -- it
was to decide what to do with these Gentile converts. A resolution
was presented at the assembly, all the delegates came to vote on that
resolution, Paul and Barnabas and the like were there, and the proposal
was that they would have to become Jewish in order to be followers of
Jesus. Of course Paul was opposed to that effort and it failed,
thus setting the stage for the emergence of Christianity as a separate
tradition from Judaism.
And Paul writes in
his letter to the Galatians that the only requirement placed upon him
and the converts in his church was that they should take this offering
for the poor and the saints in Jerusalem. By the way, in the story
told in Acts 15, there is a slightly different version of the outcome of
that conference, you can read about it there, but again, that's another
story.
Typical of Paul, he
takes to this task of collecting the offering with incredible zeal --
making it not just something he does on the periphery of his mission,
but central to it. And he tells the Romans that this offering is a
physical blessing given by the Gentiles in response to the spiritual
blessing they have received from there Jewish counterparts. He
uses even stronger language in his second letter to the Corinthians, in
chapters 8 and 9, where he offers 5 reasons for this offering. He
says first of all 'this offering is a test of the genuineness of their
love'. Secondly, it is the 'model for our generosity is no less
than Jesus who though rich became poor for our sakes that by his poverty
we might become rich', spiritually speaking. And third, 'as a
matter of basic fairness that those with abundance should assist those
in need'. And fourth, that 'God will enrich each person in return
for their generosity'. And then lastly, fifth, that 'such
generosity not only glorifies God, it shows obedience to the gospel of
Jesus Christ'. So now our deacons will wait upon us J.
You almost get this
sense from Paul in reading his letters that it has that kind of
importance, that how much you put in the plate is going to determine
whether or not you get into the realm of God. Now we wouldn't put
it that way, but that emphasizes the centrality of this effort.
It teaches us, I
think, that giving in the church is not about about humanitarian
deeds. It's not about paying the light bill. It's not about
meeting the budget. It is about no less than being a faithful,
loving follower of Jesus. For Paul, the purpose of Jesus, summed
up in Philippians 2, is this: that Christ Jesus did not count
equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself,
taking the form of the slave and became obedient to the point of death,
even death on the cross, and therefore God has exalted him above every
other name.
It is this emptying
of one's self that describes for Paul the central character of Christian
life. And thus even though he could send others to Jerusalem, and
he knows it is dangerous (he writes later in this passage in Romans to
pray that he will be rescued from the unbelievers), even though he could
have easily avoided that risk, he goes to Jerusalem to personally
deliver this offering because to do anything less would be to go back on
everything he has said the Christian faith and life is about.
And in so doing, Paul
empties himself, taking the form not of a slave but of a prisoner and
becomes obedient unto death, even death as a martyr.
Interesting thing, as
a little historical footnote, we don't know what happened to the
offering. There's no record of it. If there was any
contribution report made to the givers, it didn't make it into the New
Testament. Paul doesn't talk about it again. Luke, who tells
the story of Paul's arrest in Jerusalem and transportation to Rome never
mentions it. So we don't know how many orphans are clothed, how
many widows are fed. It would be nice to know those things, but
ultimately now, 2,000 years later, that really isn't what is
important. It makes us feel good, to know where our offerings go,
and what is done with our money, but it is much more important to know
that in our giving we are being faithful to God. And that's the
point.
Our resource ministry
has decided that our theme for our stewardship campaign this Fall will
be 'generations of generosity'. Which calls to my mind Tom
Brokaw's best-seller "The Greatest Generation", that tells the
story of everyday people who made enormous sacrifice at home and abroad
during World War II. Like the apostle Paul, it was a generation
that emptied itself even unto death that we might be filled with the
blessing of life. We will be reflecting more on the generations of
generosity in the months ahead as we reflect upon that theme. So
I'll just say one thing now for the moment about this: that those
who grew up in the great depression, I think, understand better than
anyone else the true meaning of generosity and blessing. Paul
could have been writing about them when he wrote in 2nd Corinthians 'for
during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their
extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their
part'.
It is the generosity
of past generations which enables us to be here. From Abraham on
down. Whether or not future generations will also be here depends
on the generosity of this generation. Paul says that only when he
has completed his task, he has delivered that collection to those
impoverished saints in Jerusalem, that it's only after he has emptied
himself will he then be able to complete his journey in the fullness of
the blessing of Christ.
And this is the
paradox of our blessing in Christ. That in emptying ourselves we
are filled. As Saint Francis said in that beautiful prayer:
'it is in giving that we receive'. The greatest blessing is not
what we get but what we give. And those filled with blessing are
those who share their blessings with others. Such is the true test
of Christian love and faith.
Thus the most
important measurement of our blessing is not how much we have received,
but how much we have shared with others. That is what determines
the extent to which we are filled with the blessing of our Lord.