Today our good year in the company of Dr. Luke, the author of the Gospel that had been in focus through these months, begins to wind down toward the end. Are there any questions? If you have a question, and I suspect we have a few in mind, line up in the center aisle and wait your turn. Jesus has been teaching in the temple at Jerusalem, his disciples are at hand, and in the crowd his enemies as well.
The question-answer period begins. One by one those who oppose him for one reason or another challenge him with questions carefully contrived to trap, expose, and destroy him. The first is posed by scribes and elders and the chief priests of the temple: "Tell us by what authority you do these things, and who gave you that authority."
Next in line are spies who had been sent out by the chief priests and the scribes, who posed their question with a pretense of sincerity: "Teacher, we know that you teach rightly, and show no partiality, but truly teach the way of God. Is it lawful to pay taxes?"
Finally the Sadducees take their turn with a question, one that reflects their point of view as enemies of Jesus: "This woman who had seven husbands, whose wife will she be in the resurrection?"
In every question Jesus knows the deck is stacked, that he is being challenged, and in effect our Lord responds, "Glad you asked that question. It’s a good one." In every case the challengers become the victims of their own skullduggery, and some of them are forced to say unwittingly, "Teacher, you have spoken well," and they no longer dare to ask another question.
It is not good educational psychology to crush the questions or questioners, to administer the put-down, to throw wet blankets on the seeking mind. But these tricky questions were not asked by seeking minds, but by unbelieving hearts, not in the search for truth, but as an effort to destroy the truth. As the trap they tried to set for Jesus snapped shut on their own lips, putting them in their place, the more intent they became in putting him in his place - on the cross!
This is not a strange experience. Sometimes in the name of show biz, or for pop entertainment, or now and then in the name of investigative reporting, people of the media hold interviews with an obvious intent: "I’m out to get you."
Now Concerning the Resurrection
The question lifted from the temple teaching of our Lord today is this one, presented by the Sadducees - the question that concerns the resurrection, the highest and most certain hope we have as sons and daughters of the heavenly Father. The Sadducees, we have to understand, did not believe in resurrection, neither Christ’s, their own, nor ours. Their question, therefore, was designed to make a farce of it, to present the resurrection in the most absurd and scornful way they could. But we are glad they asked the question, for it lent the opportunity to Christ to underscore again this platform of our faith, to set an Easter fire glowing.
There came to him some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, and they asked the question, saying, "Teacher, Moses wrote for us [back in the Book of Deuteronomy,] that if a man should die without a child, it is his brother’s duty to take his wife and provide an heir for him. Tell us, then, there were these seven brothers, each of whom in turn fulfilled his duty as another brother died without a child. In the resurrection, whose wife will the woman be, for each of the seven had her as his wife."
Luke 20:27-33 (Paraphrased)
It was a question filled with interesting implications for the curious, the sort of question prurient interests love to dwell on, and it was certain to attract the audience. But sweeping all those implications out the door, "I’m glad you asked that question." Even though it had been asked in ridicule, it sets the scene in which to challenge our priorities in life, that myopia which only sees the present moment. It challenges our hopes, our goals, and all the passions that consume us, the direction that our lives are taking, and our vision of the kingdom.
The Ultimate in Faith
It is the ultimate in Christian faith that we are heirs to a great fortune put in trust for us, that we are children of the resurrection, that the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob is not a God of those who have been buried in the graveyard, dead and gone forever, but a God whose children are alive and well. It is the ultimate in Christian hope that our inheritance is incorruptible and undefiled, reserved for us where thief cannot break through and steal, nor rust corrupt, nor moth destroy. We have his promise. We anticipate the victory of the resurrection in the coming of the Christ who in his first appearing died for us and rose again, and promised that because he lives, we, too, shall live. In that victory we have the ultimate in Christian joy, a bliss no way inferior to that of holy angels in the presence of the Lamb. The Lamb of God, who took away the sin of world, who washed us in his blood and made us worthy to be counted as the sons and daughters of the Kingdom; the Lamb of God, who in his dying on the cross bore all the guilt of all humanity (no way can we begin to comprehend it), this Lamb brought the peace no fear can smother, the joy that has no equal. We heard it at the Easter tomb where angels first proclaimed it. We watched the Lord’s apostles as they carried it around the world, the only message that they knew: "He was offered up for our sins; he was raised again for our salvation." We saw it spread from continent to continent, as dying men and women reached from helplessness for heaven’s help, from hopelessness to living hope. And it became our own when our old sinful nature drowned in the water of baptism and we were given the risen and new life in Christ.
Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again! The news is so astounding, the impact so emotional, that we cannot restrain ourselves. As the Great Thanksgiving of the Eucharistic prayer is spoken, we interrupt with loud exclamation, "Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again!" Could that exclamation tolerate a sleepy mumble from the Sunday saints before whose eyes appears the vision of the great white host before the throne of God, who are about to know the greatest privilege this side of heaven in the banquet of grace? With hearts fixed on his exalted throne from which he condescends to be with us in mercy, life has to bounce with joy.
When all is said and done, when everything we lived for, planned for, worked for, hoped for has been taken from us, when torn hearts spill their grief at graveside, the promise heals. "In my Father’s house are many rooms. I go to prepare a place for you ... and I will come again, and I will take you to myself." And in the not-so-distant future, faith can hear the resurrection trumpet sound. The human scene of decay and death and broken hopes and evaporated dreams fades out, and this bright vision comes in focus, "Behold, I make all things new."
Do You Have a Question?
I suspect that there are many questions, any one of which, if asked sincerely and in truth, would find an understanding heart in Christ. When our physician recommends a surgical procedure for an illness, we have many questions. What are the percentages? How long will I be out of business? What can I expect beyond the surgery and time of convalescence? Of course, what are the charges? But even after all the questions we can think of have been answered, there will be a few surprises. And remember, please, there are no guarantees.
When our financial counselor advises an investment in a mutual fund or in a stock or in municipals, we have questions. What are the percentages? Is this a growth fund or an income fund? What kind of history does the fund recite? But remember, please, there are no guarantees, regardless of how much in your interest your counselor appears to be.
When the travel agent recommends a cruise, we have questions. What does the price include? Inside or outside cabin? How many ports of call along the way? Has the ship’s food service been approved by health inspectors? There are no guarantees that every detail will be delightful, that the sea will be calm, or that the ice cubes in the fruit juice when you come ashore in Cartegena will be pure. Montezuma’s revenge can be frightful, I have learned.
And since we know in certainty that heaven is our home, the resurrection victory is in sight, death has been defeated, everlasting life awaits us, we have questions. While there will be surprises in that heaven, this certainty is guaranteed. But the most important question we can ask today is this one: "Does it make a difference? How can we show the difference?"
This was the question that a young man asked who in his third college year, while home for Christmas, came again to visit with me. In previous visits he had always brought on his heart the turmoil, the confusion, and the doubt his questions reflected, and often while away at college, he would write long letters that expressed the same. This time as he came in, he couldn’t wait to get it out: "I have found perfect peace!" And when I must have looked surprised, he blurted out, "I am now an atheist."
"Tell me about that," I responded.
And he told me. He told me of the dogma he had tried to swallow in his younger years that had been fed to him by parents, and, of course, by me, his pastor. "I choked on it," he said, "and had to use a kind of Heimlich method to pop it from my throat."
He added that in Christians he had known, he heard a lot about the difference their faith made, but never saw it. He cited those knock-em-down-and-drag-em-out encounters that the church (our parish, too) has had where people choose up sides and fire rockets at each other. He recalled a series of false accusations made against the pastor by a clique of dissidents who held secret meetings and were out to get him. He intended that his life was going to make a difference, that he would work for justice, truth, morality, equality, bread for the hungry, and above all, just plain honesty.
He was right, of course, and there could be no argument. Christian values are sometimes more in vogue with atheists than Christians. The only new life he could understand was the new life he intended to create.
His ideals were high, his goals were noble. And his assessment of the little difference that the faith reflects in many could not be contradicted. But I have followed his career with interest, and after a long series of distresses, he is in the fold again - not in my church, but in another. And strangely, it is where the dogma is thick and where the battles rage in public view. His idealisim has been replaced with realism, but I want you to know that this young gentleman today is one solid witness to the difference that the resurrection faith has made in him. He was gone, but he is found.
The Resurrection Life is Now
What difference does it make? The resurrection life is not a deli in the sky where we can purchase our dessert when life’s main course is finished. The resurrection life is now, life lived not for ourselves, but for the God who loved us long before the world was made, who redeemed us at the price of blood, and who has given us new birth. That changes everything in life - the way we run our business, the way we play the game, the language that we use, the way we deal with our oppressors, the way we make investments. It frees us from the chains of our own forging. It removes the handcuffs of our fears, self-centeredness, and selfishness - to touch the leper and the sin-stained and the burdened.
In my first year as a pastor, on one of my first nights in western Canada, I mistakenly tried driving home along a section road. It was just long enough beyond a rain so that the soil had become a sticky mud. After only a few yards, the mud had rolled and balled around the wheels, preventing further progress. There was no way out except to walk. But this soil that grows the finest wheat crops in the world is known as gumbo, and the gumbo sticks and builds and balls around the feet until one’s legs become so heavy that one can hardly move.
I find this a picture of the way our lives are often lived, feet glued to the gumbo, the weight of things, concerns, and interests that stall our spiritual growth. We pan for our share of the gold, pile up reserves for our security, make friends with those who can promote our cause, until the gumbo threatens to glue us to the grave.
The hope-filled Word is this: "I am come that they may have life and have it abundantly." An abundant life, he said, not necessarily abundance in life, for the abundance can easily become the mud, our possessions the possessor, and ourselves the possessed.
God of the Living
God is not a God of the dead, but of the living, and the children of the resurrection live to God. The glow of eternity is in their hearts. The Christ who has prepared a home for us is the guiding light. Does that make a difference?
Glad you asked that question. Now let’s see your answer.
