Dylan's lectionary blog

Proper 7, Year C

Luke 9:18-24 - link to NRSV text

Ah, the tyranny of expectations.

Actually, I probably should have said, "Ah, how tyrants make use of expectations."

It's one of the simplest ways to keep people in line, it seems. Find a category that applies to them (e.g., men, women). Tell them that their behavior does not fit the category. Scramble to watch them adjust their behavior to convince you that they're a real man, woman, American, or what-have-you.

The odd thing about the categories that are most effective for use in this little game is that they're about identity -- about who and what you just are. John de Beer, one of the rectors (we've got co-rectors) I work with, likes to tell the story of how he coached his sons through anxiety about what "real" men could and could not do. "What do you see when you unzip your trousers and look down?" he'd say, "You are a man. What you do is what a man does."

John suggests that one could think about identity as a Christian that way. Are you a Christian? What you do is what a Christian does. It's not like you've been playing the part in regional theater and you're still trying out for a chance to do the "real thing." It's not a part you're playing; it's who you are. It's an interesting thought, isn't it? I think that's pretty much what Augustine was talking about when he said, "Love God, and do what you will." If you do love God, if your identity is in your relationship with God, then the other things follow.

The tyrants -- people who want to set themselves up as the authorities in your life, taking the place of God, who is the only one rightly called "lord" or "father" -- REALLY don't like that. They push back. I think they often mean well. They want you to succeed. But "success" in that scheme just enslaves you further to their expectations.

I don't want to imply that Jesus was undergoing some kind of internal, Western-style identity crisis; that's foreign to Jesus' culture (which was what anthropologists call an "honor/shame culture" -- more info on that in this book). When Jesus asks "Who do the crowds say that I am?" it's in a culture in which that's a serious question to ask straightforwardly. And the crowd's response is a good one: Jesus is a prophet, in the tradition of John the Baptizer and Elijah. He speaks truth to power; he reminds people that the God of Israel is Lord, and wants people to extend justice and mercy in community.

Then Jesus asks his friends, "Who do you say that I am?" (By the way, this question also illustrates how identity in Jesus' culture comes from the group -- this isn't the angsty Jesus of Last Temptation, much as I liked that movie.) Peter answers, "You are anointed by God." 'Anointed' is what 'Messiah' means. And that answer clearly bothers Jesus. Prophets were sometimes (literally) anointed, and Jesus consistently embraces the role of prophet. But the other two big categories of people who were anointed were high priests and kings, and those are seriously problematic for Jesus.

Jesus doesn't want to head up the Temple hierarchy, and he doesn't want to head up the palace hierarchy; his prophetic ministry undermines both. And just try for a moment to imagine Jesus serving as high priest or king as those roles were defined. As high priest (not, mind you, that he was of the right bloodline for that role), he'd be the one on whose purity (as in "don't come into contact with anything or anyone impure") the whole nation's observance of Day of Atonement would depend, as I've blogged a bit about before. As king, the nation's success would depend on his being taken seriously by neighboring rulers. He'd have to play the part, demonstrate his power by erecting palaces and temples, paid for with taxes on the poor he called "blessed." He'd have to command armies -- and "turn the other cheek" wouldn't fly with them as a national defense policy.

That wasn't Jesus' vocation, so he refuses to be defined by those expectations. Rather than accept the 'anointing' of others' recognition of his lordship and worthiness of his sacrifice, he LIVES his vocation; he exercises the power he has -- the power God gives him -- rather than accept the power others would give him.

That strikes me as a good strategy. There are still people who start from the categories -- Jesus is Lord, at the right hand of God the Father, who is pure, holy, and righteous -- and move from there to how Jesus, and the Spirit whom Jesus breathes on his followers, ought to (and therefore do -- after all, God can't break God's own laws!) behave. That puts God in a box.

Another approach is to look at how Jesus behaves, to look for what the Spirit is doing -- and scripture and the living tradition of the Church are key in that process, of course -- and then, knowing that Jesus is Lord and the Spirit is the Spirit of the God of Israel, let that inform our theology. We can take to heart Augustine's "love God, and do what you will." We can anoint what Jesus does, rather than expect Jesus to live into what we anoint.

Thanks be to God!

Proper 7, Year C

Luke 9:18-24 - link to NRSV text

Ah, the tyranny of expectations.

Actually, I probably should have said, "Ah, how tyrants make use of expectations."

It's one of the simplest ways to keep people in line, it seems. Find a category that applies to them (e.g., men, women). Tell them that their behavior does not fit the category. Scramble to watch them adjust their behavior to convince you that they're a real man, woman, American, or what-have-you.

The odd thing about the categories that are most effective for use in this little game is that they're about identity -- about who and what you just are. John de Beer, one of the rectors (we've got co-rectors) I work with, likes to tell the story of how he coached his sons through anxiety about what "real" men could and could not do. "What do you see when you unzip your trousers and look down?" he'd say, "You are a man. What you do is what a man does."

John suggests that one could think about identity as a Christian that way. Are you a Christian? What you do is what a Christian does. It's not like you've been playing the part in regional theater and you're still trying out for a chance to do the "real thing." It's not a part you're playing; it's who you are. It's an interesting thought, isn't it? I think that's pretty much what Augustine was talking about when he said, "Love God, and do what you will." If you do love God, if your identity is in your relationship with God, then the other things follow.

The tyrants -- people who want to set themselves up as the authorities in your life, taking the place of God, who is the only one rightly called "lord" or "father" -- REALLY don't like that. They push back. I think they often mean well. They want you to succeed. But "success" in that scheme just enslaves you further to their expectations.

I don't want to imply that Jesus was undergoing some kind of internal, Western-style identity crisis; that's foreign to Jesus' culture (which was what anthropologists call an "honor/shame culture" -- more info on that in this book). When Jesus asks "Who do the crowds say that I am?" it's in a culture in which that's a serious question to ask straightforwardly. And the crowd's response is a good one: Jesus is a prophet, in the tradition of John the Baptizer and Elijah. He speaks truth to power; he reminds people that the God of Israel is Lord, and wants people to extend justice and mercy in community.

Then Jesus asks his friends, "Who do you say that I am?" (By the way, this question also illustrates how identity in Jesus' culture comes from the group -- this isn't the angsty Jesus of Last Temptation, much as I liked that movie.) Peter answers, "You are anointed by God." 'Anointed' is what 'Messiah' means. And that answer clearly bothers Jesus. Prophets were sometimes (literally) anointed, and Jesus consistently embraces the role of prophet. But the other two big categories of people who were anointed were high priests and kings, and those are seriously problematic for Jesus.

Jesus doesn't want to head up the Temple hierarchy, and he doesn't want to head up the palace hierarchy; his prophetic ministry undermines both. And just try for a moment to imagine Jesus serving as high priest or king as those roles were defined. As high priest (not, mind you, that he was of the right bloodline for that role), he'd be the one on whose purity (as in "don't come into contact with anything or anyone impure") the whole nation's observance of Day of Atonement would depend, as I've blogged a bit about before. As king, the nation's success would depend on his being taken seriously by neighboring rulers. He'd have to play the part, demonstrate his power by erecting palaces and temples, paid for with taxes on the poor he called "blessed." He'd have to command armies -- and "turn the other cheek" wouldn't fly with them as a national defense policy.

That wasn't Jesus' vocation, so he refuses to be defined by those expectations. Rather than accept the 'anointing' of others' recognition of his lordship and worthiness of his sacrifice, he LIVES his vocation; he exercises the power he has -- the power God gives him -- rather than accept the power others would give him.

That strikes me as a good strategy. There are still people who start from the categories -- Jesus is Lord, at the right hand of God the Father, who is pure, holy, and righteous -- and move from there to how Jesus, and the Spirit whom Jesus breathes on his followers, ought to (and therefore do -- after all, God can't break God's own laws!) behave. That puts God in a box.

Another approach is to look at how Jesus behaves, to look for what the Spirit is doing -- and scripture and the living tradition of the Church are key in that process, of course -- and then, knowing that Jesus is Lord and the Spirit is the Spirit of the God of Israel, let that inform our theology. We can take to heart Augustine's "love God, and do what you will." We can anoint what Jesus does, rather than expect Jesus to live into what we anoint.

Thanks be to God!

Comments

Proper 7, Year C

Luke 9:18-24 - link to NRSV text

Ah, the tyranny of expectations.

Actually, I probably should have said, "Ah, how tyrants make use of expectations."

It's one of the simplest ways to keep people in line, it seems. Find a category that applies to them (e.g., men, women). Tell them that their behavior does not fit the category. Scramble to watch them adjust their behavior to convince you that they're a real man, woman, American, or what-have-you.

The odd thing about the categories that are most effective for use in this little game is that they're about identity -- about who and what you just are. John de Beer, one of the rectors (we've got co-rectors) I work with, likes to tell the story of how he coached his sons through anxiety about what "real" men could and could not do. "What do you see when you unzip your trousers and look down?" he'd say, "You are a man. What you do is what a man does."

John suggests that one could think about identity as a Christian that way. Are you a Christian? What you do is what a Christian does. It's not like you've been playing the part in regional theater and you're still trying out for a chance to do the "real thing." It's not a part you're playing; it's who you are. It's an interesting thought, isn't it? I think that's pretty much what Augustine was talking about when he said, "Love God, and do what you will." If you do love God, if your identity is in your relationship with God, then the other things follow.

The tyrants -- people who want to set themselves up as the authorities in your life, taking the place of God, who is the only one rightly called "lord" or "father" -- REALLY don't like that. They push back. I think they often mean well. They want you to succeed. But "success" in that scheme just enslaves you further to their expectations.

I don't want to imply that Jesus was undergoing some kind of internal, Western-style identity crisis; that's foreign to Jesus' culture (which was what anthropologists call an "honor/shame culture" -- more info on that in this book). When Jesus asks "Who do the crowds say that I am?" it's in a culture in which that's a serious question to ask straightforwardly. And the crowd's response is a good one: Jesus is a prophet, in the tradition of John the Baptizer and Elijah. He speaks truth to power; he reminds people that the God of Israel is Lord, and wants people to extend justice and mercy in community.

Then Jesus asks his friends, "Who do you say that I am?" (By the way, this question also illustrates how identity in Jesus' culture comes from the group -- this isn't the angsty Jesus of Last Temptation, much as I liked that movie.) Peter answers, "You are anointed by God." 'Anointed' is what 'Messiah' means. And that answer clearly bothers Jesus. Prophets were sometimes (literally) anointed, and Jesus consistently embraces the role of prophet. But the other two big categories of people who were anointed were high priests and kings, and those are seriously problematic for Jesus.

Jesus doesn't want to head up the Temple hierarchy, and he doesn't want to head up the palace hierarchy; his prophetic ministry undermines both. And just try for a moment to imagine Jesus serving as high priest or king as those roles were defined. As high priest (not, mind you, that he was of the right bloodline for that role), he'd be the one on whose purity (as in "don't come into contact with anything or anyone impure") the whole nation's observance of Day of Atonement would depend, as I've blogged a bit about before. As king, the nation's success would depend on his being taken seriously by neighboring rulers. He'd have to play the part, demonstrate his power by erecting palaces and temples, paid for with taxes on the poor he called "blessed." He'd have to command armies -- and "turn the other cheek" wouldn't fly with them as a national defense policy.

That wasn't Jesus' vocation, so he refuses to be defined by those expectations. Rather than accept the 'anointing' of others' recognition of his lordship and worthiness of his sacrifice, he LIVES his vocation; he exercises the power he has -- the power God gives him -- rather than accept the power others would give him.

That strikes me as a good strategy. There are still people who start from the categories -- Jesus is Lord, at the right hand of God the Father, who is pure, holy, and righteous -- and move from there to how Jesus, and the Spirit whom Jesus breathes on his followers, ought to (and therefore do -- after all, God can't break God's own laws!) behave. That puts God in a box.

Another approach is to look at how Jesus behaves, to look for what the Spirit is doing -- and scripture and the living tradition of the Church are key in that process, of course -- and then, knowing that Jesus is Lord and the Spirit is the Spirit of the God of Israel, let that inform our theology. We can take to heart Augustine's "love God, and do what you will." We can anoint what Jesus does, rather than expect Jesus to live into what we anoint.

Thanks be to God!

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