Can you become so familiar with a good truth in the Bible, so as to totally miss it's intent?
I recently was listening to a speaker deliver a sermon on a biblical passage in the Gospel of John, the story where Jesus went to visit a sick friend (Lazarus), but got there too late to save his life. (You can find the story in John 11).
Lazarus had two sisters tending to him, Mary and Martha, and they'd sent word to Jesus to come quickly and offer a healing touch to their brother, appealing to the fact that Lazarus was someone "whom You love" (v. 3). This particular Mary was a former prostitute with a deeply stained past as far a Jewish Law was concerned, and a woman who had been greatly honored by Jesus when everyone of influence and position had written her off as worthless trash...she had a deep connection to Jesus. It must have surprised them greatly when He failed to show on time, and Lazarus passed away. It must have been even more unnerving (maybe even enraging?) that Jesus finally shows up after the funeral was underway (by this time Lazarus had already been dead and buried in the cave/tomb for four days). When word came that Jesus was finally on the scene, Martha went to meet him, and shortly afterward called for Mary.
When Mary came to Jesus, she'd obviously brought a few questions that she wanted answered. Mind you, she still revered Him and loved Him in the purest sense (none of that stupid "Last Temptation of Christ" crap), but she was confused and hurting, probably as much by the death of her brother as by how long it took Jesus to arrive. Her first words to Jesus were, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!" It's at this point of the story that John tells us that Jesus became "deeply moved in spirit, and was troubled." In His empathy with those He made and loved, "Jesus wept," though He knew full well He was about to change the whole tone of the funeral by raising Lazarus from the dead (which He did). The speaker made an excellent point that the true miracle in this story was not that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (life and death are the prerogative of God), but that He entered into the pain of His people and joined with them, Creator with creation. I liked that point (and actually used it when I delivered the opening sermon at my Mom's memorial service some years ago).
It was at this point in the sermon that the speaker shared something that piqued my curiosity...and elicited a response from a few in the audience that made me wince.
The speaker shared that, on several occasions after speaking on this passage in the past, he'd been approached by a few folks who'd been unnerved or irritated by Jesus' seeming reluctance to act in a timely manner, thus causing Mary and Martha unnecessary grief (particularly if He intended to make things better later on). The speaker related that one woman had met with him immediately after one of his sermons, and protested (rather loudly, I think) "Why did Jesus have to be so mean!"
Several things occurred simultaneously as soon as the speaker related this. First, my mind went into action, and I wondered to myself what the response from this speaker was. The woman asking this question must have made some personal connections with Mary's question...'Jesus, you had plenty of warning and knew bad things were going to happen, why didn't You do something!' The questioning woman probably had experiences in her life when she asked God the same thing, and probably never received a definitive answer directly from God, so she posed the question (albeit, in what might have seemed like personally hostile tones) to this speaker. That speaker's interpretation of the question and very next response had the power to nudge this woman on one of two courses: toward God or away from Him. Jesus knew Mary was at the same juncture, and He tailored His response to what she needed from Him most. He went with her to the tomb, and grieved with her..."Jesus wept."
The second thing that happened simultaneously with my pondering, when the speaker finished his sentence was this: several in the audience snickered.
When you've grown up among the "churched", you become familiar with biblical stories and basic concepts. Most of them we "churched' folks learned in Sunday School growing up, and saw illustrated on felt boards with cut-out felt figures representing Adam and Eve, and Moses, and Elijah and Elisha, Jesus and the Disciples, Paul, etc. (though no Sunday School teacher the whole time I was growing up illustrated anything out of Leviticus having to do with "sores that ooze pus", as much as I thought that might be cool!). Most of us "churched" folks had probably seen this story illustrated on the felt board, too, and knew that Jesus had actually waited extra time before leaving to see His sick friend, because He knew that the Father was going to use this tragedy to strengthen the faith of those who observed the raising of Lazarus from the dead. Sometimes, when you're familiar with the stories, statements like the woman in the speaker's example seem naive, silly, insolent, outrageous...and maybe on a strictly theological level, it was pretty uninformed.
But on another level, it said something more deeply (I think) about the ones who snickered...they didn't see the comment as anything more than an angry fist-shake at a sovereign God, though I think it could have been more properly taken as a cry for help and an expression of deep fear (even if it was worded more insolently). The snickers seemed condescending, and I can't help but wonder whether the speaker set up the story to naturally elicit that response...I sort of got the feeling by his response ("Well, some people do feel that way" and "How are you defining 'mean'?) that on some level, he was snickering at her, too. I could be very wrong, and have misread his intentions of telling this story...but he made no efforts to clarify his remarks after the snickering took place...I hope I'm wrong. If the snickers were condescending, those folks missed the whole point of the first half of the talk...Jesus' miracle was that He, as omnipotent God, transcended into human frailty to experience the pain of those He loved, though He did not immediately do anything that was expected of Him to remove the pain. That didn't seem to be the sentiment of those who were snickering.
I wondered still, where that conversation turned after this woman confronted the speaker with that challenging question. "How could Jesus have been so mean?" By responding "how are you defining 'mean'?", the speaker wasn't transcending into this woman's story...he was trying to fix her thinking so that it was more "correct," and perhaps he emotions would be less messy to deal with on the spot. I wonder what that did to the soul of this questioning woman? Did it reinforce her suspicion that Jesus really was that uncaring and "mean," using the pain of others to bring Himself attention in spite of the seemingly empathic appearance of grief? Did it further reinforce her fear that the people of God were no more interested in the state of her soul than it appeared Jesus was, when she first started hurting? This woman, I might add, is a responsible agent for her own thoughts and responses to God...but I wondered whether this teacher of God didn't throw an unnecessary stumbling block into this woman's path to finding God. And had someone been waiting in line behind her to converse with that speaker, and snickered....
So all this rambling of mine begs the question: how would I have responded? I won't say, how should the speaker have responded...that's presumptuous. But here's what I hope I would have had the presence of mind to respond with, in the face of an angry challenge about the goodness of God: "I'm wondering whether you've had some experiences with God, that cause you to identify with Martha's and Mary's pain and frustrations. Am I right? This story often touches a raw nerve with folks who have, and I don't have a quick and easy answer for you...but I'd like to hear your story when you've got some time to share it with my undivided attention." In counseling school, they called that kind of response a "door opener", an indication that the hearer is not "put off" by the way the initial message was delivered, that a more significant but possibly hidden message lay underneath the words that were initially used, and there was willingness to hear the real message borne out at length...not for the purpose of fixing anything (until the one sharing actually wants that kind of help) or relieving the hearer's discomfort, but to give room to the "tell-er's" full expression. That's transcendence...snickering is condescension. There's a huge difference: one gives life, the other kills.
Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.
- Proverbs 18:21, NASU
I recently was listening to a speaker deliver a sermon on a biblical passage in the Gospel of John, the story where Jesus went to visit a sick friend (Lazarus), but got there too late to save his life. (You can find the story in John 11).
Lazarus had two sisters tending to him, Mary and Martha, and they'd sent word to Jesus to come quickly and offer a healing touch to their brother, appealing to the fact that Lazarus was someone "whom You love" (v. 3). This particular Mary was a former prostitute with a deeply stained past as far a Jewish Law was concerned, and a woman who had been greatly honored by Jesus when everyone of influence and position had written her off as worthless trash...she had a deep connection to Jesus. It must have surprised them greatly when He failed to show on time, and Lazarus passed away. It must have been even more unnerving (maybe even enraging?) that Jesus finally shows up after the funeral was underway (by this time Lazarus had already been dead and buried in the cave/tomb for four days). When word came that Jesus was finally on the scene, Martha went to meet him, and shortly afterward called for Mary.
When Mary came to Jesus, she'd obviously brought a few questions that she wanted answered. Mind you, she still revered Him and loved Him in the purest sense (none of that stupid "Last Temptation of Christ" crap), but she was confused and hurting, probably as much by the death of her brother as by how long it took Jesus to arrive. Her first words to Jesus were, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!" It's at this point of the story that John tells us that Jesus became "deeply moved in spirit, and was troubled." In His empathy with those He made and loved, "Jesus wept," though He knew full well He was about to change the whole tone of the funeral by raising Lazarus from the dead (which He did). The speaker made an excellent point that the true miracle in this story was not that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (life and death are the prerogative of God), but that He entered into the pain of His people and joined with them, Creator with creation. I liked that point (and actually used it when I delivered the opening sermon at my Mom's memorial service some years ago).
It was at this point in the sermon that the speaker shared something that piqued my curiosity...and elicited a response from a few in the audience that made me wince.
The speaker shared that, on several occasions after speaking on this passage in the past, he'd been approached by a few folks who'd been unnerved or irritated by Jesus' seeming reluctance to act in a timely manner, thus causing Mary and Martha unnecessary grief (particularly if He intended to make things better later on). The speaker related that one woman had met with him immediately after one of his sermons, and protested (rather loudly, I think) "Why did Jesus have to be so mean!"
Several things occurred simultaneously as soon as the speaker related this. First, my mind went into action, and I wondered to myself what the response from this speaker was. The woman asking this question must have made some personal connections with Mary's question...'Jesus, you had plenty of warning and knew bad things were going to happen, why didn't You do something!' The questioning woman probably had experiences in her life when she asked God the same thing, and probably never received a definitive answer directly from God, so she posed the question (albeit, in what might have seemed like personally hostile tones) to this speaker. That speaker's interpretation of the question and very next response had the power to nudge this woman on one of two courses: toward God or away from Him. Jesus knew Mary was at the same juncture, and He tailored His response to what she needed from Him most. He went with her to the tomb, and grieved with her..."Jesus wept."
The second thing that happened simultaneously with my pondering, when the speaker finished his sentence was this: several in the audience snickered.
When you've grown up among the "churched", you become familiar with biblical stories and basic concepts. Most of them we "churched' folks learned in Sunday School growing up, and saw illustrated on felt boards with cut-out felt figures representing Adam and Eve, and Moses, and Elijah and Elisha, Jesus and the Disciples, Paul, etc. (though no Sunday School teacher the whole time I was growing up illustrated anything out of Leviticus having to do with "sores that ooze pus", as much as I thought that might be cool!). Most of us "churched" folks had probably seen this story illustrated on the felt board, too, and knew that Jesus had actually waited extra time before leaving to see His sick friend, because He knew that the Father was going to use this tragedy to strengthen the faith of those who observed the raising of Lazarus from the dead. Sometimes, when you're familiar with the stories, statements like the woman in the speaker's example seem naive, silly, insolent, outrageous...and maybe on a strictly theological level, it was pretty uninformed.
But on another level, it said something more deeply (I think) about the ones who snickered...they didn't see the comment as anything more than an angry fist-shake at a sovereign God, though I think it could have been more properly taken as a cry for help and an expression of deep fear (even if it was worded more insolently). The snickers seemed condescending, and I can't help but wonder whether the speaker set up the story to naturally elicit that response...I sort of got the feeling by his response ("Well, some people do feel that way" and "How are you defining 'mean'?) that on some level, he was snickering at her, too. I could be very wrong, and have misread his intentions of telling this story...but he made no efforts to clarify his remarks after the snickering took place...I hope I'm wrong. If the snickers were condescending, those folks missed the whole point of the first half of the talk...Jesus' miracle was that He, as omnipotent God, transcended into human frailty to experience the pain of those He loved, though He did not immediately do anything that was expected of Him to remove the pain. That didn't seem to be the sentiment of those who were snickering.
I wondered still, where that conversation turned after this woman confronted the speaker with that challenging question. "How could Jesus have been so mean?" By responding "how are you defining 'mean'?", the speaker wasn't transcending into this woman's story...he was trying to fix her thinking so that it was more "correct," and perhaps he emotions would be less messy to deal with on the spot. I wonder what that did to the soul of this questioning woman? Did it reinforce her suspicion that Jesus really was that uncaring and "mean," using the pain of others to bring Himself attention in spite of the seemingly empathic appearance of grief? Did it further reinforce her fear that the people of God were no more interested in the state of her soul than it appeared Jesus was, when she first started hurting? This woman, I might add, is a responsible agent for her own thoughts and responses to God...but I wondered whether this teacher of God didn't throw an unnecessary stumbling block into this woman's path to finding God. And had someone been waiting in line behind her to converse with that speaker, and snickered....
So all this rambling of mine begs the question: how would I have responded? I won't say, how should the speaker have responded...that's presumptuous. But here's what I hope I would have had the presence of mind to respond with, in the face of an angry challenge about the goodness of God: "I'm wondering whether you've had some experiences with God, that cause you to identify with Martha's and Mary's pain and frustrations. Am I right? This story often touches a raw nerve with folks who have, and I don't have a quick and easy answer for you...but I'd like to hear your story when you've got some time to share it with my undivided attention." In counseling school, they called that kind of response a "door opener", an indication that the hearer is not "put off" by the way the initial message was delivered, that a more significant but possibly hidden message lay underneath the words that were initially used, and there was willingness to hear the real message borne out at length...not for the purpose of fixing anything (until the one sharing actually wants that kind of help) or relieving the hearer's discomfort, but to give room to the "tell-er's" full expression. That's transcendence...snickering is condescension. There's a huge difference: one gives life, the other kills.
Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.
- Proverbs 18:21, NASU
No comments:
Post a Comment