Fishy Business
7/26/15 (Proper 12 / Ordinary 17 B, Semi-Continuous)
2 Samuel 11:1-15; John 6:1-21
Looking at this week’s texts, especially the text from 2 Samuel, it never ceases to amaze me how much things have changed, and yet at the same time, how things are still as much the same as they have always been. Perhaps it’s only because we’re more connected, able to be more aware of these things, but it feels like lately, we’ve become a people who live on scandals. Every week, there’s a new outrage, a new scandal, a new conversation being hotly debated among our friends and acquaintances. As violent tragedies continue to abound and people continue to be hurt and killed in our country, the debates over guns, race, politics, and more are re-ignited. Celebrities are constantly saying or doing something that sets us abuzz in indignation or outrage, and then apologizing for it a few days later after the publicity has waned. Petitions and protests are popping up all over the place as people tell us that we’re supposed to be upset with one corporation or political issue, and then the next day the position is turned, or the issue is completely reversed. It almost doesn’t matter what the problems actually are - as long as we have some kind of conflict, some kind of scandal to keep us occupied and arguing amongst ourselves, all seems to be right in the world.
As we reflect on these situations, I’d like to take a moment to imagine what a report from the “Nazareth Nightly News” might look like in the context of our passage from 2 Samuel. Reporters from every major network would be streaming live from the House of David as more details become available about the king who abused his power, neglected his duties, and involved himself in the scandal and coverup of the century. The pundits and talking heads would be having a field day - David was supposed to be at the forefront of the battle; this was the “time when kings go out to battle,” after all, but he stays at the palace while his own soldiers carry on the battle. And, as if ignoring the responsibilities of his office wasn’t bad enough, David compounds the issue by then going on to abuse his position of authority and to utterly take advantage of the wife of one of the soldiers out on the front line! This kind of indiscretion would be enough to get a president impeached on its own, but David goes on to bring himself down even further by trying to cover up his own wrongdoing by encouraging Uriah to take a furlough, spend some quality time with his wife, and suddenly discover that he’s about to be a daddy. And when Uriah, good soldier that he is, refuses to enjoy himself while his brothers at arms are still fighting on the frontlines, David goes to his lowest and orders Uriah and his men to the front lines and their deaths - all so that David can have Bathsheba to himself.
Indiscretion, abuse of power, cover-ups - all sound distinctively familiar to our modern ears. This isn’t a story that we tend to tell very much in our congregations, and I think for pretty understandable reasons. This isn’t the David that the church chooses to remember - we remember the David who slew Goliath, the David who shepherded sheep and wrote psalms, the David who honored Saul, despite Saul trying to kill him, the David who established Israel as a great and prosperous kingdom, the David who was one of the greatest kings in Israel’s history. Even when we do happen to look at this story, particularly through the eyes of religious art, we romanticize the tale to lessen the stain on David’s memory. We think David only committed adultery, that Bathsheba must have done something to entice him, that “it takes two to tango,” but forget the fact that Bathsheba really had no choice in the matter - how do you say no to a King? Our picture of King David, tarnished though it is, is ultimately still important - we need David, the shining King, because Jesus comes directly from David’s line. And since Jesus, the author and founder of our faith, was good and perfect in every way, we obviously have to elevate his ancestry to higher levels as well. It just doesn’t do to have a perfect messiah come from a long line of broken, imperfect people - does it?
Yet this is the very thing that makes Jesus so profound, that demonstrates God’s grace in every aspect of our lives. A low-down, scheming, adulterous scum-bag like David can find forgiveness and be the great ancestor of a Messiah. A drunkard can be selected by God to build an ark and save creation from utter destruction. A murderer with a speech impediment is chosen by God to help lead an entire people out of slavery in Egypt and into the promised land. And the offering of a simple five loaves and two fish by a little boy can be used by God to feed a multitude of over 5,000 people.
The news may be filled with scandal and trauma, with pain, deceit, and hard consequences, but like David, an individual’s mistakes need not always define their story. Amidst tragedy, there is hope. In a world of sin, we can find forgiveness. Our God is a God of the unexpected - and thank God for that very thing. God takes that which is broken and uses it to establish a foundation for our salvation. Christ calls out the underdog, the runt, the little brother, the prostitute, the tax collector, and the drunk, and lifts them up to greater purposes. Just as he took the fish and loaves, Jesus takes our gifts, our offerings, lifts them up, gives thanks to God for them, and then uses them to bless multitudes. There is a divine irony at work in our calling that can’t be ignored, but can only be appreciated with the gratitude of the forgiven. Despite the skepticism of the disciples, despite the jaded attitude of the world and its desire to villainize those who make mistakes, Christ takes us by the hand, tells us “You are forgiven,” and then tells us to go out and do likewise. So let us go out into the world, let us offer up our fish and our loaves, and let us rely on the grace of God, which surpasses all understanding and lifts us up to higher purposes for His glory. Amen.
2 Samuel 11:1-15; John 6:1-21
Fishy Business
Looking at this week’s texts, especially the text from 2 Samuel, it never ceases to amaze me how much things have changed, and yet at the same time, how things are still as much the same as they have always been. Perhaps it’s only because we’re more connected, able to be more aware of these things, but it feels like lately, we’ve become a people who live on scandals. Every week, there’s a new outrage, a new scandal, a new conversation being hotly debated among our friends and acquaintances. As violent tragedies continue to abound and people continue to be hurt and killed in our country, the debates over guns, race, politics, and more are re-ignited. Celebrities are constantly saying or doing something that sets us abuzz in indignation or outrage, and then apologizing for it a few days later after the publicity has waned. Petitions and protests are popping up all over the place as people tell us that we’re supposed to be upset with one corporation or political issue, and then the next day the position is turned, or the issue is completely reversed. It almost doesn’t matter what the problems actually are - as long as we have some kind of conflict, some kind of scandal to keep us occupied and arguing amongst ourselves, all seems to be right in the world.
As we reflect on these situations, I’d like to take a moment to imagine what a report from the “Nazareth Nightly News” might look like in the context of our passage from 2 Samuel. Reporters from every major network would be streaming live from the House of David as more details become available about the king who abused his power, neglected his duties, and involved himself in the scandal and coverup of the century. The pundits and talking heads would be having a field day - David was supposed to be at the forefront of the battle; this was the “time when kings go out to battle,” after all, but he stays at the palace while his own soldiers carry on the battle. And, as if ignoring the responsibilities of his office wasn’t bad enough, David compounds the issue by then going on to abuse his position of authority and to utterly take advantage of the wife of one of the soldiers out on the front line! This kind of indiscretion would be enough to get a president impeached on its own, but David goes on to bring himself down even further by trying to cover up his own wrongdoing by encouraging Uriah to take a furlough, spend some quality time with his wife, and suddenly discover that he’s about to be a daddy. And when Uriah, good soldier that he is, refuses to enjoy himself while his brothers at arms are still fighting on the frontlines, David goes to his lowest and orders Uriah and his men to the front lines and their deaths - all so that David can have Bathsheba to himself.
Indiscretion, abuse of power, cover-ups - all sound distinctively familiar to our modern ears. This isn’t a story that we tend to tell very much in our congregations, and I think for pretty understandable reasons. This isn’t the David that the church chooses to remember - we remember the David who slew Goliath, the David who shepherded sheep and wrote psalms, the David who honored Saul, despite Saul trying to kill him, the David who established Israel as a great and prosperous kingdom, the David who was one of the greatest kings in Israel’s history. Even when we do happen to look at this story, particularly through the eyes of religious art, we romanticize the tale to lessen the stain on David’s memory. We think David only committed adultery, that Bathsheba must have done something to entice him, that “it takes two to tango,” but forget the fact that Bathsheba really had no choice in the matter - how do you say no to a King? Our picture of King David, tarnished though it is, is ultimately still important - we need David, the shining King, because Jesus comes directly from David’s line. And since Jesus, the author and founder of our faith, was good and perfect in every way, we obviously have to elevate his ancestry to higher levels as well. It just doesn’t do to have a perfect messiah come from a long line of broken, imperfect people - does it?
Yet this is the very thing that makes Jesus so profound, that demonstrates God’s grace in every aspect of our lives. A low-down, scheming, adulterous scum-bag like David can find forgiveness and be the great ancestor of a Messiah. A drunkard can be selected by God to build an ark and save creation from utter destruction. A murderer with a speech impediment is chosen by God to help lead an entire people out of slavery in Egypt and into the promised land. And the offering of a simple five loaves and two fish by a little boy can be used by God to feed a multitude of over 5,000 people.
The news may be filled with scandal and trauma, with pain, deceit, and hard consequences, but like David, an individual’s mistakes need not always define their story. Amidst tragedy, there is hope. In a world of sin, we can find forgiveness. Our God is a God of the unexpected - and thank God for that very thing. God takes that which is broken and uses it to establish a foundation for our salvation. Christ calls out the underdog, the runt, the little brother, the prostitute, the tax collector, and the drunk, and lifts them up to greater purposes. Just as he took the fish and loaves, Jesus takes our gifts, our offerings, lifts them up, gives thanks to God for them, and then uses them to bless multitudes. There is a divine irony at work in our calling that can’t be ignored, but can only be appreciated with the gratitude of the forgiven. Despite the skepticism of the disciples, despite the jaded attitude of the world and its desire to villainize those who make mistakes, Christ takes us by the hand, tells us “You are forgiven,” and then tells us to go out and do likewise. So let us go out into the world, let us offer up our fish and our loaves, and let us rely on the grace of God, which surpasses all understanding and lifts us up to higher purposes for His glory. Amen.
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