Proper 26, Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time – November 2, 2014

By David Grant Smith

Joshua 3:7-17

This first reading for this Sunday offers us a story about how Joshua continued Moses’ work of leading the Israelites into the “promised land.”The story (and the greater narrative of which this reading is only a small part) is problematic, in that it tells a story of people who believed that God was telling them to invade a large swath of territory already inhabited by other peoples, and to essentially get rid of them so that the Israelites could become the sole inhabitants of the land. This idea of “manifest destiny” is a familiar refrain in the song of history, which has been repeated in many places around the globe (including on the North American continent) to the detriment of any native inhabitants. That overarching theme of the Joshua text is present in our contemporary context for that same piece of geography today; here and now in the twenty-first century, we have ongoing conflict in Israel and Palestine as the latest chapter in the ongoing conflict based on the question: “Do you belong here, or do I?”

There is no easy way to grapple with the biblical (or any other) construct of manifest destiny. We as process-relational thinkers don’t believe that the land “belongs” to any one group of people, or that any one group of people doesn’t belong in a particular geographical region. We affirm the notion that the diversity of humanity is an expression of God’s creative potential, and that it is an affirmation of our being empowered by God to be co-creators with God and each other in making the world a better place. So the idea of one community having a greater entitlement to life in a particular place at the expense of another is wrong. Marginalization and displacement are contrary to what we believe to be the initial aim of God’s primordial nature. Yet, we know that the human condition is rife with assertions to the contrary. We live in a world where noble and hopeful thoughts of coexistence and harmony are asserted alongside thoughts of domination and subjugation. (Kyrie, eleison.) There may be no easy way forward, but the discerning heart can be called to name for itself (and for others, if necessary) whatever is a pathway toward peace, rather than a highway to more conflict.

As for the other pieces of this particular story, it could be, perhaps, a temptation for a preacher to focus on the miracle of the river standing still so that the Israelites can pass through it without getting wet. Miracle stories, and biblical encounters of a more supernatural sort, have the ability to draw the modern reader/hearer away from the trajectory of the story itself, focusing on the spectacular details rather than the overarching narrative and any essential message it may bear.

In this story, there can be several themes that point to the narrative’s trajectory rather than the special effects used in the delivery of it. One such theme is the idea of continuity — Joshua leads the Israelites out of the wilderness into the promised land in much the same way that Moses led them out of Egypt’s slavery into freedom. Another narrative theme which could be explored is the use of intentionality as a spiritual discipline —it was with measured steps and calculated efforts that the Israelites proceeded from one chapter of their communal life into another, fully aware that their actions were themselves part of a Liturgy making them all aware of their relationship with God and each other. Another idea which is encapsulated in this text is that of stewardship (a rather popular theme this time of year for preachers in traditions with pledge campaigns!). Setting aside the problem of manifest destiny (as considered above), the land into which they are entering is a gift from God; and the community entering into it has a responsibility to care for it as something which they and God will inhabit together — a place where they and God will co-create in a relationship of mutual love and respect (or at least that’s the goal of the story — whether it was ever actualized or not is another thing altogether). And, ultimately, the theme of an omnipresent God is at the heart of the entire story of the biblical narrative — God is everywhere; and God is always with us, luring us toward God’s own primordial characteristics of beauty, truth, adventure, zest, peace, love, and justice.

Psalm 107:1-7, 33-37

Chosen to be a reflection on (or response to) the reading from Joshua, these verses of Psalm 107 are a liturgical recitation of the narrative of the ancient Israelites’ journey into the “promised land,” and their establishment of a new nation in a new place, and the way that the nation (and the land on which it was established) evolved into something wonder-filled. Collective memory, though a double-edged sword at times, can be a wonderful thing if it doesn’t force us to build idols out of the past, before which we are held captive and forced to kneel in worship. To be mindful of a communal past can be a way of taking stock of where we are now, while at the same time giving thanks for the many blessings we have experienced along life’s journey, as a life-review can do.

In process-relational theology, we affirm an anthropology which asserts that our past is always with us. Those things which we have individually and/or collectively experienced in our past work together with present circumstances to shape us into how we interact with each moment of our lives. With that said, though, we don’t believe that our past is deterministic of what our future outcomes and experiences will be like for us. Those past experiences and memories will always be part of who we are in the moment, but we have the God-gifted grace of free will to choose in every moment how we will behave, what we will say, and how we will act and react in any given situation. So sometimes it can be instructive to take inventory of the past, simply so that we can see what problematic tendencies we may have had in the past (as well as what gifts we have discovered in ourselves and each other); and then we can discern how we perceive God’s call and lure empowering us to engage the present moment as we step into an open future.

1 Thessalonians 2:9-13

Reading the correspondence of ancient Christians in the New Testament can be rather frustrating, because we only have one side of the conversation before us to consider! Though many of us have forgotten — or, if we didn’t grow up before email, we have never really ever known— what it is like to write a letter, wait for the reply (which may or may not touch on all the topics raised in our initial letter), and then to write another letter answering the answer, wait for its reply, repeating the process off and on over several months or years. To pick up one letter out of a long series of letters and to utilize it for ongoing instruction is rather like walking into a long movie about a third of the way through it, watching 15 minutes of it, and then walking out of it thinking that the 15 minutes we experienced is the same as what the whole movie is like.

Why it is that Paul points out that he and his companions worked so hard in this Church isn’t clear.; what he meant by not wanting to be a burden isn’t clear either. But what is clear is that Paul is trying to hold up his role-modeling in the light of love, in much the same way a parent loves a child. He affectionately refers to the readers (hearers?) as children. Paul remains authentic (not authoritarian) by reminding the Thessalonians of his love for them, as well as God’s love for them. He also refers to the teaching that was given them in terms of urging, encouraging, and pleading. Paul’s “mission team” to the Thessalonians was modeling what we process-relational preachers believe to be true about God — that God’s interactions with us are always persuasive and never coercive. God’s lure urges, encourages, and pleads with us; God doesn’t coerce, bribe, or trick us into doing anything.

Paul then goes on to affirm that what he and his “mission team” had done for the Thessalonians was to open their hearts to discerning their own authentic relationship with God. He proclaims that God’s word is at work within the Thessalonians. In some ways this could have been a way for Paul to give praise and credit to himself and the others who taught with him (“Golly, what a good job we did on you Thessalonians!”); but that’s not what he does. Instead, he gave thanks that the Thessalonians were able to take the message they received, make it their own, and then run with it in their own unique ways. Paul is affirming a process-relational approach to teaching and learning: empowering others to discern God’s leading in their own lives, and the use of the gifts that God has given them to work together with God to continue the ongoing work of creatively transforming the world.

Matthew 23:1-12

Tackling this piece of Jesus’ teaching needs to be done so cautiously. If we as preachers aren’t careful with texts like this one, it could become easy to paint Jesus as being “anti-Jewish” because of his criticism of the scribes and Pharisees. What we need to hold before our congregations is the truth of the matter that Jesus was himself a faithful Jew, and that he adhered to Jewish practices and principles. Did he question the direction that some of his religion’s leaders were trying to take things? Most certainly! But he was offering his critique from inside the faithful tradition of his religion, and not from outside of it. In the spirit of interfaith dialogue, one way of plumbing the depths of this text would be to “translate” it into a Christian context for use in Christian worship (turning it into an “intrafaith” commentary similar to how Jesus framed his critique): Do what your pastors teach you, but don’t behave like them… They do their deeds to be seen by others; they wear big crosses and collars and fancy stoles. They love to sit up in the front of the Church, and to be greeted with certain kinds of favors in public and to have people call them Pastor… It could even make a similar point by not making it about clergy, but about anyone who has “Christian” bumper stickers on their cars, or who wears crosses and the Christian fish symbol as an accessory, or any other kind of public display of religion. The point which Jesus was making, which can be applied to nearly all faith traditions, is that religious leaders (both ordained and lay) need to have their actions and their words preach the same message.

Another way of engaging this text is to affirm Jesus as being quite a good process-relational theologian. The relational aspects of this text drive home one of the principles of process-relational thinking; that whatever we do, for good or ill, has an impact on others, for good or ill. It behooves us to always be aware of our actions, and how they align with our inner (and spoken) principles and values, while at the same time being aware of how we can be more intentional in keeping our actions and our words on the same page. The idea that the teaching of the scribes and Pharisees being burdensome to others (and that they wouldn’t help to bear those burdens) speaks to the relational aspect of knowing the consequences for our behaviors — not so much the consequences we may suffer because of our own actions (as important as that may be), but to consider the way our own actions impact others’ lives and their sense of wellbeing. Self-exaltation, or self-aggrandizement, is its own reward to one’s own self; whereas the reward for intentional humility is an ever-growing relationship of mutual benefit between all people.

The Rev. David Grant Smith is a priest in the Episcopal Church, and is currently doing a residency in Clinical Pastoral Education at Christiana Care Health System in Newark, Delaware, where he is the Chaplain Resident for Pain & Palliative Care. Up until July of 2014 he had been the Rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Penn Yan, NY, in the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester, where he is still canonically resident as a priest. Prior to his ordination to the priesthood in 2008, David had a career as a lay professional in church music. In addition to his interests in weaving process theology in and through preaching, liturgy, teaching, and pastoral care, David enjoys travel, writing, and spending time with family & friends.