5th Sunday after Pentecost
June 28, 2015
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27; Psalm 130; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15;
Mark 5:21-43
The version of the Bible that I use the most often for
sermon planning and writing these days is a one that just came out a couple years
ago, called the Contemporary English Bible.
Like any translation, it has its issues, yet I have also found it to
have certain insights that appeal to my understanding of what the bible text is
saying. For example, the first line of
our Epistle lesson this morning starts off “Be the best,” and that caught my
eye. I went back and compared it to
other translations, the NRSV that I love to use and the Good News translation
that Cowenton has in its pews, and discovered two things about this verse. One is that this encouragement to “be the
best” motivates me more than the other translations that say, “We want you to
excel” and “We want you to be generous.”[1] Encouraging me to “be the best” draws out a
different response from me than someone saying “we want you to excel.” The other major difference was the order of
the pieces of this verse. In the CEB,
this appeal to “be the best” comes first, and then is followed by a compliment,
that you are already the best in faith, speech, knowledge, commitment, and
love. In the other translations I looked
at, that compliment comes first, and
then is followed by the request. And I
thought, I think I like that order better, compliment me first, flatter me
first, and then tell me what you want me to do.
Except the way that the CEB puts it, it makes “be the best” stick out
more. “Be the best in this work of grace
in the same way that you are the best in everything.” It makes the encouragement stand out more
than the compliment. And so even though
I want to focus on the compliment more, (who doesn’t like to hear nice things
about themselves?) what I need to hear more is being told to “be the best,” and
the part that comes first is the part that catches your attention more. So, be the best. At what?
In this work of grace, in this service of love, in this generous
undertaking, depending on which translation you read. This morning we’ll pull out an example from
each of other readings.
In our Gospel lesson we have the woman who anonymously
touched Jesus’ cloak and is told by Jesus, “Daughter, your faith has healed
you.”[2] I think we could say that this woman’s story
is an excellent example of how to be the
best in faith. This woman had been
sick for many years, had spent all she had on doctors and medicine without ever
getting any better, and because of the bleeding was considered unclean and
therefore she was an outcast on the margins for all these years. Then she saw Jesus walking by, and she had
heard about him and the things he had done, and she thought, “If
I can just touch his clothes, I’ll be healed.”[3] She believed Jesus did what
she had heard about him, she believed he had healed other people, and she
believed that he could heal her. And so,
stepping out in faith, she reached out and touched his cloak, having no reason
to do so other than what amounted to rumors and hearsay, and she was made
well. This wasn’t the reasoning of
“well, what have I got to lose, I may as well try;” no, this was faith, “I
believe if I can simply touch him, I will be made better.” This is believing what she has no reason to
believe, no proof to believe. It doesn’t
say she’d met personally the other people Jesus had healed earlier in the
Gospel of Mark. It doesn’t say she’d
witnessed those healings. It says she’d
heard about them, and hearing about what Jesus had done was enough for her to
believe. It was enough for her to have
faith. She reached out in faith, and
Jesus rewarded her faith. “Daughter,
your faith has made you well.” Jesus
didn’t just heal her body, he brings her back into the fold with that name:
daughter. He gives her a name and a
place among the people again. She
reached out in faith, and Jesus answered.
She was the best she could be in faith, and Jesus did not let her down.
Our psalm this morning is one of hope. It is a song of lament that begins in the pit
of despair, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!”[4]
but it doesn’t stay there. It doesn’t
stay in the pain. Instead, it makes the
move toward hope. It starts with where I
am, crying out for God to hear me, and then says “I will wait for the Lord, my
soul waits,” and you get the impression that I will wait for as long as it
takes. Talk about how to be the best at hope. The psalmist says, “my soul waits for the
Lord, more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for
the morning.”[5] You see, this isn’t a hope that is passive,
or just in the back of your mind, the kind that says, “yeah, some day, I hope
so.” This is an active hope, one that
waits more attentively than a night watchman.
And you know a good night watchman doesn’t fall asleep on the job but
makes the rounds and watches the sky for the first hint of dawn and for morning
to come and his shift to be over. This
hope is one that’s even more active than that, a hyper-vigilant night
watchman. Watching, waiting, checking
the clock, watching the sky, making the rounds, exploring every noise and every
crevice, watching, waiting, and ready for God to act. Ready for morning to come. Ready for God to show his steadfast love and
redeem us. Not sitting back waiting for
life to happen and pass by, not reactive;
this is active, proactive, doing
everything that can be done, trusting in God’s promises, having faith in them,
and so being the best at hope.
After faith and hope, you may have guessed what comes
next if you remember how Paul ends the 1 Corinthians 13, the chapter about love. He writes, “Now these three
remain: faith, hope, and love; and the greatest of these is love.” The greatest of these being love leads us to
probably our most difficult text this morning, our Old Testament lesson from 2
Samuel. The last we heard of this story
of the early kings of Israel was when Saul proved to be a bad king and so God
sent Samuel to anoint David king.
However, David didn’t become king right away, it’s more like he was on
deck to be up at bat next. First David
served in Saul’s court, playing a musical instrument for Saul that would help
him relax. Then there was the story of
David and Goliath, with which many of us are probably familiar. Later, David becomes good friends with Saul’s
son, Jonathan, and then, finally, Saul learns that the people prefer David to
him, and that God is no longer with him, and instead with David. Saul becomes insanely jealous and tries to
kill David multiple times. David, in
turn, spares Saul’s life each time he is in the position to do so. And at the same time all this is going on, Saul
is also still fighting the Philistines, the army that Goliath belonged to, and
Saul’s sons are all killed in battle. Rather
than be captured and tortured, Saul kills himself. When David learns of their deaths, he sings
this funeral song that is our Old Testament lesson for this morning. “On the hills of Israel our leaders are dead! Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” Didn’t know that was in the Bible, did
ya? How the mighty have fallen. The king is dead. The heirs apparent, the king’s sons are also
dead. And David sings this song in
mourning for them. “Jonathan’s bow never
wavered… Never did Saul’s sword return empty.
Saul and Jonathan! So well loved, so dearly cherished! In their lives
and in their deaths they were never separated. They were faster than eagles, stronger
than lions! Daughters of Israel, weep over Saul!”[6] What a song of love, for
Jonathan, a dear friend, and for Saul, a sworn enemy. David wins the award for being the best at love.
After all, Jesus says to “Love your enemies and pray for those who
persecute you,”[7] and that’s exactly what David does.
David doesn’t rejoice at the fall of his enemies, he doesn’t say, “oh
good, I don’t have to hide out from Saul any longer.” No, when Saul died, David led the nation in
honoring the fallen leader. It’s a
beautiful example of being the best at love.
As Paul writes to “Be the best in this work of grace,”
whether this work of grace involves faith, hope, or love, or something else
like mercy or forgiveness or commitment, be the best at it. It may be something grand with public
recognition, like a funeral song. It may
be something where you get singled out in a crowd and have to admit what you
did in faith. It may be something
ordinary like being a member of a church committee. Whatever it is that you have been given to
do, be the best at it. That’s what God
calls us to do. Not just go about your
business half-heartedly or not really paying attention to it or not caring
about it, but to put your all into whatever it is you’ve been given to do. Be the best.
The work you do matters. Your
relationships matter. The work you do
for the church matters. Your
relationship with Jesus matters. “Be the
best in this work of grace, in the same way that you are the best in
everything.”[8]
One of the prayers to conclude a service in the Book of Common Prayer
ends with this sentence, “And now, Father, send us out to do the work you have
given us to do, to love and serve you as faithfulness witnesses of Christ our
Lord.”[9]
Go out, and be the best at loving and serving. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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