Tag Archives: economy

Preaching on Creation: Fourth Sunday of Easter (April 25) in Year B (Ormseth18)

All Creation Is Raised Up Dennis OrmsethĀ reflects on the Great Economy of the Good Shepherd.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year B (2018, 2021, 2024)Ā 

Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18

A none-too-wise seminarian once remarked that he didn’t think he would use the metaphor of the shepherd in his work with confirmands, in as much as in his experience few of them knew what a shepherd did, and if they happened to know, they wouldn’t appreciate being compared to sheep who needed herding. Sheep were for them just very stupid animals. Granted the importance of taking context into consideration in preaching, the metaphor is probably still too valuable as comfort at the hospital bedside or the funeral home to abandon it, at least for older people and those who do have rural roots. Which is a good thing for preaching care of creation, actually, because the metaphor in fact has special value, as a means of linking not only such youth and their urban families, but us all, to the earth. The metaphor is intimately connected to images of nature, of a predominantly positive and attractive character. In the 23rd Psalm, for instance the pastures are green, the waters are still, the paths are right. A table is prepared, oil soothes skin parched by the sun, and wine flows liberally. These pastoral images, Arthur Walker-Jones suggests, have shaped reflection in western culture on humanity’s relationship with nature: ā€œThe pastoral landscape mediates between wilderness and civilization in art and literature. Moreover, this is an image of God who is present and involved, getting hands dirty in the work of creation.ā€ Accordingly, he urges, the metaphor

“. . . could help overcome the separation between humanity and nature by focusing on the identification of humans and nature. Nations, like plants, rely on the providential presence of God in creation in order to flourish. Like plants, people and nations are dependent on water, fertile soils, and other natural resources. Human societies are interdependent and interrelated with all of Earth community. The metaphor can speak to God’s involvement in nature and history (The Green Psalter: Resources for an Ecological Spirituality. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2009, p. 63).”

Walker-Jones’ point is well-taken, of course, but the condition he seeks to remedy needs to be considered more fully to take full advantage of the metaphor. Indeed, that very separation between humanity and nature is the more important issue raised by the readings this Sunday in the season of Easter.

The difference between the good shepherd and the hired hand, as John has it, is that the latter ā€œdoes not own the sheepā€, and ā€œdoes not care for the sheep.ā€ Those two assertions draw our discussion into the realm of economics. The relationship of the hired hand to the sheep is a matter of self-interested self-preservation: when it serves his interests, he is happy to receive his wage for tending them; when on the contrary, it goes against his interests, as when the wolf threatens, he runs. And so the metaphor discloses the lamentable condition that is close to the heart of the environmental crisis of our world. The sheep, as we commonly encounter them, are part of our human economy. As ā€œhired handsā€ we know them as such, and perhaps only as such. The reality is that the way the hired hand relates to the sheep is pretty much the way we in our society relate to nature in its entirety. We don’t really know it, and we don’t take time and effort to get to know it, except in so far as we have special interest and occasion to do so as part of our quest for our own economic well-being. Consequently, in terms of a Senegalese environmentalist’s maxim, nature won’t really be for us something that we genuinely love: ā€œWe won’t save places we don’t love; we can’t love places we don’t know; we don’t know places we haven’t learnedā€ (Baba Dioum, quoted from ā€œToolkit: Our Watershed Moment,ā€ available for free download from Minneapolis Area Synod EcoFaith Network). We are, in this perspective, far and away the ā€œhired handsā€ whose main interest in the sheep is a good supply of lamb chops to eat or wool to keep us warm, when we force them to render up their lives for us.

There is another economy at play in this narrative, however, one with significantly different principles. Like the human economy, this one, which Wendel Berry in his masterful essay ā€œTwo Economiesā€ calls the ā€œGreat Economy,ā€ which ā€œincludes principles and patterns by which values or powers or necessities are parceled out and exchanged.ā€ But these principles and patterns differ markedly: including all things, everything in the Great Economy is ā€œboth joined to it and everything else that is in it.ā€ Its scope, in other words, is universal: ā€œ[B]oth known and unknown, visible and invisible, comprehensible and mysterious. It is, thus, the ultimate condition of our experience and of the practical questions rising from our experience, and it imposes on our consideration of those questions an extremity of seriousness and an extremity of humilityā€ (Wendell Berry, Home Economics, North Point Press: Berkeley, California, 1987, pp. 56-57). Because it includes everything, Berry observes, this Great Economy actually can’t be fully known by humans, which means that ā€œhumans can live in the Great Economy only with great uneasiness, subject to powers and laws that they can understand only in partā€ (Berry, p. 57). By necessity, they cannot choose not to live in it, although they ā€œmay choose to act as if they do not.ā€ If humans do ā€œchoose to live in the Great Economy on its terms, then they must live in harmony with it, maintaining it in trust and learning to consider the lives of the wild creaturesā€ which it also includes (Berry, p. 58). This inclusivity is temporal as well as spatial; ā€œwe cannot foresee an end to it: The same basic stuff is going to be sifting from one form to another, so far as we know, foreverā€ (p. 59).

Both of these two economies concern values, but the values are derived differently: we participate in the ā€œlittle human economyā€ by virtue of ā€œfactual knowledge, calculation, and manipulation; our participation in the Great Economy also requires those things, but requires as well humility, sympathy, forbearance, generosity, imaginationā€ (p.60-61). And while the human economy ā€œcan evaluate, distribute, use, and preserve things of value, it cannot make value,ā€ which originates only in the Great Economy. Indeed, ā€œwhen humans presume to originate value, they make value that is first abstract and then false, tyrannical, and destructive of real value.ā€ Recognizing that the values of the human economy are in this sense secondary, it must also be managed so as to ā€œmake continuously available those values that are primary or given, the secondary values having mainly to do with husbandry and trusteeship. A little economy is obliged to receive them gratefully and to use them in such a way as not to diminish themā€ (p. 61-62). Indeed, in a passage that leads to an observation crucial for restorative action, Berry remarks that,

“. . . a little economy may be said to be good insofar as it perceives the excellence of these benefits and husbands and preserves them. It is by holding up this standard of goodness that we can best see what is wrong with the industrial economy. For the industrial economy does not see itself as a little economy; it sees itself as the only economy. It makes itself thus exclusive by the simple expedient of valuing only what it can use—that is, only what it can regard as ‘raw material’ to be transformed mechanically into something else. What it cannot use, it characteristically describes as ‘useless,’ ‘worthless,’ ‘random,’ or ‘wild,’ and gives it some such name as ‘chaos,’ ‘disorder,’ or ‘waste’—and thus ruins it or cheapens it in preparation for eventual use (Berry, pp. 64-65).”

Like the hired hand of the metaphor, we abandon such goods to the wolves that shadow our industry and commerce.

The remedy of this absence of care comes when we acknowledge the existence of the Great Economy, and we are astonished and frightened to see how completely the industrial economy is based on invasion and pillage of the Great Economy. The ā€œinvariable modeā€ of the industrial economy’s relation ā€œboth to nature and to human culture, we see, is that of mining: withdrawal from a limited fund until that fund is exhausted.ā€ In relationship to land, for instance, the industrial economy ā€œremoves natural fertility and human workmanship,ā€ reducing the land ā€œto abstract marketable quantities of length and width.ā€ We would like to make our control of ā€œthe forces of natureā€ complete, without any limits on human capacity to employ them. We assume that such control and such freedom are our ā€œrights,ā€ which seems to ensure that our means of control (of nature and of all else that we see as alien) will be violent . . . . Nuclear holocaust, if it comes, will be the final detonation of an explosive economy (Berry, pp. 68-69).

Seeing the human economy ā€œas the only economy,ā€ we regard its errors as political failures, and we continue to talk only about ā€œrecovery.ā€ When we think of the little human economy in relation to the Great Economy, on the other hand, we ā€œbegin to understand our errors for what they are and to see the qualitative meanings of our quantitative measures,ā€ and the ā€œindustrial wastes and losses not as ‘trade-offs’ or ‘necessary risks’ but as costs that, like all costs, are chargeable to somebody, sometimeā€ (Berry, p. 71). This changes everything in our reading of the economy:

We see that we cannot afford maximum profit or power with minimum responsibility because, in the Great Economy, the loser’s losses finally afflict the winner. Now the ideal must be the maximum of well-being with the minimum of consumption, which both defines and requires neighborly love. Competitiveness cannot be the ruling principle, for the Great Economy is not a ā€œsideā€ that we can join nor are there such ā€œsidesā€ within it. Thus, it is not the ā€œsum of its partsā€ but a membership of parts inextricably joined to each other, indebted to each other, receiving significance and worth from each other and from the wholeā€ (Berry, pp. 72-73).

In the ā€œmembership of the Great Economy everything signifies; whatever we do counts. If we do not serve what coheres and endures, we serve what disintegrates and destroys. We can presume that we are outside the membership that includes us, but that presumption only damages the membership—and ourselves, of course, along with itā€ (Berry, pp.74-75).

The Good Shepherd, it can now be recognized, is truly and fully at home in the Great Economy. For Jesus’ statement, ā€œI am the Good Shepherd,ā€ Raymond Brown argues, John offers two explanations: Jesus is the model, or noble shepherd, first, ā€œbecause he is willing to die to protect his sheepā€ (John 10:11-13); and secondly, ā€œbecause he knows his sheep intimatelyā€ (10:14-16). Both of these assertions, Brown shows, are grounded in Hebrew Scriptures: the latter is drawn from the image of God the shepherd in Ezekiel 34 and Isaiah 40:11; and his willingness to die from the Suffering Servant of Isaiah. The reading of Psalm 23 underscores this insight. As Walter Brueggemann points out, Psalm 23 is ā€œa full statement of a recurrent metaphor for Yahweh.ā€ As shepherd, Yahweh ā€œis the subject of a series of life-giving verbs: lead, restore, be with, prepare, anoint. Yahweh does everything that must be done so that the trusting sheep may live; Yahweh provided what they cannot secure for themselves.ā€ The metaphor of the shepherd, Brueggemann emphasizes, thus ā€œholds potential for a rich variety of reflections and affirmations concerning Israel’s proper relation to Yahweh, Yahweh’s inclination toward Israel, and the right ordering of the communal life of Israel (Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress, 1997, pp, 260-61).

The ā€œgoodā€ or model shepherd thus combines in his person the care and love that Yahweh as shepherd has for his people with the ā€œpower to lay [his life] down of [his] own accord and the power to take it up againā€ which he has from ā€œhis Father.ā€ In both aspects, Brown urges, as the Good Shepherd, Jesus is fully in accord with the character and will of Yahweh; as Jesus claims, ā€œI have received this command from my Fatherā€ (10:18-19) (Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel of John I—XII, New York: Doubleday, 1966, p. 395-96). That Jesus is ā€œthe Good Shepherdā€ thus makes not only a social claim concerning his relationship with his followers, but also a theological claim about his relationship to Yahweh. In being the model shepherd, Jesus is fully identified with Yahweh, the true shepherd of Israel. In laying down his life for the purpose of taking it up again in the resurrection, he fully fulfills God’s command.

The Great Economy clearly participates in the divine economy of the Trinity, grounded in God’s active love for God’s people. We’ve already heard about this economy this Easter Season, as we took note of it in our comment on the readings for the Second and Third Sundays. It is the economy of ā€œthe self-giving life of the trinitarian community of God,ā€ in the words of M. Douglas Meeks, which was manifest in the sharing of goods in the early Christian community (Acts 4:32-34). It is the economy in which

. . . God has a claim on the creation and all creatures not as maker (labor theory of property) or owner (first occupancy), but rather as creator and liberator. At the heart of God’s act of liberating/creating is God’s suffering and self-giving. God’s work of suffering is the source of God’s claim in, that is, God’s property in creation. God brings the world into being through God’s costly struggle against the power of the nihil. God has suffered for the creation and will not allow it to fall into vanity or be alienated. The creation is properly God’s because God’s power of righteousness makes its life fundamentally a gift of God’s grace.

God’s owning, Meeks concludes, ā€œis not grounded in self-possession but rather in self-giving. The mode of God’s possessing is giving, not the hoarding by which human beings claim dominionā€ (M. Douglas Meeks, God the Economist: The Doctrine of God and Political Economy, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989, P. 113-14). It is the economy of love reflected in the great summation of the gospel in the second lesson, ā€œwe know love by this, that Jesus lays down his life—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?ā€ (1 John 3:16-17).

It also relates to the economy of the Triune God as described both by Mark Wallace in his Fragments of the Spirit and by Elizabeth Johnson in her Ask the Beasts, which we discussed in our comment on the readings for the Third Sunday of Easter. As Wallace observed, ā€œInsofar as the Spirit abides in and with all living things, Spirit and earth are inseparable and yet at the same time distinguishable . . . . The Spirit inhabits the earth as its invisible and life-giving breath (ruah), and the earth (gaia) is the outward manifestation of the Spirit’s presence within, and maintenance of, all life formsā€ (Mark I. Wallace, Fragments of the Spirit: Nature, Violence, and the Renewal of Creation. Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press International, 2002, p. 136). It is filled by this Spirit that Peter addressed those authorities of the temple who objected to ā€œa good deed done to someone who was sickā€ (Acts 4:8-9). And as Johnson argued, in the risen Christ, by an act of infinite mercy and fidelity, ā€œthe eternal God has assumed the corporeality of the world into the heart of divine life—not just for time but for eternity.ā€ This marks the beginning of the redemption of the whole physical cosmos. With this realization, Ambrose of Milan could preach, ā€œIn Christ’s resurrection the earth itself aroseā€ (Elizabeth A. Johnson, Ask the Beasts: Darwin and the God of Love, Bloomsbury: London, 2014, p.208).

Here in the Easter Season we in fact might well identify the Great Economy with the Economy of the Resurrection in which all creation is raised up. In this Economy, the separation of humanity from nature is overcome, and if we trust our metaphorical imagination, we can learn to see in moments of revelatory import signs of death and resurrection that are built into the creation. Berry’s favorite example is topsoil: We cannot speak of topsoil, he writes,

“. . . indeed we cannot know what it is, without acknowledging at the outset that we cannot make it . . . For, although any soil sample can be reduced to its inert quantities, a handful of the real thing has life in it; it is full of living creatures. And if we try to describe the behavior of that life we will see that it is doing something that, if we are not careful, we will call ‘unearthly’: It is making life out of death . . . . A healthy soil is made by the life dying into it and by the life living in it, and to its double ability to drain and retain water we are complexly indebted, for it not only gives us good crops but also erosion control as well as both flood control and a constant water supply.ā€

Yes, the death and resurrection of Jesus wonderfully involves all creation. And no less wonderfully, there is also the mystery of the sheep who are so much at home in the creation that they virtually disappear into it: a small flock of ewes, Berry has observed,

“. . . fitted properly into a farm’s pattern, virtually disappears into the farm and does it good, just as it virtually disappears into the time and energy economy of a farm family and does it good. And, properly fitted into the farm’s pattern, the small flock virtually disappears from the debit side of the farm’s accounts but shows up plainly on the credit side. This ‘disappearance’ is possible, not to the extent that the farm is a human artifact, a belonging of the human economy, but to the extent that it remains, by its obedience to natural principle, a belonging of the Great Economy” (Berry, p. 64).

Not bad for ā€œstupid animals.ā€ We humans should do so well.

Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2018.
dennisormseth@gmail.com

Second Sunday of Easter in Year B (Ormseth15)

The Self-Giving of the Community is Rooted in the Self-Giving of the Creator. Dennis OrmsethĀ reflects on what it means to “own” property.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for the Second Sunday of Easter, Year B (2015, 2018, 2021, 2024)Ā 

Acts 4:32-35
Psalm 133
1 John 1:1 – 2:2
John 20:19-31

Psalm 133 ā€œspeaks of brothers dwelling together in unity,ā€ Ben Witherington III notes. And he likens the condition to the pleasure of a priestly anointment of oil upon the head and beard of Aaron, and to dew falling upon the ā€œmountains of Zionā€ –-ā€œa major blessing—like the dew that refreshes the plants in and around Jerusalem even in some of the dry timesā€ (ā€œThe Season of Easter,ā€ New Proclamation Year B, 2003: Easter Through Pentecost, p. 17-18). In reading this psalm on the Second Sunday of Easter, the Christian community thus lays claim for its gathering around our resurrected Lord to a sense of well-being associated in the Hebrew psalmist tradition with the temple in Jerusalem. That this is consistent with the view we have been developing in these comments, namely that in the narrative of Jesus’ passion and resurrection, particularly as presented in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus displaces the temple as the center of life in God’s presence, with significant consequences for the Christian orientation towards creation. This Sunday, other Scriptures from John and Luke’s Acts of the Apostles provide vignettes of life in the post-resurrection community which illumine the nature of this orientation and some of its implications.

In the Gospel reading for this Sunday, ā€œdwelling together in unityā€ is envisioned as a gathering in the presence of the resurrected Jesus. In the first section of the Gospel, Jesus appears to the disciples, addresses the fear that keeps them behind locked doors with his word of peace, and then commissions them by the power of the Holy Spirit for the mission of forgiveness of sins. In the second section of the reading, Jesus’ appearance a week later to Thomas serves to reaffirm that the bodily reality of the resurrected Jesus exists in continuity with the body that was crucified. The community of the resurrected Lord, reconciled by the power of the Holy Spirit and empowered similarly to reconcile others, will be gathered in the presence of this crucified body and no other.

An important consequence of this gathering in the presence of the crucified and resurrected Jesus for the community’s orientation to creation is exhibited in the lesson from Acts 4:32-35. This reading provides for contemporary Christians living in such strongly capitalistic societies as ours a strongly counter-cultural illustration of the expectations early Christians had for their communities: they ā€œwere of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.ā€ Their unity of spirit, in other words, was embodied in the economic practices that secured their well-being, in spite of their minority status within the larger society. Helpfully for preachers who have strongly anti-socialist members (or not, given the suspicion directed towards all mildly ā€œsocialistā€ alternatives these days), Witherington takes care to point out that this was not a ā€œcommunism,ā€ in which everybody turns in ā€œall their assets to the church and then those assets being doled out equally to everyone.ā€ The point was rather that,

“No one claimed owner’s rights. No one exhibited selfishness or possessiveness. The issue was to make sure no believer fell into a state of malnourishment or homelessness or sickness. . . Notice the sharing was done without thought of return. The ancient reciprocity conventions were no part of this practiceā€ (Witherington, pp. 16-17).

It is important to note that while participants in this community did not absent themselves from worship in the temple (Acts 2:46), they nevertheless now found the center of their life in ā€œthe testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesusā€ (4:33) and an associated awareness of ā€œGod’s grace,ā€ which was fostered by the meal they shared when ā€œthey broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the peopleā€ (2:46). Their new life in Christ, home bound as it was, maintained in some measure the sense of living in God’s presence previously experienced in the temple.

Readers of our comment on the readings for Passion Sunday will recall our comments there connecting the meal instituted by Jesus on the night of his betrayal with the fundamental experience of the ā€œrestoration of human solidarity in membership with both other people and with the non-human creation that continually gives and sustains life.ā€ Participation in the meal, we suggested, provides a ā€œre-orientation to creationā€ in ā€œthat with his sacrifice he restores to those he feeds the sense of their bodies as created gifts from God.ā€ Quoting Norman Wirzba: ā€œJesus’ life and death are finally about the transformation of all life and the reparation of creation’s many memberships. Where life is broken, degraded, or hungry, Jesus repairs life, showing it to us as reconciled, protected, and fed.ā€ In the reading from Acts, we see that these expectations have become in some sense normative for the post-resurrection community.

Of particular importance with respect to the orientation of the community to creation is the distinctive attitude toward ownership of property, as we noted above. M. Douglas Meeks provides the following summary of its meaning in his book God the Economist:

“The secret of property in the basileia economy has to do with the relationship of those within the household. Household relationships come first, then the definition of property. In our society property is defined as the premise; then household relations must conform to requirements of property abstractly defined. Human relationships are subservient to property. The communal relationship with the Jesus movement and the primitive community of Acts 4 lead to different forms of property. . . . For the household of God the tendency of property to create domination is to be overcome in oikic relationships of mutual self-giving, in which possessions are used for the realization of God’s will in the community” (Meeks, p. 113).

Key to this understanding, Meeks argues, is ā€œthe self-giving life of the trinitarian community of God,ā€ which provides a grounding in the theology of creation for a critique of the self as private property, which is reflected in our approach to ownership of property.

God has a claim on the creation and all creatures not as maker (labor theory of property) or owner (first occupancy), but rather as creator and liberator. At the heart of God’s act of liberating/creating is God’s suffering and self-giving. God’s work of suffering is the source of God’s claim in, that is, God’s property in creation. God brings the world into being through God’s costly struggle against the power of the nihil. God has suffered for the creation and will not allow it to fall into vanity or be alienated. The creation is properly God’s because God’s power of righteousness makes its life fundamentally a gift of God’s grace.

God’s owning, Meeks, concludes, ā€œis not grounded in self-possession but rather in self-giving. The mode of God’s possessing is giving, not the hoarding by which human beings claim dominionā€ (Meeks, p. 114).

It is striking to note that a scriptural basis for the trinitarian foundation of this understanding of property and its relationship to the doctrine of creation is given in the texts assigned for this Sunday, focused as they are ā€œon dwelling together in unity.ā€ The Gospel reading, we noted, concerns the gift of the Spirit to the disciple. And in the second lesson of 1 John 1, we encounter the notion that Christian community is fellowship ā€œwith the Father and his Son Jesus Christ,ā€ who is the ā€œatoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole worldā€ (1:3, 2:2). Congregations who confess their Trinitarian faith in worship this Sunday might easily move to lay hold of the many opportunities for showing their deep gratitude for God’s suffering love in the practices of their community’s ā€œownershipā€ of property.

Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2015.
dennisormseth@gmail.com

Second Sunday of Easter in Year B (Ormseth18)

ā€œHow very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!ā€ Dennis OrmsethĀ reflects on community, trinity, and unity.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for the Second Sunday of Easter, Year B (2018, 2021, 2024)Ā 

Acts 4:32-35
Psalm 133
1 John 1:1 – 2:2
John 20:19-31

We continue our exploration of ā€œfirst thingsā€ or basic principles of our practice of Christian faith occasioned by the observance of Easter and their relationship to practices of care for creation. In the comment for Resurrection of Our Lord, we saw that the Resurrection of Jesus reveals the eschatological presence of God in the community of Jesus’ disciples, as that community brings to the world the message of the God’s victory over the death. Jesus’ resurrection is, in the words of John Dominic and Sarah Sexton Crossan, a ā€œliberation of past, present, and future humanity from death in, by, and simultaneously with Christ,ā€ in which all creation is eventually to be drawn by God away from destruction and toward salvation ā€œon a transformed earth and within a transfigured world.ā€ Distinguishing marks of this presence are the non-violent character of relationships in the community, in conformity with the nonviolent practice of their crucified Lord, and the fellowship meal in which those relationships are celebrated.

The readings for the Second Sunday of Easter encourage us to amplify the significance of those marks, again with special significance for care of creation. The non-violent character of the community is secured in these texts, as in the Easter narrative of Mark, by the affirmation of continuity between the crucified Jesus and the resurrected Lord. While Mark provides for that continuity by having the disciples sent back to Galilee, in John’s narrative, composed significantly later and more fully developed theologically, Jesus himself appears to the disciples, first without Thomas and then with Thomas; when they see the marks of the nails in his hands and the hole in his side, they know that this is the crucified Jesus. He then addresses the fear that keeps them behind locked doors with his word of peace, breaths upon them the Holy Spirit, and commissions them by the power of the Spirit for the mission of forgiveness of sins. The continuity of the resurrected Jesus with the crucified Jesus serves to restore the community they experienced prior to his crucifixion. But with the additional acts of breathing upon them and the blessing of peace, Jesus also anticipates a transition in the community from those disciples who see the crucified and resurrected Jesus and thus believe, to those who have faith only by virtue of the presence of God as the Spirit brings the community to life in an ongoing new creation.

The encounter is intended to be understood as an eschatological moment of new creation. This set of messianic practices constitutes the means for creating community with and amongst the disciples, not just in the moment of this encounter, but enduring into the future. Going forward, the breath, the blessing of peace, and the commission will sustain the formation of communities in which Jesus is worshipped, as in the praise of Thomas, ā€œMy Lord and my God.ā€ As Raymond Brown notes, in John 20:17, it was

ā€œ. . . promised that after Jesus’ ascension God would become a Father to the disciples who would be begotten by the Spirit, and also would in a special way become the God of a people bound to him by a new covenant. The words that Thomas speaks to Jesus are the voice of this people ratifying the covenant that the Father has made in Jesus. As Hosea 2: 25 (23) promised, a people that was formerly not a people has now said, ā€œyou are my God.ā€ This confession has been combined with the baptismal profession ā€œJesus is Lord,ā€ a profession that can be made only when the Spirit has been poured out (I Corinthians 12:3)ā€ (Raymond E. Brown,Ā The Gospel According to John (XIII-XXI),Ā New York:Ā Doubleday, 1970, p.1035).

Thus the members of the community of the crucified and resurrected Lord, reconciled by the power of the Holy Spirit and empowered to similarly reconcile others, are gathered in the presence of their Creator. Brown called particular attention to this creational emphasis, as he notes, ā€œfor John this is the high point of the post-resurrectional activity of Jesus.ā€ He comments:

ā€œBefore Jesus says, ‘Receive a holy Spirit,ā€ he breathes on his disciples. The Greek verbĀ emphysan, ā€œto breath,ā€ echoes LXX of Genesis 2:7, the creation scene, where we are told: The Lord God formed man out of the dust of the earth and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.ā€ The verb is used again in Wisdom 15:11, which rephrases the creation account: ā€œThe One who fashioned him and . . . breathed into him a living spirit.ā€ Symbolically, then, John is proclaiming that, just as in the first creation God breathed a living spirit into man, so now in the moment of the new creation Jesus breathes his own Holy Spirit into the disciples, giving them eternal lifeā€ (Brown, p. 1037).

That Yahweh the Creator is present to the community is made more explicit in the second half of the reading, in Jesus’ encounter with Thomas. As Thomas moves from disbelief to belief, he confesses his faith in Jesus as ā€œMy Lord and my God.ā€ This is, in Brown’s view,

ā€œ. . . the supreme christological pronouncement of the Fourth Gospel. In Chapter I the first disciples gave many titles to Jesus . . , and we have heard still others throughout the ministry: Rabbi, Messiah, Prophet, King of Israel, Son of God. In the post-resurrectional appearances Jesus has been hailed as the Lord by Magdalene and by the disciples as a group. But it is Thomas who makes clear that one may address Jesus in the same language in which Israel addressed Yahweh.ā€

This confession, Brown emphasizes, is not a dogmatic assertion, but rather an act of worship. ā€œIt is a response of praise to the God who has revealed Himself in Jesus . . . . Thomas speaks the doxology on behalf of the Christian communityā€ (Brown, pp. 1046-7).

Such praise, it is important to note, entails a characteristic reorientation to the creation of the Creator. As Brown notes, the peace and joy noted in John 20:20 are for John, as for Jewish thought generally, ā€œmarks of the eschatological period when God’s intervention would have brought about harmony in human life and in the world. John sees this period realized as Jesus returns to pour forth his Spirit upon menā€ (Brown, p. 1035). Appropriately, this vision is then also manifest in the first lesson for this Sunday, Acts 4:32-35: they ā€œwere of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in commonā€ (Acts 4:32). Their unity of spirit, in other words, was embodied in the economic practices that secured their well-being, in the face of their minority status within the larger society. Helpfully Ben Witherington takes care to point out that this was not a ā€œcommunism,ā€ in which everybody turns in ā€œall their assets to the church and then those assets being doled out equally to everyone.ā€ The point was rather that

ā€œ. . . no one claimed owner’s rights. No one exhibited selfishness or possessiveness. The issue was to make sure no believer fell into a state of malnourishment or homelessness or sickness . . . . Notice the sharing was done without thought of return. The ancient reciprocity conventions were no part of this practiceā€ (ā€œThe Season of Easter,ā€Ā New Proclamation Year B, 2003:Ā Ā Easter through Pentecost, pp. 17-18).

The community now found the center of their life in ā€œthe testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesusā€ (4:33) and an associated awareness of ā€œGod’s graceā€ which was fostered by the meal they shared, when ā€œthey broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the peopleā€ (2:46). Their new life in Christ maintained in strong measure the sense of living fully in God’s presence previously expected by the Hebrew community in its life centered in temple worship.

The distinctive attitude towards ownership of property envisioned here indeed represents a transformed relationship to creation. It represents a vision of the world as it should be. As M. Douglas Meeks describes it in his bookĀ God the Economist,Ā this new economy is grounded securely in creation faith, as contrasted with the modern economy of capitalist society:

ā€œThe secret of property in theĀ basileiaĀ economy has to do with the relationship of those within the household. Household relationships come first, then the definition of property. In our society property is defined as the premise; then household relations must conform to requirements of property abstractly defined. Human relationships are subservient to property. The communal relationship with the Jesus movement and the primitive community of Acts 4 leads to different forms of property . . . . For the household of God the tendency of property to create domination is to be overcome inĀ oikiaĀ relationships of mutual self-giving, in which possessions are used for the realization of God’s will in the communityā€ (M. Douglas Meeks,Ā God the Economist: The Doctrine of God and Political Economy, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989, P. 113).

Key to this understanding, Meeks argues, is ā€œthe self-giving life of the trinitarian community of God,ā€ which provides a grounding in the theology of creation for a critique of the self as private property that is reflected in our approach to ownership of property.

ā€œGod has a claim on the creation and all creatures not as maker (labor theory of property) or owner (first occupancy), but rather as creator and liberator. At the heart of God’s act of liberating/creating is God’s suffering and self-giving. God’s work of suffering is the source of God’s claim in, that is, God’s property in creation. God brings the world into being through God’s costly struggle against the power of theĀ nihil. God has suffered for the creation and will not allow it to fall into vanity or be alienated.Ā Ā The creation is properly God’s because God’s power of righteousness makes its life fundamentally a gift of God’s grace.ā€

God’s owning, Meeks concludes, ā€œis not grounded in self-possession but rather in self-giving.Ā Ā The mode of God’s possessing is giving, not the hoarding by which human beings claim dominionā€ (Meeks, p. 114).

In the wake of Jesus’ resurrection, the followers of Jesus have become like those Hebrews of whom the Psalmist sings, ā€œHow very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!ā€(Psalm 133:1). They do indeed ā€œdwell together in unity,ā€ the blessing of ā€œlife forevermoreā€ (Psalm 133:3b).Ā Ā It is striking that a scriptural basis for a trinitarian foundation for this understanding of property and its relationship to the doctrine of creation is given in the texts assigned for this Sunday. The gospel reading, we noted, concerns the gift of the Spirit to the disciples, in which the presence of Yahweh the creator is newly communicated. And in the second lesson from 1 John 1, we encounter the notion that Christian community is fellowship ā€œwith the Father and his Son Jesus Christ,ā€ who is the ā€œatoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole worldā€ (1 John 1:3, 2:2). Congregations who confess their trinitarian faith in worship this Sunday might accordingly move readily to lay hold of the many opportunities for showing their deep gratitude for God’s suffering love in the practices of their community’s ā€œownershipā€ of property. Care of creation begins at home, where the church dwells together in unity, not only amongst themselves, but in community both with God and with all God’s creation.

Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2018.
dennisormseth@gmail.com

First Sunday of Advent in Year B (Mundahl14)

Stay Alert with Hope; and Beware the Consumers of Christmas. Tom Mundahl reflects on hope, watching, and serving.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for the First Sunday of Advent, Year B (2014, 2017, 2020, 2023)

Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37

In a recent review of new books on climate change, BritishĀ Ā environmental writer Paul Kingsnorth shares his fear that stopping warming is nearly impossible; the very best that can be done is controlling how bad it will get. This pessimism is reinforced by a conversation Kingsnorth had with Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman in a New York cafe. Because Kahneman, an economist and a lifetime student of human decision-making, is convinced that no amount of psychological awareness will overcome people’s reluctance to lower their standard of living, he concludes:Ā Ā ā€œSo that’s my bottom line: there is not much hopeā€ (London Review of Books, October 23, 2014, p. 18).

Despite that increasing consensus, the community of faith insists on calling Advent a season of hope. But this is not a naive hope. As William and Annabeth Gay wrote their annual Christmas letter in 1969—in the midst of the worst of the Vietnam War –as always they included a hymn, whose middle verse puts it best:

Yet I believe beyond believing that life can spring from death,
that growth can flower from our grieving,
that we can catch our breath and be transfixed by faith.
So even as the sun is turning to journey to the north,
the living flame, in secret burning,
can kindle on the earth and bring God’s love to birth.
(ā€œEach Winter as the Year Grows Older,ā€ No. 252,Ā Evangelical Lutheran Worship, Minneapolis: Augsburg-Fortress, 2006)

This hope is especially critical for those of faith called to serve a creation rent by the Ebola virus, drought from another record year of heat, water shortages, and rising oceans –all challenges met by paltry human response. As we begin a new church year, we look for signs of hope where they always have been, in our Advent readings from scripture.

It may be surprising that our first reading from Isaiah addresses those who have returned from exile in Babylon and have resumed a corporate life together. Yet things have not gone so well; the very promises of a New Exodus seem to have been empty. No wonder the people ask, ā€œWhere is the one who brought them from the sea…?ā€ (Isaiah 63:11) and why does this LORDĀ Ā ā€œharden our hearts, so that we do not fear you?ā€ (Isaiah 63: 17) (see the discussion by Paul D. Hanson,Ā Isaiah 40-66, Louisville: John Knox, 1997, pp. 234-235).

Out of this sense of frustration and failure comes a desperate cry: ā€œO that you would tear open the heavens and come down….ā€ (Isaiah 64:1).Ā Ā While this image may call to mind the old tradition of the Divine Warrior, it goes even deeper to the Creator’s power to make new. Not only does this cry occasion a turning around –repentance—by the people, it roots what is to come in ā€œrememberingā€ God’s faithfulness. (Isaiah 63:11)

Even if the hopeful imagery of Second Isaiah (40-55) now seems to be fantasy, the prophet and people hold their broken dreams and defeated hopes together by remembering God’s action, the only power capable of healing what has been ā€˜dismembered.’ That memory does more than face backwards: it recalls that this is the God who clears the way for the new, capable of ā€œtearing open the heavens and coming down.ā€

In fact, now the prophet reminds listeners of the creative imagery from the earlier Isaiah.

Woe to you who strive with your Maker, earthen vessels with the potter!Ā Ā Does the clay say to the one who fashions it, ā€œWhat are you making?ā€ (Isaiah 45:7)

This earthy metaphor serves as a timely affirmation in spite of the freed peoples’ faithlessness: ā€œYet, O LORD, youĀ areĀ our Father: weĀ areĀ the clay and youĀ areĀ our potter; weĀ are all the work of your handā€ (Isaiah 64:8). It is this trust in the ā€˜maker of heaven and earth’ that is the source of hope in the midst of hopelessness. And this hope is justified, for the prophet goes on to share a ā€œdivine speechā€ in Isaiah 65 that offers a promise of radical newness and a vision ofĀ shalom. (see Ellen Davis,Ā Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible, Cambridge: 2009, p. 169)

For I am about to create a new heavens and a new earth….I will rejoice in Jerusalem and delight in my people….They shall build houses and inhabit them;Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit….for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be (Isaiah 65: 17, 19, 21-22).

Paul writes with just this sense of hopefulness to a Corinthian community faced with the challenge of cultural diversity and internal division. Even though our text comprises the formal thanksgiving in the letter, it is hardly formulaic. As Hans Conzelmann suggests, the very first word of this thanksgiving,Ā ĪµĻ…Ļ‡Ī±ĻĪ¹Ļ‚Ļ„Ļ‰ā€”ā€œI give thanksā€ā€”drives toward and includes everything in this section, culminating in the promise of strength to live out the community’s calling (Hans Conzelmann,Ā 1 Corinthians, Hermeneia Commentaries, Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975, p. 25).

Clearly, this community is not without resources as it continues to serve under pressure. Nor are these resources self-generated. The Corinthian community has been ā€œenrichedā€ by God’s gifts.Ā Ā Despite the NRSV translation, the Greek word ā€œspiritualā€ does not appear in 1:7. The grace of God simply provides what is required for life and service.

These gifts, χαριςματι, could not differ more from the great hunt for holiday gifts in the race beginning on so-called ā€œBlack Friday.ā€Ā Ā Brueggemann deftly characterizes this ā€œholiday shopping spreeā€ as the ā€œachieved satiationā€ of a ā€œroyal theologyā€ aimed at sedating ā€˜consumers’ into thinking that everything is ā€œall rightā€ and that there are no problems that cannot be ā€œfixedā€ by economic exchange (Walter Brueggemann,Ā The Prophetic Imagination, 2nd Ed., Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001, pp. 36-37).

The gifts Paul refers to are given to empower this new servant body to nurture the mystery of hope, to ā€˜get its hands dirty’ as part of a community so inclusive it ā€˜comprehends’ all creation.Ā Ā No other scaling of community, κοινωνια, is comprehensive enough to do justice to the faithfulness of God. (1 Corinthians 1: 9)

Richard Hays, in his comment on this text, puts it nicely:

“We are apt to think of the church’s life and mission on a small, even trivial scale. We tend to locate the identity of our communities within some denominational program, or within local politics, or within recent history. But Paul urges us instead to understand the church in a cosmic frame of reference…. “(First Corinthians, Louisville: John Knox, 1997, p.20).

Ironically, it is cosmic vision which frees us to see what is at hand locally with new eyes: every child, every one of Grandpa Ott’s ā€˜Morning Glories’ in the alley, every city council meeting, and even every diseased ash tree as holy, a gift of God.

Chapter 13 in Mark’s Gospel may provide us with more of the ā€œcosmicā€ than we bargained for.Ā Ā Description of ā€œwars and rumors of warsā€ (13:7), ā€œfleeing to the mountainsā€ (13:14), false messiahs, and astronomical irregularities combine to create an atmosphere of terror and anguish. Far from being otherworldly, this dramatic language seems to describe the life situation of the earliest community and its response to the Jewish Revolt of 66-70 CE.

If scholars Adele Yarbro Collins and Ched Myers are right, this chapter ā€œdocumentsā€ the struggle in the Markan community over what tack to take in this violent popular uprising.Ā Ā Collins suggests that ā€œwars and rumors of warsā€ and the warning that ā€œthe end is yet to comeā€ (13:7) fit best with the situation early in the Jewish War. ā€œIf the war were already over, it would hardly have been necessary to point out that the end had not yet comeā€ (Collins, The Beginning of the Gospel: Probings of Mark in Context, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992, p. 82).

Myers goes further, suggesting that this chapter is written for an audience in the resurrection community tempted to join forces with ā€˜Jewish patriots’ in rebel action. ā€œIn such a moment, there was only one voice that could match the persuasive call of the rebel recruiters: Jesus the living teacherā€ (Ched Myers,Ā Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Gospel, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1988, p. 330). This call is to say ā€œnoā€ to false messiahs, military violence, and predictions of the end of hostilities. It is a call to active watching and waiting, the call of the whole faith community during Advent.

ā€œBeware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will comeā€ (Mark 13:33). This strong imperative sentence could be heard as a threat that produces nervous foreboding. Instead, it is an invitation to faithful and attentive service within the web of creation. A community that no longer lives in anxiety about making the right eschatological ā€œcallā€ is freed for this very activity: watching and serving. The time of fulfillment will come; in the meantime, wakeful care is the watchword, as it indeed is for the season of Advent.

This attention and watchfulness is more than a strategy; it replaces the world of the temple cult with trust in the ā€œwordā€ of the Risen One. (Mark 13:31) The old fig tree (Mark 11:12 -14)—representing temple culture –no longer bears fruit. A new crop is coming to nourish this community of attentive care. This crop will provide the sustenance servants of creation need to carry out their calling (Mark 13:28-31). This is true for us as we are challenged by an economic culture that uses shopping and buying to sedate us so we cannot see the way things really are.

When Wendell Berry wrote, ā€œthe real names of global warming are Waste and Greedā€ (ā€œFaustian Economics,ā€ Harpers, May, 2008, p. 35), he could just as well be speaking of the North American celebration of ā€œthe holidays.ā€ Much as the earliest community was tempted to embrace military violence to easily solve the problem of Roman rule in Palestine, so we are tempted to forget any discipline of waiting and watching and, instead, to jump ā€œwhole hogā€ into the arena of ā€œgetting the goods.ā€ In this kind of culture there is no hope that ā€œconsumersā€ will cut themselves off acquiring the latest toy and risk social disapproval, little chance that steps to deal honestly with the causes of climate change will be taken. But when we ā€œkeep awakeā€ (Mark 13:37), who knows what new doors may open.

Originally written by Tom Mundahl in 2014.
St. Paul, MN
tmundahl@gmail.com

Sunday September 18-24 in Year A (Ormseth)

Acceptance in an Economy of Grace Dennis OrmsethĀ reflects on the parable of the workers in the vineyard.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for Sunday September 18-24, Year A (2011, 2014, 2017, 2020, 2023)

Jonah 3:10 – 4:11
Psalm 145:1-8
Philippians 1:21-30
Matthew 20:1-16

The readings for this Sunday after Pentecost invite our participation in God’s gracious care for all creation. In the words of the Psalmist, we ā€œcelebrate the fame of [God’s] abundant goodness, and shall sing aloud of [God’s] righteousness. The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast loveā€ (Ps 145:7-8). An additional verse makes it clear that this love is all-inclusive: ā€œThe Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has madeā€ (Ps 145:9). So we hear that out of concern for the ā€œhundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals,ā€ God relents of a threat to punish all Nineveh (Jonah 4:11). And we are encouraged by the Apostle Paul to engage in the ā€œfruitful laborā€ of a life lived ā€œin a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,ā€ the one whom we know as the Lord, the Servant of all creation. And the Gospel provides more specific encouragement for engaging in this care.

Interpretations of the parable of the ā€œlaborers in the vineyardā€ typically emphasize the landowner’s generosity and ā€œthe free gift of grace associated with the kingdom’s coming.ā€ The problem with this reading, suggests Bernard Brandon Scott, is that the supposed target of this teaching, the Pharisees, ā€œwould not have seen themselves as rejecting God’s generosity to sinners,ā€ nor is it suggested anywhere that ā€œthose who have worked in the vineyard all day have not earned their wages,ā€ which on close analysis turn out to be not generous, but only what an average a peasant could expect to earn (ā€the usual daily wage,ā€ NRSV) (Hear Then the Parable,Ā pp. 282-83).

What about these workers living on the margins?

The point of the parable lies elsewhere, Scott urges. Matthew reads the parable ā€œas an example of the theme that the first shall be last and of the moral contrast between good and evilā€ (Ibid., p. 287). He leads his readers into the parable, we note, with a sketch of the end of time (ā€œat the renewal of all thingsā€ . . . ā€œand when everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal lifeā€) and a portrayal of the great reversal it brings about (ā€œBut many who are first will be last, and the last will be firstā€). The parable also speaks of those who have left home. As Warren Carter notes in his illuminating commentary, day laborers like those invited by the landowner to work in the vineyard,

ā€œ. . . were a common sight in theĀ agora, or marketplace (20:3) as they waited to be hired for work. They were a readily available pool of cheap labor for wealthier landowners and urban dwellers. Commonly uprooted from peasant farms taken over by wealthy landowners after foreclosing on debt, or forced from family plots because they could not support the household, they looked for agricultural or urban work, usually day by day and at minimal rates. During planting and harvest, work was readily available, ‘for vintage and haying’ (Varro, On agric 1.17.2), but in between times it often was not. For these ‘expendables’ or involuntary marginals . . . life was unpredictable, marked by unemployment, malnutrition, starvation, disease, minimal wages, removal from households, and begging. Their situation was more precarious than slaves since an employer had no long-term investment in them” (Matthew and the Margins, p.397).

We have seen their modern-day counterparts crowding the entrances to Home Depot parking lots. They are persons for whom the passage of the time of day could easily descend into hunger and a state of despair. Those not hired will end the day without resources to restore themselves for another day of anxious waiting to be hired; they will know themselves as persons without place or means to live. The question that has to be answered in the hearing of this parable is: ā€œWhat is right?ā€ā€”because those who are jobless at the day’s end have the same needs as those who are hired early in the morning. And what possibly could the hope for the renewal of all things mean for them?

Determining what is ā€œrightā€ is not so easy.

The narrative of the parable is structured according to the passage of time: from morning, to noon, then through the afternoon and into the evening. The landowner has promised that he will pay each of them ā€œā€˜whatever is right.” And as each new cohort arrives to work in the vineyard, the question ā€œwhat is right?ā€ has to resonate more stridently with those who came earlier—and, of course, with the parable’s audience. The surprise at the end of the day is that all are paid the same, what those hired first agreed to, namely, a day’s living wage. Just so, those who came first want to know, what is right about equal pay for very unequal work?Ā And hearers who identify ā€œwith the complaint of the first-hired,ā€ opt ā€œfor a world in which justice is defined by a hierarchical relation between individuals (i.e., for a world in which the accounting should set matters aright.). To treat all the same is not just, because all are not alike, all have not earned the same.ā€

The issue is not justice but acceptance

But we have seen earlier what can happen when an accounting is expected to set matters aright. For example, in the parable of the king’s accounting we read last Sunday, an expectation of different treatment on the part of the servant elicited a demand from his fellow servants for an equally harsh punishment! It appears that it is indeed more difficult to say ā€œwhat is rightā€ than one at first thinks. But is it really a fair resolution that the landowner claims for himself: ā€œAm I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?ā€

Again the ground has shifted under the feet of the audience: there will be no resolution to the question ā€œwhat is right.ā€ As Scott explains, ā€œThe lack in the parable of any absolute standard of justice undermines any human standard for the kingdom.ā€ What then is the standard? For the parable, value or worth (i.e., a place in the kingdom), Scott argues, is determined not by what is right but by acceptance. The householder’s urgent though unexplained need for laborers is the parable’s metaphor for grace. It is not wages or hierarchy that counts but the call to go into the vineyard. The householder’s generosity lies not in the wage but in the need (Scott, p. 297). And because nothing is said about it being either planting or harvest time, the need is not so much the landowner’s own need, but rather that of the laborers themselves. Those who hear the parable as a story of injustice (ā€œThese last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heatā€) are sent away from the vineyard; they do not belong here with ā€œthe last.ā€

The vineyard is God’s vineyard—the world!

How then is this parable concerned with care of creation? Early, midday, afternoon, evening, the landowner persists through the cycle of the day. The workers are called, Scott notes, to service at ā€œnot simply any farm work but labor in a vineyard,ā€ which has the strong metaphorical potential of the Song of the Vineyard (Is 5:1-7) and Jeremiah 12:10, the vineyard which ā€œmany shepherds have destroyed.ā€ It is a richly significant place. And who is the householder? In Matthew’s casting, it is Jesus (Scott, p. 287). In our reading, it is Jesus as the Lord, the Servant of Creation. And he calls these persons at the margins to participate in the ā€œalternative economy of unlimited graceā€ which we envisioned in our comment on last Sunday’s readings, in which the gift of creation always creates the value to be enjoyed by those who participate in it. Here, too, is that ā€œalternative economyā€ in which an ā€œalternative egalitarian lifestyleā€ with its equal opportunity for meaningful work is regarded as the ā€œrightā€ thing, the good, GodlikeĀ thing, to do (Carter, p. 398). The workers were without place to work; but by the end of the day each of them has been restored to work in the creation and invited to enter into the joy of that ā€œgood thing.ā€

Can we offer work that is meaningful for people and that restores creation?

Among the strategies for developing a ā€œculture of creationā€ (identified by Norman Wirzba in hisĀ Paradise of God)Ā is the renewal of the meaning of work in relationship to the creation. Work that is severed from the rhythms of creation in places that are not familiar to us has an anonymous character, he suggests,

“that makes it impossible for workers to see practically how what they are doing might benefit or harm others, and vice versa. What we do, our productivity, serves a neighborhood that is unfamiliar to us, and so the affection and care that are the hallmarks of quality work, as well as the inspiration for a fulfilling and enjoyable work experience, are untapped. In a global economy, for the most part, we do not see the effects of what we do because they take place, oftentimes, thousands of miles away. Compensation serves as the substitute for the felt kindness and experienced blessing that otherwise would come from the close, affirming interaction among friends. . . More fundamental to work than its compensatory or its obligatory aspects is its ability to express gratitude and respect for innumerable benefits received. . . .Put positively, authentic or proper work and leisure reflect an attitude of attention to the orders and the needs of creation and a disposition to care for and preserve the rhythms and flow of life” (Wirzba, pp. 153-54).

The workers hired at the beginning of the day protested the seeming injustice of the landowner; they obviously thought mainly of their value in terms of the compensation they should earn, it seems. Those called later had the opportunity to learn about mercy, respect and gratitude from one who wanted to be not just an employer, but also one who would be a friend.

Can we root our work in the grace of creation?

Can members of a congregation learn to think differently about their work, and perhaps even to experience it differently? Possibly, if they can see themselves as people who have at least in spirit ā€œleft houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields,ā€ for Jesus’ name’s sake. As Wirzba suggests, drawing on the mystical insight of Meister Eckhart, in ā€œreturning to our ā€˜ground ‘. . . we come upon the experience of the grace of creation and there find our proper bearings for action. We learn that work is not foremost about us, but is instead the holy activity through which creation as a whole is sanctified. Work, rather than following from divine punishment, becomes the noble activity of presenting to God a creation strengthened and restored through the exercise of our hands, heart and head. It is to join with God in the divine work of cultivating and maintaining a garden (Gen 2:8-9).Ā Ā It is to enter into the flow of the divine beneficence and hospitality.ā€ For those who came last to the vineyard, all this opens up as possibility for them—for them, and for those who hear, whenever the invitation of Jesus to work in God’s vineyard is presented.

Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2011.
dennisormseth@gmail.com

Sunday July 3 – 9 in Year C (Ormseth)

The kingdom calls for down-to-earthĀ benefits for the entire community.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common Lectionary—Year CĀ by Dennis Ormseth

Readings for Series C (2013, 2016, 2019, 2022)

Isaiah 66:10–14
Psalm 66:1–9 (4)
Galatians 6:[1–6] 7–16
Luke 10:1–11, 16–20

This Sunday’s scriptures provide a basis for extending our reflections from the previous Sunday on the concept of the Kingdom of God as an ecologically sustainable Great Economy. Wendell Berry’s translation of the Kingdom as Great Economy, we saw, envisions a realm inclusive of all things, in which everything is in principle ā€œjoined both to it and to everything else that is in it,ā€ an order ā€œthat is both greater and more intricate than we can know.ā€ We participate in this economy whether we acknowledge it or not, but certain behaviors, especially the competitiveness that is the foundational dynamic of our capitalistic economy, are antithetical to an order that offers ā€œa membership of parts inextricable joined to each other, indebted to each other, receiving significance and worth from each other and from the whole.ā€ Those economies that presume upon this membership or violate it need to expect that ā€œsevere penaltiesā€ will be exacted; in terms of modern environmental discourse, they are not sustainable and will result, in due course, in ecological disruption and even collapse.

Jesus’ words and action as he turned his face toward Jerusalem embodied a principled refusal to engage in a culture of competition dominant in his time. A church seeking to model an ecologically sustainable economy in the face of our environmental crisis will heed his example by promoting activities that demonstrate ecologically sustainable membership in its neighborhood. Love of neighbor is a major theme of this section of Luke (and the explicit message of next Sunday’s Gospel); as we noted in last week’s comment, quoting Berry, ā€œthe good choice in the Great Economy is to see its membership as a neighborhood and oneself as neighbor within it.ā€

Thus, when Jesus sends the ā€œseventyā€ to go out into the harvest of the Kingdom in this Sunday’s Gospel, we understand that his followers are thrust into an arena of heightened ā€œcompetitivenessā€ that has the potential to explode at any time in violence. They are, as Jesus tells them, ā€œlike lambsā€ sent ā€œinto the midst of wolves.ā€ His instruction to ā€œcarry no purse, no bag, no sandals,ā€ might signal an obvious display of poverty that would forestall wayside robbery; so also the instruction to ā€œgreet no one on the roadā€ would prevent unwanted provocation. On the other hand, the guidance concerning purse, bag, and sandals could signal the intention to create a condition of dependence upon those who welcomed them into their homes; and Jesus’ further instruction to “remain in the same house,” leads us to suggest that these emissaries are to enter into the economy of that village ā€œeating and drinking whatever they provide,ā€ for they are ā€œlaborers who deserve to be paidā€ (10:7). Moreover, they are also to engage in ā€œcuring the sickā€; and the report of the seventy evokes from Jesus an acknowledgment of their success. We are reminded of the earlier freeing of the Gerasene demoniac from the destructive ā€œspirituality of the peopleā€ (the phrase is from Walter Wink; see our comment in this series on the readings for the June 19-25 Sunday after Pentecost).Ā Here even the chief demon, Satan, falls down in defeat.

By virtue of these behaviors, we are given to understand, the hosts might see that ā€œthe Kingdom of God has come near.ā€ Their purpose is to embody the ā€œpeaceā€ of the Kingdom that is the first word of the guests to their hosts. But this is no merely ā€œspiritualā€ peace. Especially when read alongside Isaiah 66, we are reminded that as Moses once before chose seventy toĀ provide for Israel’s welfare in the wilderness, so this new prophet ā€œgenerates a world of blessing where none seemed possible,ā€ as Walter Brueggemann puts it in a comment on our Old Testament lesson. Jesus ā€œis perceived to be doing what Yahweh characteristically does,ā€ transforming ā€œsituations of threat and distress into livable circumstances, wherein Israel surprisingly experiences joy and well-being.ā€ The results of the actions of the seventy portend an astonishing transformation of cosmic import, bearing witness ā€œto Yahweh’s capacity to bring life and fruitfulness out of circumstances of chaos and conditions of barrennessā€ (Walter Brueggeman,Ā Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis:Ā Fortress Press, 1997; pp. 204-205). Appropriately, Jesus’ blessing quickly follows: ā€œBlessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I tell you that many prophets and kings desire to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear itā€ (verses 23-24, not included in the assigned reading).

ā€œMake a joyful noise to God, all the earth,ā€ reads the expansive psalm for this Sunday, and the congregation will understand in this interpretation of our readings the grounds on which such all-inclusive praise is warranted. ā€œAll the earth worshipsā€ Yahweh in response to this narrative, because we have to do here with the God who ā€œturned sea into dry landā€ to provide not only safety in the Exodus from Egypt, but land, the ā€œspacious placeā€ in which they dwell (Psalm 66: 1, 4, and 12). But let the congregation also be mindful of the possible power of their witness to their faith in this God, in such appropriate demonstrations as they can mount of their vision of the Kingdom that is also a truly ā€œgreatā€ and accordingly fully sustainable Economy. As Paul’s letter to the Galatians reminds us, ā€œGod is not mocked, for you reap what you sow. If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit.ā€ Again, the words might suggest preoccupation with the Kingdom of God as heavenly realm; but this is not so. The Apostle’s counsel is for behavior that holds out the possibility of genuine down-to-earth benefit for the entire community of which we are members: ā€œSo let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.ā€ With the congregation at Galatia, we are to step out beyond the religious competition to curry God’s favor and enter ā€œa new creationā€ (6:15), the sustainable harvest of the Great Economy.

For additional care for creation reflections on the overall themes of the lectionary lessons for the monthĀ by Trisha K Tull, Professor Emerita of Old Testament, Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and columnist for TheĀ Working Preacher, visit:Ā http://www.workingpreacher.org/columnist_home.aspx?author_id=288

Sunday June 26 – July 2 in Year C (Ormseth)

Love the neighborhood as yourself!

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common Lectionary—Year CĀ by Dennis Ormseth

Reading for Series C (2013, 2016, 2019, 2022)

1 Kings 19:15–16, 19–21
Psalm 16 (8)
Galatians 5:1, 13–25
Luke 9:51–62

The learnings for care of creation to be drawn from this Sunday’s readings hinge on an interpretation of the concept of the ā€œkingdom of Godā€ from the Gospel and second reading. Would-be followers of Jesus, we are told, should ā€œlet the dead bury their own deadā€ and ā€œgo and proclaim the kingdom of God. . . . No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of Godā€ (9:60-61). Luke Timothy Johnson suggests that ā€œthe meaning here depends on the understanding of conversion as a ā€˜new life,’ with those not sharing the new life being in effect ā€˜dead.’” We are to understand that the preaching of the kingdom of God requires ā€œa sense of direction and concentrationā€ infused with prophetic urgency like that imaged by our first reading (The Gospel of Luke.Ā Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1991; p. 163).

The apparent tension in the text between valid concerns of everyday life—the obligation to bury one’s father, the slaughter of precious oxen to provide meat for a farewell feast, for example—and following the prophet whose face is set toward Jerusalem, might suggest that preaching the Kingdom has little if nothing to do with practical, economic considerations, however much it might have to do with ā€œnew life.ā€ We propose here, on the contrary, to adopt Wendell Berry’s insistence, in his essay on “Two Economies” (Home Economics.Ā San Francisco: North Point Press, 1987), that ā€œthe first principle of the Kingdom of God is that it includes everything; in it, the fall of every sparrow is a significant event. We are in it whether we know it or not and whether we wish to be or not.ā€ Furthermore, although we ā€œdo not and can never know either all the creatures that the Kingdom of God contains or the whole pattern or order by which it contains them,ā€ nonetheless in principle everything in the Kingdom of God is ā€œjoined both to it and to everything else that is in itā€ (Berry, p. 55). Berry makes this argument in order to assert the appropriateness of calling the Kingdom an ā€œeconomyā€ā€”indeed the ā€œGreat Economyā€ā€”which ā€œincludes principles and patterns by which values or powers or necessities are parceled out and exchanged.ā€ In this view, the Kingdom of God and the preaching of it can hardly be disconnected from the ā€œconcerns of everyday life.ā€ There is urgency here, to be sure, but the Kingdom has everything to do with such concerns, which we might in fact properly characterize as at least implicitly ā€œecological.ā€

This follows from Berry’s understanding of the ā€œGreat Economy.ā€ We find ourselves in the precarious condition of living ā€œwithin order and that this order is both greater and more intricate than we can know.ā€ And while we “cannot produce a complete or even an adequate description of this order, severe penalties are in store for us if we presume upon it or violate it.” The special situation of humans is that while ā€œfowls of the air and the lilies of the field live within the Great Economy entirely by nature . . . humans, though entirely dependent upon it, must live in it partly by artifice. The birds can live in the Great Economy only as birds, the flowers only as flowers, the humans only as humans. The humans, unlike the wild creatures, may choose not to live in it—or, rather, since no creature can escape it, they may choose toĀ actĀ as if they do not, or they may choose to try to live in it on their own terms. If humans choose to live in the Great Economy onĀ itsĀ terms, then they must live in harmony with it.ā€

(While Berry develops his argument with reference to Matthew 6, we see no reason not to apply his understanding to the concept in these readings as well). A good human economy will define and value human goods so as to conserve and protect them, as does the Great Economy.Ā Ā Nevertheless, certain differences pertain: the dependence of a human economy on the Great economy means that humans can only add value to things in nature, not originate value. A human economy must ā€œalso manage in such a way as to make continuously available those values that are primary or given, the secondary values having mainly to do with husbandry and trusteeshipā€ (Berry, p. 61). ā€œThe Great Economy,ā€ Berry insists, is ā€œboth known and unknown, visible and invisible, comprehensible and mysterious. It is, thus, the ultimate condition of our experience and of the practical questions rising from our experience, and it imposes on our consideration of those questions an extremity of seriousness and an extremity of humilityā€ (Berry, p. 57).

Given this understanding of the Kingdom of God as Great Economy, what can we draw from this Sunday’s readings concerning Jesus’ possible orientation to ecological concerns? The narrative, Luke Timothy Johnson observes, begins the ā€œgreat middle sectionā€ of Luke’s Gospel.Ā Ā With his face set to go to Jerusalem, he immediately encounters resistance from a Samaritan village and has to respond to his disciples suggestion that they bring down fire to ā€œconsumeā€ them. The conflict relates to the ‘ancestral antipathy between Judeans and Samaritans based in the rivalry between the shrines of Mt. Gerizim and Mt. Zion, and on a whole cluster of disputes concerning the right way to read the sacred books, messianism and above all, who was a real Israeliteā€ (Johnson, p. 163). That he was headed toward Jerusalem would have been interpreted in the village as a choice for the competing shrine, a competition in which the disciples were only too happy to engage. Jesus’ rebuke was meant to dissuade the disciples from engaging in such competition; instead, as the following exchange reveals, they should ā€œgo and proclaim the Kingdom of God,ā€ which would entail transcendence of that conflict in an embrace of and advocacy for the inclusive reality of the Kingdom. As the disciples will soon understand, that his face is set to go to Jerusalem with prophetic urgency shows that he is equally against the choice of JerusalemĀ Ā and its authorities over Samaria.

The significance of this narrative is further illumined by our second reading. The Apostle Paul is also concerned about the ā€œkingdom of God,ā€ for which he proscribes an ethic of life in the Spirit. He insists that the freedom to which Christians are called cannot be used as ā€œan opportunity for self-indulgenceā€ (Galatians 5:13) because it leads to those ā€œworks of the fleshā€ that preclude one from participation in the ā€œkingdom of God.ā€ His long and dreadful list of such behaviors is notable for their inherently selfish orientation within basically social or even economic relationships. ā€œIf you bite and devour one another,ā€ he warns with graphic metaphor, ā€œtake care that you are not consumed by one another;ā€ ā€œlet us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one anotherā€ (Galatians 5:15; 26). Paul in fact generalizes here on the ethical principles of the Kingdom Jesus proclaimed. The freedom to which we are called, he insists,Ā Ā instead requires, paradoxically, that we ā€œbecome slaves to one anotherā€ in a life in the Spirit characterized by ā€œlove, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control,ā€ all virtues that are inherently and positively social, in accordance with the commandment to ā€œlove one’s neighbor as oneselfā€ (5:14, 22).

While neither Luke nor Paul has in view anything specifically related to the ecological crisis of our age, there emerges here an ethos that brings the human economy into consonance with the Great Economy.Ā Ā Again, Wendell Berry sees the connection. When the existence of the Great Economy is acknowledged, he notes, ā€œwe are astonished and frightened to see how much modern enterprise is the work of hubris . . . based on invasion and pillage of the Great Economy (Berry, p. 65). While Jesus forbids competition in favor of the transcendent Kingdom, and Paul warns against its reciprocal ā€œconsumption,ā€ it is Berry’s observation that as the ā€œruling principle in our explanation of reality and in our understanding of economy,ā€ competitivenessĀ ā€œimposes a logic that is extremely difficult, perhaps impossible, to control.ā€ That logic explains why our cars and our clothes are shoddily made, why our ā€œwastesā€ are toxic, and why our ā€œdefensiveā€ weapons are suicidal; it explains why it is so difficult for us to draw a line between ā€œfree enterpriseā€ and crime. If our economic ideal is maximum profit with minimum responsibility, why should we be surprised to find our corporations so frequently in court and robbery on the increase? (Berry, p. 762).

In the Great Economy, on the contrary, ā€œallĀ transactions count and the account is never ā€˜closed,’ so ā€œthe ideal changes:ā€

We see that we cannotĀ affordĀ maximum profit or power with minimum responsibility because in the Great Economy, the loser’s losses finally afflict the winner. Now the ideal must be ā€œthe maximum of well-being with the minimum of consumption,ā€ which both defines and requires neighborly love. Competitiveness cannot be the ruling principle, for the Great Economy is not a ā€œsideā€ that we can join nor are there such ā€œsidesā€ within it. Thus, it is not the “sum of its parts” but a membership of parts inextricably joined to each other, indebted to each other, receiving significance and worth from each other and from the whole. One is obliged to ā€œconsider the lilies of the field,ā€ not because they are lilies or because they are exemplary, but because they are fellow members and because, as fellow members, we and the lilies are in certain critical ways alike (Berry, p. 72-73).

Loving one’s neighbor as oneself, we might say, necessarily requires a community of neighbors, or a neighborhood. And within the context of the ā€œkingdom of Godā€ as a Great Economy, that neighborhood would be comprised of all relationships between existing creatures, however known or unknown, visible or invisible, comprehensible or mysterious. For a human, Berry concludes, ā€œthe good choice in the Great Economy is to see its membership as a neighborhood and oneself as a neighbor within it,ā€ as indeed, a neighbor who loves the neighborhood as oneself.

For additional care for creation reflections on the overall themes of the lectionary lessons for the monthĀ by Trisha K Tull, Professor Emerita of Old Testament, Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and columnist for TheĀ Working Preacher, visit:Ā http://www.workingpreacher.org/columnist_home.aspx?author_id=288

So We Can Restore Creation

While caring for the environment can feel overwhelming, it’s when we stand together, each doing our part, that we find hope, gain strength, and make a difference. Find a tool below to help celebrate God’s gifts to us!

Download (Click Here) the information shared from Portico and Lutherans Restoring Creation at Churchwide Assembly 2019 to celebrate our progress and map the long way we still need to go to restore creation.

Join Up

Adults, start by taking the LRC Personal Covenant.Ā  In 5 – 10 minutes, complete your covenant with creation. You’ll start to receive LRC’s monthly Good Green e-News linking you to other Lutheran earth-keepers and helpful resources.

ELCA Retirement Plan members, invest consciously using Portico’s ELCA social purpose funds.Ā Call a Portico Financial Planner at 800.922.4896 to learn whether you’re in the social purpose funds and how to make that choice.

Children, take the Child’s Pledge With Creation.Ā  Print out this out and discuss with your family. Tip: Frame your completed pledge using a larger piece of cardboard like a cereal box and decorate it with magazine photos that are important to you.

Teens, take the Youth Pledge.Ā Then, walk through the Your Day experience, reflecting on how your daily decisions can impact others with whom we share this planet.

Inspire Others

Rally your congregation to take the Congregational Covenant with Creation.Ā Then, use LRC resources to create an action plan with support from LRC mentors.

Active Earth-keepers, become a Green Shepherd in your synod.Ā  As your synod’s point person for LRC and ELCA Advocacy and Stewardship outreach, learn to identify, connect and motivate other ā€œgreen sheepā€ in your synod.