
| November 11, 2007 Luke 20:27-38 Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her.” Jesus said to them, “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.” It was actually about 9 years ago, almost to the day, that I last shared a message on this passage from the Bible, and after studying it again, I can now remember why I intentionally avoided preaching it on again, avoiding it at least two other times when it came up as a suggested text in the lectionary cycle. Its not that the obvious message is difficult to preach, or the text itself is all that difficult to interpret, but that the question being struggled within the text is not a question a lot of us ever really ask—most of us wouldn’t think about getting married seven different times to seven of our brother-in- laws just in order to have children. This is a question of Mosaic law that seems foreign and arcane to most of us, though, of course, there is an important message here and it mostly has to do with something one of my closest friends Phil talked to me about many, many years ago. Phil was a friend of mine in Tuscaloosa, the town where I went to college, though he lives now in Birmingham, and is one of those folks who you may not to talk to for months, or sometimes even years, but when you do get together, it feels as if you just saw each other days ago—it’s a friendship that is easy and graceful, and so it’s also the kind of relationship where some big issues get discussed. In the early nineties, in one of those easy and yet profound moments, Phil shared with me what he thought religion was all about. He had come from Church of Christ background—not a UNITED Church of Christ background, mind you—which is a denomination that has close historical ties to Disciples of Christ, and, interestingly enough, to one of the four streams that came together to make up the United Church of Christ. Phil hadn’t been active in church in years, despite his parent’s continued faithfulness to the Church of Christ. We were having one of those profound late night conversations somewhere, probably over some adult beverages, when he made the comment that he thought the only real question religion needed to answer was what happened to us when we died. Now, I should have known that this question was the one that Phil believed Christianity or any religion was meant to answer, because over the years our discussion about faith always seemed to drift back to the afterlife. Now, I have to admit that it was a little startling to me because I had always thought of faith as being about the here and now, the world currently being gotten through, rather than about the world to come. But for Phil, it really was about the next world, and what happens to us when we stop breathing. Now, I don’t think you can’t attribute it to his age, because he was just a few years older than I was, and when I first got to know him, he was also a recent Auburn University graduate, which just shows you how magnanimous and open minded I can really be, so it wasn’t that he was facing the end anytime soon. I just think that somehow he had gotten the message through his years in the Church of Christ that the question being answered in Christianity was the one being posed by death, by the end of our physical presence here on earth. But being a southerner, and growing up in a culture that really emphasized that if you didn’t turn, you were going to burn, it made sense that he had that idea, that it had seeped into his understanding of faith, even if he hadn’t directly gotten it from the Church of Christ church he grew up in, though I think he got some of it from his background, a background that emphasized personal salvation which then guaranteed entrance into heaven. Now, to be fair, Phil wasn’t exactly unique in his particular understanding of the role of religion, because it wasn’t as if the Sadducees in our story today didn’t think about trying to answer those same kinds of questions—I mean, here they are, asking a question about the afterlife. But what’s interesting about the Sadducees asking this particular question is that they didn’t think much of the afterlife, and they didn’t agree with Jesus, who believed, alongside the Pharisees, interestingly enough, in this idea of the resurrection of the dead. Remember, Jews didn’t have a very elaborate or detailed understanding of the afterlife, and they certainly didn’t have a doctrine about the resurrection of the dead until about 100 years before the birth of Jesus, this idea that God would raise our bodies from the ground on that last day, that our spirits and our new bodies would be reunited at the very end of time. So, in many ways, this is a trick question for Jesus, perhaps because they wanted to catch him siding with the Pharisees in this doctrine that they considered false. But, of course, Jesus doesn’t fall into the trap, it seems, though he freely admits his belief that our bodies are so important that we will somehow, in someway, spend eternity in them—bodies that are new, just as Jesus’ body was new when he himself was raised from the dead, and yet, the same, because even Jesus had few scars from that nightmare on the cross when he showed himself to those early disciples after he came out of his own grave, the firstborn of the resurrection to come for many, many others. I think it’s a powerful affirmation of the goodness of our bodies, of what it means to be flesh and blood in this world, that Jesus says that our bodies in this world matter, fragile and scarred and beautiful as they may be in this very moment. I don’t the know the details, and Jesus didn’t share much with us, but the Sadducees don’t care much for details either, because the whole question is set up in a way that is meant to trick Jesus into eventually being labeled a heretic by the priestly professional class that were the Sadducees, a group that was the complete opposite of the Pharisees, which was a much more lay led Jewish reform movement. Jesus simply takes the bait, and even pushes their buttons by comparing humans to angels, which is something else the Sadducees didn’t believe in—he’s pushing right back, right back in their faces. The world to come is not like the world that is, we don’t get married, we don’ t do things like we’ve always done them, in this world to come. And then he turns the argument to Moses and a moment in the book of Exodus where God names himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and God speaks of these patriarchs as if they were alive, as if in the moment God is speaking with Moses in that burning bush, that these now dead great men of faith were in the room, so to speak, present before God just as he was speaking to Moses. God just wasn’t once their God—God is still their God! It’s this last piece that is intriguing to me, because I think it’s the heart of the passage, and it moves the conversation from the kinda silly topic of whose going to be whose husband in the afterlife to something more profound, and something that matters to us in the here and now. You know, I just think its ironic that you have Jesus responding to this conversation about death by pointing to life, to pointing to something more than the details about the world to come. Other religions have great incredibly detailed understandings of the afterlife—the Buddhists have karma and the eternal wheel of reincarnation, the Muslims have Muhammad giving elaborate pictures of Paradise in the Koran, but that’s not case with either Judaism or Christianity—the world to come remains shrouded in mystery, and sometimes even confusion, but what is promised is more life, more presence with the Life-Giver. In the middle of a conversation about the world to come, Jesus points them to life itself—life that begins in the here and now, and then stretches into eternity. Jesus says Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.” That last line…for to him all of them are alive....that is a profoundly different way of looking at the universe than the way we look at it. For us, the world seems to be divided between the living and the dead, but for God it seems as if we are always alive, never finished, never done with, never out of the care and embrace of God. And I wonder what it would mean to really embrace God’s view of the world, to try to see the world as not divided between the living and the dead, though I know we often talk that way about those who are now only in God’s sight. But beyond talking about it, what it would mean to think of those we have lost to the next world as still truly, TRULY being present in this world. On All Saints Day, the church often speaks as if the ones who have gone on are still here, still in the room, still in the midst of worshipping God as we are doing at this time. What would it mean to really think of this sanctuary as being crowded with those thousands of people who have been a part of us, our friends, our families, maybe even the Furman Sisters too, the place crowded to rafters with those who loved God and loved each other in this place? If God sees them as being alive, why shouldn’t try to see the world the way God sees it? Now, of course, we will mourn the ones we can no longer love the way we used to love them, as flesh and blood, but we all have to learn how to love differently at different points in our lives, and so maybe God is continuing to invite us to learn to love as God loves this world, to see the world as not one defined by life and death, but as a world a completely alive, always alive? I don’t know about you, but I have to admit, that looking at this passage again, it helped me to shift my gaze in this world to something different. I miss my father, who passed almost a decade ago, but I think I miss him less, because his life is not really defined by his beginning and ending, but by what God sees, and what God sees, it seems, is just more life, more story, more wonder, more joy. You know, over the years I’ve thought about how I would try to answer my friend Phil’s particular understanding of what Christianity means—or any religion, for that matter. And I think I would now try to answer him with something like this: You know, if you’re looking for a religion that tries to answer in detail what happens to you when you die, Christianity is not that religion. Christ did not focus on that issue because he knew that living this life was going to pre-occupy us enough, and he wanted our attention here, in this world, with all of its complexity and its challenges, and with all of its beauty and joy. The next life we will have is a continuation of a story we are writing right now, right here in this world, and that’s where Jesus wants us to focus our lives on. Not on the next chapter, but on the story that’s being written now. We will go forward into life, but Christ is not concerned so much with the afterlife as he is with this life. Following Christ is not to be obsessed with the life to come, but with the life that is present. To follow this Christ is to be rooted in life, because Christianity is a life-based faith—“God is not God of the dead but of the living; in God’s sight all are alive.” Isn’t that what the resurrection is all about, both Christ’s resurrection and our imminent resurrections?! “HE’S ALIVE!” the women tell the disciples frantically at the tomb. And one day those words will ring in our ears as well. We are writing the story of our lives into eternity, but the writing starts now, at this moment, in this life. AMEN. |