Chain of Command (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I recently saw a TV show where a traveling faith healer set up a large tent outside London. People came, night after night, to beg the healer to intervene for them with God. They all wanted just one thing: to be well. And the healer, invoking the name of God, appeared to heal all manner of frailties.

That's the kind of scenario we associate with faith healers: while in the physical presence of someone claiming to represent God, people appear to be healed of what ails them. There are witnesses, witnesses who can praise the healer and God for the miracle. It's as close to a standard as we come with this kind of thing.

So, with that standard in mind, imagine this scenario: an army captain is stationed is a foreign country where there is a history of insurgents trying to overthrow his government's presence there. The captain couldn't be more different than the locals; wealthy, well educated, a favored son of his country, and has a completely different religion. One day, he is informed that one of his staff has fallen ill; so ill, in fact, he is likely to die. The captain goes to local community leaders and asks them to reach out to an itinerant preacher and (supposed) miracle worker, who is traveling through that part of the country. The captain would like for the preacher to come and heal the ailing man.

Can you imagine an officer in our army doing such a thing? As the more advanced country, our healthcare is almost certainly better than any available in a "second world" foreign outpost. And, even stranger, would one of our army officers seek help from a local "miracle worker"? It sounds too bizarre to be believed.

And yet.

That's what's going on in the Luke passage in this week's Lectionary selections. Jesus enters Capernaum and is soon approached by the Jewish elders on behalf of a Roman Centurion! The local military leader of the repressive regime that has conquered their country! And if that's not strange enough, they want Jesus to come with them to the Centurion's house so he can heal the Centurion's servant! But, while this may sound very unusual to us, Jesus appears to just take it in stride. He agrees to go.

And, though quite a bit out of the ordinary, at least it meets the faith healing standard: Faith healer does the healing in the presence of witnesses.

It's what happens next that shocks even Jesus.

While on their way, a message comes from the Centurion to Jesus: “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. That is why I did not presume to come to you. Instead, say the word, and my servant must be healed. For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me. I say to this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my [servant], ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” (‭‭Luke‬ ‭7:6-8‬ ‭NET‬‬, http://bible.com/107/luk.7.6-8.net)

Scripture says Jesus was amazed, that He marveled at the Centurion's faith in Jesus' authority. Everyone else, even Jesus, was expecting the standard. Instead, because of this Gentile's surprisingly expansive faith, Jesus honors his request. He does not go to the Centurion's house, and yet, the servant is healed anyway.

The authority of Jesus has not diminished by even the tiniest part since this happened.

What does your faith allow?

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 4 (9) (May 29, 2016)
First reading and Psalm
1 Kings 18:20-21, (22-29), 30-39
Psalm 96
Alternate First reading and Psalm
1 Kings 8:22-23, 41-43
Psalm 96:1-9
Second reading
Galatians 1:1-12
Gospel
Luke 7:1-10
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Friday morning's coming! If you can join us for Lectionary Breakfast, we would be delighted. We still gather at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for an hour not quite like any other. Food, faith, and a shocking amount of fun :-)

Enjoy the week!
Steve

I Was A Teenage Pharisee!

“I Was a Teen-Age Pharisee!!” (a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr for the Liturgy of the Palms)

In the fall of my 7th grade year in school, I ran for Student Council.  I lost.  I did that again in the 8th Grade.  And the 9th.  Annnnnd, the 10th.  But the 11th grade was a very special year for me.  Oh, I lost my run for the Student Council that fall, too.  And to the same guy I always lost to: Bobby King (not his real name).   But something new happened that year.  That spring, I became a viable candidate for Student Council President because Bobby King was not allowed to run.  The faculty and the Principal decided he was over-committed; and since he was unwilling to give up anything, they denied him his request to be a candidate for the Presidency.  Finally, I felt, I was going to get mine.  I had scoped the only other person allowed to run, and I knew I could beat him. I was finally going to get elected, and not only that, but elected to the highest office.  I felt excited, happy … assured.

The day finally came.  The polls would open immediately following the candidate’s speeches in the auditorium  And if I had had any concern, it vanished after we finished our speeches to the student body.  The other candidate spoke first.  I spoke second.  Based on the applause, I clearly had the upper hand. 

Then it happened.  The Principal asked if there were any nominations from the floor.  And for the first time that anyone could remember, someone was nominated from the floor.  A fellow popped out from the side stage and uttered the very words I feared: “I nominate Bobby King!”  For his part, Bobby was seated in the very last row, the very highest point on the floor of the auditorium.  He stood and slowly walked down the sloping aisle toward the front.  As he passed each row of students, they rose to their feet, cheering and applauding loudly.  By the time he mounted the stage it was obvious to everyone that he would be the winner.

I was crushed … and angry.  I felt everything I had worked for had been stolen from me; not just for that election, but for all the years I had been trying.  With each rising row of student, shouting their accolades and praise for their chosen leader, my envy and jealousy rose.  And rose.  And rose.  His triumphal procession to the front made me so angry.  More than anything else in the world, I wished him gone.  Instead, I was forced to just watch as it all fell apart before my eyes. 

That is what the Pharisees felt when they watched Jesus descend from the Mount of Olives in a triumphal procession toward Jerusalem (It's in this week's Lectionary passage of Matthew 21:1-11, but is more fully described at Luke 19:28-48).  They felt it all belonged to them; and they could not abide the thought someone else would take their place; that someone else would have all that power.  

Not pretty; not then, not when I was in high school, and not now.  Do we, like the Pharisees, want to keep hold of the power?  Are we trying even now to push Jesus from the lordship of our lives?  Or do we embrace “the stone that the builders rejected” (Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29) as the cornerstone of our lives.