The Banner of Tzedakah

A storm is rising.  You can see the darkness on the horizon.  The wind whips through the trees with violent force, and then is eerily silent.  There’s a different feeling to the air.  The people have almost reached their breaking point.  The tension in the room so palpable, you can almost grasp it.  Those who are normally patient, are quick to loose their tempers.  The temptations that were thought to be mastered, have turned loose.  The dark memories, long since forgotten and buried, have come to life.   The earth shakes.  Hearts break.  If the storm is this bad now – what will it be like when hurricane comes?

When the church turns everything on its head,

And pursues that which God calls important…

As God is changing death to life,

Choosing the weak to save the strong,

And bringing restoration to all things,

What we once thought, broken and destroyed? 

As God brings healing,

The darkest moments of the night come just before dawn.

Can you feel the tension building as we have reached the fifteenth chapter, and Luke continues to tell of Jesus’ words week after week?  It’s the same tension that builds here and in every church around the world, when we ask the difficult questions, are forced to see our own lives in the shadow of the cross.  We don’t measure up.  But there are two kinds of “lostness.”  Immorality.  And morality.

The pot boils over as we hear Jesus’ teaching continue.  He has had the audacity to ask the Pharisees to come and rejoice with sinners.  The juxtaposition of those who have lost themselves to a religion of morality, instead of the holiness to which God has called them, as those chosen and set apart.  These people who hide behind what was once a beautiful and perfect gift from God.  They now use this gift to push away those whom God wishes to redeem, hiding their own “lostness,” less it be laid bare for the world to see.

But what of those who are truly lost?  Because of their own actions.  Or life circumstance.  Abuse.  Trauma gives way to pain. The darkness edges in and overcomes.  They cannot imagine anyone would dare to rejoice over them.

And yet we are left with the puzzling response of the Pharisees.  Murmuring. The words used in the Old Testament as the people of God grumbled -or murmured - against Moses and Aaron. This word only appears twice in the New Testament, and its rarity becomes the defining quality.  A deep guttural response.  The murmuring grows louder.  Grumbling becomes words of betrayal, and finally cries of anger.  Reaching its ultimate reality in the midst of midnight trials, vicious mobs, and a death sentence. 

But not much has changed in 2000 years.  It seems like that’s how it always is – the incredibly hard work to make the Gospel come alive.  Striving for people to have a deeper relationship with the Word of God.  And then we hear rumors.  Meetings that happen in the church parking lots after “the meeting.”  The countless hours given– normally met with complaints about the color of the carpet, the wrong note on the organ, that someone sat in the wrong pew, the worship leader saying something someone didn’t like.  Or worse – the labor of love spent on a campaign to share the Good News with the community, inviting them to visit the church for a need they dared in vulnerability to share – only to have an usher yell at them for how they were dressed.  The church meetings where true colors are shown and arguments erupt about using finances to help those outside the church.  It’s their own fault.  They aren’t even “our members,” why should we help them?

And so our hearts break.  We wonder – what are we doing wrong?  Can this really be true?  Is this what God has meant for his church, his bride?  Do we keep fighting the good fight or just give up?  Jesus’ answer to those who are grumbling, and to those who are struggling is a story.

Typically we diverge at this point into the statistics of how “dumb” sheep are, the funny anecdotes of their stupidity, and making the easy comparison from sheep to us …  We attempt a moment of light-heartedness in the midst of weeks of serious words from Jesus.  Afraid to be vulnerable once more.  To take in the words again.  What if the Spirit stirs in our souls and moves us to compassion, or even to joy?

As in all things, context is king.  And pausing for a moment to take it in will paint a broader picture, giving more beautiful strokes to the story Jesus is telling.  If we pause for a moment, we can begin to understand the deep anger of the Pharisees.  We are quick to write them off, but their complaint against Jesus is worth pondering for a moment.  “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”  In a culture where hospitality is key, all kinds of speculation can be made.  If hospitality is so important, wouldn’t you even feed your enemy or those you dislike?  A good conversation to take up at another point for sure, but the Greek word used here is “prosdechomai” which means to “welcome into the fellowship.”  Not a mere acquaintance.  Or a casual social contact. Jesus was accepting these unclean sinners into true and deep relationship.  His table.  His feast.  His banquet is big enough to include those who show their “lostness” on the outside or the inside.  The very heart of the understanding of the word “tzedakah.”  The teaching engrained into the hearts of the people: “that to be in right relationship with God, one must first be in a right relationship with his fellow man.”

And yet the scholar Dr. Kenneth Bailey takes the narrative a step further, explaining that 100 sheep show that this man has considerable wealth.   But even more important, in this particular culture, you would never tell someone that you lost a sheep.  Instead you would hear: “The sheep left me.”  Jesus is telling the Pharisees that they lost their sheep, and He went after the sheep to bring it home.  And now the anger makes sense. 

And as the parable continues, we read that the Shepherd had the arduous journey, after leaving everything behind and traversing the rugged terrain to bare the sheep home.  The incredible and difficult labor of love.  The Pharisees complain, and Jesus does all the work.

And so too do the complaints in our churches continue.  The angry words.  The grumbling.  But they are only met with a patient, loving, joy.  For those whose hearts the Spirit has stirred?  They greet the animosity with a deep joy that no one can steal.  For they find life under the shadow of the true understanding of “tzedakah” or the righteousness of God.  Knowing that it was impossible for us to be in right relationship, to care for the poor, to love the lost. Jesus traversed the rugged terrain from heaven to earth.  Bearing us and our burdens through the grumbling and shouts of anger, straight to the cross.  For He accepts responsibility for those who are lost, rather than saying “the sheep left me,” He comes to find us.  Those who realize it now, and those who will take years – much like the older brother – to understand.  He searches, counting the cost and deeming His beloved worth every drop of blood.  And then, invites us all to the great feast, rejoicing with the company of saints at the restoration of His flock.

And so dear church, as the storm rages, may you find great joy.  For as the church turns updside down with the beautiful mess of those who being found. As stories are told of the miracles of rescue.   As the banner of tzedakah is laid upon our shoulders, God breaking our hearts for what breaks His.  As restoration begins now and changes every dream we have ever had for the better. When the night seems long and it looks like chaos reigns, remember – joy comes in the morning.  “For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness, and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”  -Colossians 1:13-14