Chapter Five: A People Who Are Not a People

Under this heading, we are going to visit with some real people. What other kind could there be? Well, what I mean is, minus the masks that we often wear to be socially acceptable. In each case there are going to be particulars that set a person apart totally from all others. The solutions presented are not going to be the same either. What we will be talking about is the bible in Story.

Hopefully, we will be able to establish the concept that the oral message preceded the written one. So often, people want to start with sacred literature that was already highly developed. Consider what the passing of fifty years in your own life can mean. This same "life" exists in any belief system. It is possible and probable that a system can develop into something not intended at the outset. The logic, then, will be to deconstruct and find the beginning -- a search for origins.

Have you ever noticed that the really great words of Jesus were spoken to the unfit? "John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and you say,'He has a demon.' The son of man came eating and drinking and you say, He is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners" (Luke 7:33-34 NIV). Immediately after recording these words, Luke narrated the story of a dinner in the home of Simon the Pharisee in which a sinful woman anoints the feet of Jesus with tears and perfume, and dries them with her hair. Simon argued that a true prophet would have known the kind of woman this was, with the implication that he would not have allowed so much as a touch. In response, Jesus told a story of two debtors -- one owed much, the other little. The debts were all forgiven by the banker. Question: "Which of the two would love him more" (Lk 7:42)? Answer: "I suppose the one who owed the greatest debt." Turning to the woman, Jesus acknowledged that his host had not extended even so much as the common hospitality of water for his feet, but she had not stopped kissing his feet. "Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much...Your faith has saved you, go in peace" (Lk 7:47-50 NIV).

Luke differed from other narrators by intentionally grouping stories by subject matter rather than chronological order. He was unconcerned about whether or not these events actually took place at the same time. What really was he saying? It was a simple story about a man who considered preservation of the righteous self-image to be of great importance. Set against this prevailing view, we were led to envision a picture of giving gifts: She, her perfume and tears. Jesus, the forgiveness of her past, and a different journey in her life. But the story doesn't just state facts about a person who otherwise would have gone unnoticed except for her past. Where did Jesus direct her to go? Would not the Savior tell her where to go for further instructions? And with whom would she associate if the righteous would not have her? Maybe if she had shown up at synagogue and said, "But Jesus forgave me", the doors might have swung open and the chief seat provided for this person whose life had been changed. Or was it more likely that she continued to get the cold shoulder? Quite possibly, the only effective means she would have had to express her new-found life would have been to wander about like Jesus and spread unconditional love. What Jesus offered was a beginning. Was she sincere or not? There was no audience to persuade, but this one and he does not ask. People want quick and easy answers, even if they're wrong. Jesus said "Go in peace." The rest is food for thought and application in our own journeys.

Next, we visit with an a person who was thought to be a real low-life. But first, a few oft-quoted words to remember: "The son of man came to seek and to save the lost"(Luke 19:10 KJV). These words have been heralded by evangelists of every kind. Now, let's consider the source -- the little man who climbed a tree to see Jesus. When Jesus stopped and announced that he would go home with Zacchaeus, the people were astounded because they knew he was a sinner. Is it coincidence that Luke mentions the story, or does he have some knowledge of oppression? A collector of Roman taxes would have been somewhere lower than a snake's belly in the eyes of the holy. "With such a one, you should not even eat" would be the bywords they muttered. Zacchaeus couldn't enter the Temple, so the Temple came to him. Ecstatic, Zacchaeus welcomed him into his home. He was so genuinely happy to be recognized by the one from God that he pledged half his wealth to the poor. But listen to what Jesus had to say to him: "Today, salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham" (Luke 19:9). Luke didn't say this "about him", but it was said "to him." What is the significance of that? Did it really matter that others could catalogue this life with dark passages? Or was there a great show made of the outcome so Jesus could affirm both himself and Zach? And again, where were the fine print of Jesus' detailed instructions of how to get everything right? It's another beginning.

Hegel, the philosopher, described the dialectic method as thesis -- antithesis --synthesis. As a descriptive method it explains how new thinking develops by contrasting difference. Imagine a world where everything was the same -- Groundhog Day every day. Those who dream of sameness would feel very comfortable in such an existence. But that is not real. One of characters in the gospel of John provides a study in contrast. While much of Christendom is wrapped up in determining who is excluded (not a novel approach, by the way), there is a question of a different hue that can be asked: Not who did Jesus exclude, but who did he include in the circle of his existence? John described her as a woman taken in adultery (John 8). If we forget the polite language, we might get a clearer picture of the story and its implications. In its day, the incident was more like an X-rated movie -- she was caught in the act! No names please! Scribes of the law and Pharisees came to Jesus quoting the demand of scripture that she be stoned to death. Why bring her to Jesus then? The whole situation points out that the Jewish leaders planned to make Jesus look like a fool for opening the doors of God to anyone. Very well then, Jesus responded, "He who is without sin can cast the first stone." It's easy to miss, but did you catch the simple theology? What gave Jesus the right to pronounce a filthy person clean? His answer was the same as stripping the clothes right off them and exposing their hideous naked bodies for all to see.

Now, what were the words prepared for the adulterous woman? "Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more (Jn 8:11)." Classic. We've heard it a thousand times, but do the words hide behind a veil of preconceived notions that adds "buts" to this verse so it really doesn't mean what it says? But wait -- did you ever notice the following verse? "Then Jesus spoke to them again saying, I am the light of the world. He who follows me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life (Jn 8:12).

Across time there has been no more arresting genre than the muse. Work has always dominated the larger part of the hours of life, but it was the interruptions that stole the hearts of men. Seems like one solitary moment of story, legend, event could stretch into hours of engagement of the mind. Power lied in being able to wrest the mind from the equatorial doldrums of day-in, day-out existence. It was, in fact, those extraordinary events which marked time and place and being. Of all the things that the Crucifixion became, it was first and foremost, Drama.

The time, the place, the characters, the Event -- all were characteristically what Apocalyse Now termed "the horror." The Romans were experts at extracting every ounce of human drama in death. Barbaric, we call it, but no less than frying thousands in a nuclear inferno.

Mom always chimed, "You are known by the company you keep." The old words hover over the place of the Skull where Jesus became a spectacle for all to observe and remember the grisly image. There, between two criminals, the Spectacle was on display.

The thief that stole heaven was there too. The salvific promise of paradise is well known to all, but there is a mystery not so known in this story. The riddle is...to what religious system did this individual belong? Understand, the question is not, "Was he a Jew?" or "Was he a Christian?" Both systems by human standards would not have accepted this son of Adam, a sinner condemned to a just death. Delving a little deeper into the mystery, we might ask how salvation was offered? Jews would acknowledge the Torah and its rightful place. Christians would in turn appeal to the more developed examples of fruits of repentance. The mystery is this...neither, in reality, would (B)want such a person to be part of the family.

When we say, "A people who are not a people," what does that mean? How do those words relate to the persons in Jesus' life -- the ones who gained him the reputation of being a drunkard and a friend of sinners? These were wilderness people who had been walled out by the trappings of institutional faith. How we miss the point of Jesus' teaching if we simply dress the same Adamic nature of rights of possession in a different garb. What Jesus taught was a radical redefinition of faith and its identifiers. Who are his people? They hear his voice, Jn 10:27. They are "a people God chooses...a people that only God possesses, called out of darkness into his marvelous light, who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, who had not obtained mercy, but now are given it (1 Pt. 2:9)."

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