In our scripture reading for this morning, Paul is obviously very much in love with the Thessalonian congregation. Listen how he begins his letter with these affirming words, “We always give thanks to God for all of you, and constantly pray for you … remembering your work of faith, labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1:2-3)
The congregation in Thessalonica was made up of many Gentiles, that is, non-Jewish followers of Jesus. Before their conversion, these new followers of Jesus based their lives on the moral values of the surrounding culture. Now that their lives had been reoriented, some turned around, and grounded in the person and teachings of Jesus, they found themselves under siege from that same culture – to return back to the life from which they had come.
So Paul, knowing they were feeling this cultural pressure to abandon their newly found life, writes to encourage them to a life, of what some would call, “holiness.” “Lead a life worthy of God, who calls you into God’s own realm and glory,” says Paul to his Thessalonians friends.
Holiness. That’s a charged word for some of us. Some of us came from a faith tradition based out of what is known as the holiness movement. It’s about a lot of rules and regulations – that slowly change – way behind the times. I’m not talking about that kind of holiness.
According to theologian J. Holub, “To be ‘holy’ means to allow the life of God to take root and find expression, both in the individual, and in the community of faith.” In both the old and the new testaments, holiness is frequently associated with being chosen by God – not chosen for privilege, but chosen for a purpose.
In chapter 1 of Thessalonians Paul writes, “For we know brothers and sisters … that God has chosen you.” Again, it was not favoritism, meaning chosen for privilege, but chosen for a sacred purpose – and the purpose was that the life of God take root and find practical expression in their daily lives, both individually and communally. Another word we could substitute for chosen is called. It is simply language that is trying to describe the experience of being caught up in something that is bigger than oneself.
It’s like falling in love. When I counsel couples before performing their marriages, they almost all have a common story of how they fell in love. They describe it as almost being overwhelmed by something bigger than them individually, being captured by the presence of the other, that leads to their choice to get married.
The biblical language of called and chosen is trying to describe that kind of experience. Almost without exception, the various biblical accounts of being called or chosen share the common characteristic of being embraced by something they couldn’t shake; captured by something more than themselves; or experiencing something rise up from within themselves that surprised them, astonished them and set them on a new path of transformed living, even when some of them tried to resist it. Abraham and Sarah, Moses, Elijah, Queen Esther, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Isaiah, Mary, the disciples, Paul, all shared that kind of experience.
I don’t presume to know exactly why you come to church. Other than being with fabulous people like yourself, and to experience beautiful music and meaningful worship, I am sure your personal reasons are varied. However, I’m sure choice was likely a huge part of it. You choose to be here.
But I would also venture to say that alongside your choosing was perhaps a sense, maybe even unnoticeable, of being drawn, of being attracted, of being encouraged, of being caught up in something other than merely yourself. Of being part of a progressive Christian faith community that has a vision, a mission that you believe in. Of knowing that good things happen when we believe in miracles – and celebrate together when they happen.
Holiness then, is allowing that something other, that the Scriptures describe as the “life of God within you,” to emerge and take expression in your life, and also our life together as a community. That’s the basis of holiness. But what does holiness look like? What does the life of God look like in our daily lives?
In the Old Testament, there are books written by prophets – one of them was Amos. Speaking for God Amos writes, “I despise your religious festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and your grain offerings I will not accept them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like and ever-flowing stream.” (5:21-24)
Amos is one agitated prophet-dude! Amos had a hard job! First he was a prophet, that is, God’s messenger (not always bringing happy, feel-good news), and if that wasn’t hard enough, he was doing it in good and prosperous times.
Amos was a prophet to Israel in the 8th century B.C. during a time of great military expansion and national prosperity. In other words, times were good, people were fat cats, prosperous and felt secure – it was like living in New Orleans in a non-stop Mardi Gras – “laissez les bons temps roulez” – “let the good times roll!”
But all was not well! Amos was a man of “holiness” – that is, full of the life of God; wired in to God’s deepest passions. Amos knew that behind the façade of prosperity and security, (enjoyed mainly by the wealthy elite), there was a pathology undermining the nation and culture. A close reading of Amos shows that he had deep concerns.
Theologian Holub says, “Times may have been good for the powerful and wealthy, but not for everyone. Amos protested vehemently against the pervasive political oppression of the poor by the monarchy and wealthy urban elites. He protested against economic exploitation. The powerful and wealthy structured the economic system so that two-thirds of the annual production of wealth in the nation ended up in the hands of the wealthiest 1 percent or 2 percent. (Hmm … where have I heard something like that before?)
He protested against the fact that social injustice was religiously legitimated. In pre-modern societies, kings ruled by divine right and saw their status in terms of divine privilege.”
The point is, what we have in Amos is a contrast between two types of holiness. Israel, in Amos’ time, represented a holiness that lacked a commitment to social justice. Obviously, the wealthy elites were “religious:” faithfully observing the religious festivals, worshipping regularly, making their offerings, singing their songs – but they lacked a commitment to God’s great passion – a commitment to social justice for everyone.
What might justice look like in our time? There are so many justice issues – and we can’t wave a magic wand to solve them all at the same time – however Scripture is clear on some core biblical values: hospitality to strangers, concern for people in poverty, peacemaking and care for creation.
Holiness needs justice. Justice needs holiness. They go hand in hand. And with that we also need humility and love. What a beautiful recipe – God’s heart, combined with justice, mixed in with humility and love.
May we live our lives on the path to transformation in such a way that the life of God fills it, and spills out of it and into the lives of others, with a commitment to justice, compassion and humility.
If the Apostle Paul were to write a letter today, what would he write to The Met Church in San Diego? I know what I’d write:
“I always give thanks to God for all of you, and constantly pray for you … remembering your work of faith, labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.”
So be it, church. Amen.
