Saturday, July 7, 2012

Lifting a Hand Against the Lord's Anointed

So, I pretty much just made this blog to share this specific sermon with twitter folks, because they can't see facebook posts. It may or may not get filled out and maintained.  We'll see.  In the meantime, enjoy.  The following is my sermon for July 8, 2012.  I am in the midst of a series on David, so this text was already locked in before General Assembly.  It turned out to be surprisingly relevant.

The text is 1 Samuel 24, where David spares Saul's life.  Go read it. Okay.

Here we go:


It's amazing how your perspective can change.

I remember reading this story as a child in Sunday School, and it seemed to me then to be a story where David was peer-pressured into playing a prank, a funny trick on Saul, but then he felt bad about it and had to apologize.

In fact, there is a certain crudeness to the story, a hint of scandal and perhaps potty humor, that certainly appeals to the young. Saul is in the cave to, as our translation says, “relieve himself.” This is a euphemism in English, a nice way of saying what we don't really want to say. And it's not a bad translation, because the Hebrew also is a euphemism. It says, literally, that Saul went into the cave to “cover his feet.” That's a strange phrase which probably had nothing to do with feet at all. But it was a polite way in ancient Hebrew to explain what was happening without actually talking about the king's bodily functions. It's kind of like how a lady might say she is going to powder her nose.

We don't necessarily know what Saul needs to do, but it's apparently not something he wants to do in front of three thousand of his closest friends. He wants a minute of privacy. So he leaves his soldiers outside and enters this cave alone.

Only Saul is not alone.

David and his friends are hiding out farther back in the darkness of the cave. It's likely that Saul does not see them because while their eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the deep recesses of this cave, Saul's eyes are still adjusted to the bright sunshine outside, and he is now fumbling blindly in the dark.

So this is David's chance, and his men push him to take action.

"This is the day the LORD spoke of when he said to you, 'I will give your enemy into your hands for you to deal with as you wish.' "

Now, we're not sure when God said this, if at all. It's a promise not recorded elsewhere in David's story, so it's possible these friends are making it up or twisting something God actually said to suit their own ideas. That's a dangerous game to play. After all, it was the snake in the garden of Eden who started his pitch with, “Didn't God say....” Paraphrasing God can be a tricky business. But David listens to the men, even if he doesn't go as far as they'd like.

David sneaks up on Saul in the darkness, while Saul is distracted, and cuts off part of his robe.

It does seem like a kind of prank, like David is sneaking up to tape a “kick me” sign to the king's back. It doesn't hurt the king, but it seems designed to humiliate him, to make Saul look like a fool.

It's the sort of thing that kids do to their substitute teachers, tricking them in order to make the teacher look foolish and make a kid look cool and daring in front of his friends.

But immediately, David feels bad about it, saying,

"The LORD forbid that I should do such a thing to my master, the LORD's anointed, or lift my hand against him; for he is the anointed of the LORD."

The men clearly want him to go farther than this. They are looking not for a prank, but for violence. They want to kill Saul so that David can seize the throne. But David feels bad over even his little prank. Saul was chosen by God to be king, and David recognizes that it is wrong to try to humiliate him or make a fool of him. David pulls a funny prank, but then admits to what he has done and seeks the king's forgiveness.

That's how it sounded to me as a kid.

When I got a bit older, in high school or college or perhaps even seminary, this story sounded more like a story of civil disobedience, a non-violent way of striking out against “the man.”

Maybe instead of a kid in class with a substitute teacher, David was an oppressed young person resisting a violent and powerful regime through an act that was illegal, but non-violent. David is hiding in the cave because he has been exiled, forced to run as a fugitive because he is a threat to power and the king wants him dead. David is running out of options. He is tired and hungry and has not slept in a warm bed in a long time, and suddenly he gets this chance where he could kill his oppressor and be free once and for all. He could use violent means to accomplish his goal of freedom for himself and those who follow him.

But instead of striking out in violence, David chooses this symbolic act of civil disobedience. David cuts Saul's robe. Royal robes were a symbol of kingly authority, and to cut Saul's robe seems to be a way of stating that this king is losing his power. This oppressive reign will not last forever. David does not physically harm the king, but he strikes a powerful symbolic blow at Saul's power and status. David comes out looking like a bold leader in control, and Saul looks like a fool.

In this understanding of the text, David's character is like a Martin Luther King, Jr. He holds the moral high ground over his oppressor. Martin Luther King said,

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was 'well timed' in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. . . . We must come to see, . . . that 'justice too long delayed is justice denied.'”

David is taking direct action, to make a statement about this unjust treatment by a king who has been hunting him like an animal. David pleads for the justice that Saul does not want to give. David is the underdog against the powerful evil empire embodied by Saul. That was my second understanding of the text.

Now, I don't want to imply at all that understanding this text as a story of nonviolent resistance is an incorrect understanding or that civil disobedience is an immature thing to do. In fact, I believe that when the situation calls for it, breaking the law as an act of conscious disobedience can sometimes be the only moral option available. People of all ages were inspired to participate with Dr. King in resisting the oppression of racial injustice in this nation. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was a pastor before he was a civil rights leader, and his acts of nonviolent resistance to oppression were a powerful way of putting the gospel into action, of demanding justice for all God's children.

What is immature, however, is the tendency to decide that every time you are not in charge is an example of oppression, or that every rule you don't like at this particular moment is an unjust law worthy of civil disobedience.

Not everything you dislike is injustice. There is an immature tendency to raise any perceived slight we experience to the level of racial segregation or Nazism. And though I use the word immature, I do not believe this tendency is exclusive to the young. It is a temptation at any age to see our own problems as if they were the biggest problems anyone had ever experienced.

David, though, is experiencing pretty dramatic problems in this text. Saul is, after all, trying to kill him. David has been running for his life for some time now. He has a group of friends and followers on his side, but they are no match for Saul and his three thousand armed men.

And David really has not done anything to deserve this. David did not choose for the prophet Samuel to come to his house and anoint him to be the next king, He did not declare himself God's chosen one. David did not go out to fight Goliath in order to become really popular and famous; he did it because no one else would. And David did not become the best friend of Saul's son Jonathan in order to weasel his way into Saul's household—he and Jonathan had true love and affection for one another. David has never done anything against Saul, and yet Saul keeps trying to murder him.

While most of the problems you and I have do not truly rise to the level of oppression and persecution, David's do. The king is really trying to kill him.

So it would be understandable if David did turn to violence. If he took this chance to kill Saul, he could claim that it was justified, that it was self-defense. And yet David chooses a different path. He sneaks up on Saul not to kill him, but to cut the corner of his robe, to prove that he could have killed him, but he chose not to. David says to Saul,

Some urged me to kill you, but I spared you; I said, 'I will not lift my hand against my master, because he is the LORD's anointed.' See, my father, look at this piece of your robe in my hand! I cut off the corner of your robe but did not kill you. Now understand and recognize that I am not guilty of wrongdoing or rebellion. I have not wronged you, but you are hunting me down to take my life. May the LORD judge between you and me. And may the LORD avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you.

Through this non-violent act of resistance, David proves that he is innocent, that Saul is hunting him down for no reason. And the author of 1 Samuel wants us to be clear that David was not leading some sort of coup, that he did not take over Israel by military force or stage a rebellion, but that Saul's decline from the throne and David's ascent to the throne was by divine choice. This story could well be used to justify acts of non-violent resistance to oppressive power. That's a valid understanding of the story.

And yet what strikes me about this text this particular week is David's language about “the Lord's anointed.”

This week, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) met in Pittsburgh to discuss issues both great and small and to make decisions on many controversial topics that divide our church, our nation, and our world today. They talked about everything from conflict in the Middle East to whether we still need synods, from the definition of marriage to the new hymnal.

General Assembly does important work, and those chosen as commissioners are empowered to make decisions that affect the rest of the church. Our theology as Presbyterians emphasizes the idea that God's will is revealed in community, and our polity, our system of government is set up to reflect the belief that we discern God's will best together, not separately. We believe in spreading power around, not concentrating it in a hierarchy. So we don't have bishops and a pope, but presbyteries and a General Assembly.

And yet, even when we make decisions by voting, it is inevitable that some of us will be unhappy about the result. And when we choose commissioners and delegates, they are meant to represent us all, but clearly not all of us can be there ourselves.

One of the concerns voiced this week at General Assembly was about the age of the participants. Perhaps we should not be surprised about this. After all, the word Presbyterian comes from the Greek presbuteros, meaning elder, or more literally, “old person.” We call ourselves this because our government is based in the idea that we are ruled by elders, and though we don't actually mean that elders have to be old, it often works out that way. Another factor is that many presbyteries choose their commissioners according to seniority. If we choose our representatives by seniority, we should not be surprised by the abundance of grey hair at General Assembly.

But when only 5 percent of commissioners are under age 35 and 80 percent qualify for membership in AARP, young people start to get a bit antsy. On many issues, young church members, people in my age bracket, have radically different perspectives than those of our parents and grandparents, and it can be incredibly frustrating to watch the church move at what seems like a snail's pace compared to the world around us.

I have been incredibly blessed for the last year to be in this role as your pastor, to speak to you each week and to use the gifts that God has given me to teach and lead. It is a true blessing and a privilege, and I thank both God and this congregation for this opportunity, for the trust you have placed in me.

But if I am being completely honest, I often feel that my voice is not heard at higher levels of the church. I, along with an elder, represent you at presbytery, but because I am (to my knowledge) the youngest and most newly-ordained pastor in our presbytery, it is not likely that I will be sent to General Assembly anytime soon. Many of my young colleagues across the nation share this problem.

And so I feel a kind of affinity for David in this passage. Let me be very clear. None of my older colleagues have ever expressed any desire to murder me. I'm sure you're relieved to hear that.

But those who hold power, who have been accustomed to power like Saul, can have a very hard time when someone else comes along and starts to change things. Saul was anointed by God to be king, and he is deeply offended by the idea that he and his family will not hold power forever.

David, meanwhile, has also been anointed by God. He knows he is called to lead. He knows he is chosen to be king. He knows he has the gifts and abilities to lead God's people. But there is still a king on the throne, and that king is trying to murder him.

Saul sees his power slipping through his fingers, and he lashes out at David, who threatens his throne. It is natural to have a sense of fear over change, especially when we have enjoyed a position of power within the status quo. As one commentator on twitter said during the assembly this week, “The only people who like change are babies with wet diapers. And even they don't like it much.” Change can be hard. It can be scary. Change is venturing into the unknown, and as humans we tend to fear the unknown. So perhaps we can muster up some sympathy for Saul. He really is the rightful king. He really was chosen by God to rule. So it's not for no reason that he defends his throne.

But David is also chosen, and this is the problem. How do we deal with the fact that our conflict is not between the chosen and the not-chosen, but rather a family disagreement between brothers and sisters in Christ who have all been chosen to serve and lead? When we have the opportunity to strike out against another, even if it seems we would be striking a blow for truth and justice, is it right to raise a hand against the Lord's anointed?

There is a tendency within all of us, myself included, to strike an opponent when we have a chance. For most of us, this does not play out in physical violence, but it can easily play out in verbal or rhetorical violence. We don't use a sharpened sword, perhaps, but rather a sharp remark meant to cut another down. Not the point of a spear, maybe, but a pointed comment meant to skewer a brother or sister's reputation. We might not shoot a gun, but we are all too eager to shoot our mouths off online or in person.

These too, are acts of violence. And when I strike out like this against my fellow Christians, against those in leadership in my denomination, against those who are beloved children of God who hold different views than my own, then I too, have lifted a hand against the Lord's anointed. I confess that there were times this week when my anger and frustration caused me to lash out in words that were ill-considered and less than loving.

As Presbyterians, we believe in this idea of the priesthood of all believers. We believe that all of us who follow Jesus, who confess our faith in Christ, are called to ministry to one another and to the world. The church is not some distant organization, ruling from on high.

The church. is. us.

And if we want the church to be different, than we have to be different. If we want the church to listen, we better start listening. If we want the church to love, we better start loving. If we want the church to make a difference in the world, then we need to start making a difference in the world. Because you and I are the Lord's anointed, too.

I do not believe that the struggles and conflicts in the Presbyterian Church are intractable. I do not believe we should lose hope. Yes, we have differences. Yes, change is always going to be hard. There will always be those like Saul who want to hang on to power at any cost. There will always be those like David's friends who urge us to defend ourselves and our side, to strike out in violence when we have the chance. But like David, we must not lift a hand against the Lord's anointed, because we are the Lord's anointed, too. And we have to learn to work together.

How might Israel's story have been different if Saul had acted out of faith instead of fear? How might things have changed if Saul had taken the opportunity to mentor David instead of driving him out? What if Saul had seen David's abilities as a valuable resource instead of a threat? What if Saul had learned from David's faith and learned to live and to lead the nation more faithfully as a result? What if Saul had looked his own son, Jonathan, and learned from his example of covenant love, love that is committed even when power is at stake?

I believe Israel's history could have been radically changed for the better. I believe Saul's story could have had a much happier ending, and I believe that perhaps David could have avoided making some of his own mistakes as king if he had been able to learn from Saul instead of running from him. But Saul didn't let that happen.

And yet.

God did not abandon the people even when their leaders made a mess of things. God did not abandon the people when their leaders were faithful and the people failed to follow. God did not abandon the people no matter how many mistakes they made and how many times they turned away. And God will not abandon us.

We may have conflict over many issues. We may disagree about how best to interpret and apply scripture. We may have differences in age, gender, race, culture, ability, sexuality, family and background that give us very different perspectives on the world. We will make decisions, and some of them will be wrong and some of us will be hurt. And some of them will be right, and some of us will still be hurt. But however many times we get it wrong, God will not abandon us. And we must not abandon one another.

In the closing worship at General Assembly, Rev. Yena Hwang said in her sermon, “We must trust that God knows what God is doing in using broken vessels like us.”

We will get it wrong. But we trust that God will get it right, that God will continue to work in and through our brokenness.

And in the meantime, may we not lift a hand against the Lord's anointed, but see one another as chosen and beloved children, made in God's image and called to God's service.

Saul, moved by David's act of mercy, said, “May the LORD reward you well for the way you treated me today.”

May our treatment of one another be worthy of God's reward as well.

Amen.