| January 28, 2007
You are welcome to reflect on this message
In every gathering of any size and diversity, there are always two polarities, constantly pulling against each other: conservative/liberal, or contemporary/traditional, but whatever you call it, it’s there: the struggle to relate the old, that’s here already, to the new that’s bound to replace it.
Jesus was an “in your face,” tell-it-like-it-is preacher. But he had an appreciation for the way life is structured. He bumped into problems in his own generation. He said “You can’t please ‘em.” No matter what you try. They won’t play wedding or funeral. You can pipe all day long and they won’t dance!” The old is ever giving way to the new in every generation. So he said in his Sermon on the Mount: “You’ve heard it said of old time...but I say unto you today.” You realize of course, that he was re-writing the Bible when he did that! His enemies sure did! Not even Jesus could get away with that!
Matthew also had an appreciation for both the old and the new. This is just a great text: "Therefore, every scribe trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old" (MT 13:52). Note the order: the new is before the old. That’s and important distinction I believe. What is the treasure that’s both “new and old?” The new, is Jesus Christ; Emmanuel, God with us. That’s brand new! And he gives us the teaching that is new. And the church that is new. With a mission that is new.
Israel has never yet become “a light to the nations,” caring only about it’s nation, so God had to try something else to preach the universal spirit. That’s where the church comes in. Matthew closes with “Go ye there into all nations...” And if the church won’t produce, “the stones will cry out.” Jesus’ arrival brings to fruition the final declaration at the end of the Apocalypse: “Behold, I make all things...new.” At the same time though, Matthew retains the old, because there’s value in it too. The ancient Hebrew texts, the prophetic traditions, the Messianic hopes of Israel all play a role in the gospel story. Together it makes up a wholesome synthesizing of the new with the old.
True to the character of Jesus himself, who wasn’t afraid to blend opposites. He combined the traits of a “dove with a serpent,” seeing in them sharp-mindedness and soft-heartedness. Like sewing a new patch on an old pair of Levi’s. Or trying to pour new wine into a brittle goatskin. His point is unmistakable: the old is an unfit vessel for holding the new.
It’s important to see here that Matthew doesn't juxtapose the new and the old, as if the audience could pick or choose between them. It’s not a matter of choice, but reality. It’s the way life is. So he weaves the two together in such a way that neither new nor old can stand without the other. Remove the old and Matthew's Gospel loses something. But without the new, it's like ending the scriptures with the Book of Ecclesiastes, never reading the Gospel of John.
The gospel is a story of something new, birthed from something old. So it’s not surprising they were constantly clashing with each other. It’s OK with patches and wineskins, but when you try to move from the scriptures to the life of the church here and now, you know and I know, the relationship between the new and the old continues to be a battleground. Like sunshine and rain, the tension is forever with us. A word about each this morning. Some of us inherently lean towards one to the exclusion of the other. After 40 years in Baptist churches across this country, I’ve seen it infect our relationships, taint our communication, and gridlock our mission. It’s a problem in every church in every place. And it’s here.
On one hand, there is "innovation-phobia." An in-built resistance to change, annoyed by the new or different. You can see it when people cling to translations they can't pronounce, or prompting petty disputes about a way of understanding something that used to be settled. I’ve had people get madder at me for saying “There is no devil,” than “not believing in Jesus.” I don’t know what you make of that, but you can depend on it. It’s always there. Xenophobics are put-out about the shift in the order of anything, seemingly fixed. You know what I'm talking about. If something’s been done “this way” forever, it ought to keep on being done that way forever. And the sad thing is, it mostly revolves around little things, that seem so insignificant when you look back.
Mountains from molehills, but tremendous stress on a church. Jesus called it “straining at a gnat, while swallowing a camel.” Or “pulling a speck out of a neighbor’s eye with logs hanging out of yours.” It manifests itself in fear; fear of acknowledging that our contemporary experience demands that we reconsider from time to time what it means when the Bible says "God shows no partiality" (Acts 10:34). The problem with "Innovation-phobics” is it denies reality. And takes a dim view of things-new that constantly appear in the treasure of the household, preferring to live safely with the old. It sees little value in the new and views it as a threat to be opposed. That’s one side of the picture.
The other side is "tradition-phobia." Fear of the old. Negative experiences in church, has caused a lot of church drop-outs. If you speak of God as masculine, it’s seen as a patriarchal discounting of women. Or creating these follow-the-bouncing-ball-microphone-swallowing-songettes, that nobody knows the tune or the words, even when it’s on a giant screen! Anti-traditionalists reinvent the faith with no constants to guide; fearful that the past might exert some constraints on the present. I guess all of us fall, according to personality and disposition, somewhere along the compendium between these two poles.
The Discovery channel, recently told the story of Galileo, who followed Copernicus in substantiating evidence of a helio-centric universe. The Aristotelian geo-centric model, had stood for 1500 years. Any time something that’s been around that long is challenged, you can bet there’ll be dire repercussions. The truth hurts, especially when its more accurate. But the church resisted this and almost every other new idea, believing it upset the theological underpinnings of the creation story. Galileo nearly got burned at the stake when he published his findings. It is a graphic and sad moment in religious history, how the church has been and still is in some spots, a hindrance to change, progress, adapting to the new. Even though something better speaks for itself.
If you’re one or the other, I have good news for us about this matter. Jesus is our Savior in this thorny problem of relating the old and the new. “Every scribe trained for God’s kingdom is like the master of a household, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” For both of our phobias, the Gospel is a treasure but also a problem. On one side, it becomes something to be admired like a museum piece, protected from any possible invasion from imperfect human hands or new interpretation. Infallible. Inerrant. God said it, I believe it, that settles it! On the other, it’s as ephemeral as the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks! Pleasant. Serviceable. But incapable of enlivening either individual or community. So I keep coming back to our text in Matthew’s Gospel, because these extremes must be balanced for church to work.
Not every new wind is a hurricane, that’ll shake the church's foundations and everything that's sacred or holy. Neither is every stone in the foundation of our religious faith the makings of a stockade. Both the new and the old belong in the householder's treasure. Both the new and the old can serve the church well--as long as it's neither one nor the other to the exclusion of each. Both the new and the old may be a valid reflection the Gospel, but only when they’re held together.
"Fiddler on the Roof," comes to mind as a good illustration of a story about a man caught in the turbulence of 19th century Russia. Life was changing, as it always is, but fast. When that happens, we long for “the way it used to be.” But the only sure thing you can say about tomorrow: it’ll be different from today. So Tevye sings the popular song: "Tradition." First one daughter wants to marry without the village matchmaker. OK. But then the second one wants to pick her own mate. This time he thinks long and hard, but finally relents. But can’t help wondering what's happening to the old way of life. So when the baby daughter falls in love with a Communist, Tevye digs in his heels. Not this time! Consequently, he disowns his daughter in favor of his tradition. Is the “way” something is done, that important? Yeah, for some people it is. More important than family or church family.
That was in the twenties. Now his society seems like light years from ours, as to having to adjust to the speed of change. Which only intensifies the tensions. Families continue to divide; churches split; “wars and rumors of wars” continue and nobody wins -- even when you win. There are a lot of people in religious and political life out there today like the fiddler on the roof: struggling fiercely to maintain the old ways. It was something Jesus faced too. And the truth is, some of the old ought to be done away with. Because anything can be improved. A cell phone is better than a land line. A TV is better than a radio. A car is better than a horse...and a motorbike is better than all of ‘em!
But. Just because something’s new, doesn't make it better. Every new thing must be tested in light of the old, as life naturally evolves. Hopefully our changes bring about progress not impediments. That means if a community or family unit, or church is going to stay together, without pulling apart, let’s be a little more patient with one another, try to be understanding, even though we don’t understand.
May God give us more rabbi’s like Gamaliel, whose common sense spared the infant church: “If this new movement is not of God, it will die out. But if it is of God, nothing we can do will stop it.” This is normative to all relationships. We can’t stop it. All we can do is manage ourselves.
In the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” Tula’s brother advised on her wedding day: “Don’t let your past keep you from the present. And don’t let the present rob you of your past.” Matthew would concur: "The kingdom of God is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure, what is new and what is old."
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