Reading from the First Nations Version of the New Testament this fall reminds me that language arises out of an entire world of meaning. There is no “standard” version of the Bible; all our translations and interpretations are culturally conditioned. It’s illuminating to hear the story of Jesus told from the point of view of a diverse group of indigenous people rather than from the perspective of mostly white academics. How this translation handles names is a good example. The end notes explain, for example, why Jesus is “Creator sets Free.” They write:
“His name in Hebrew is Yeshua. The name comes from two words. The first is Yah, the shortened form … of the Hebrew name for Creator. The second comes from a word that means ‘to rescue, deliver, save, or simply set free.’ The Jewish people in biblical times gave names that had meaning. This is similar to the traditions of our First Nations people, so we decided to follow this practice in the First Nations Version.” (p. 477)
The Pharisees are the “Separated Ones.”
“[They] were the most vocal and influential of the spiritual leaders and held a very strict and oppressive interpretation of the law of Moses. As their name indicates, they separated themselves from those they deemed to be sinners and pressured others to do the same.” “Scroll keepers” are scribes and lawyers. They were also experts in the law and its interpretation since they knew how to read and write. (p. 480)
In the minds of the Separated Ones and the scroll keepers, an “outcast” or “sinner” was anyone who didn’t keep the law of Moses fully—mostly poor, sick and vulnerable people who couldn’t afford to do so. And in Jesus’ time, tax collectors were universally despised in the Jewish community because they collaborated with the Roman oppressors and took cuts for themselves.
Commentators agree that Jesus’ story about the sheep and the shepherd was meant to surprise his hearers. “Who among you would not leave the ninety-nine and search for that lost lamb until you found it?” Pretty much no shepherd of Jesus’ time would have done that. The loss of one sheep out of a hundred would have been insignificant. It would not have been worth the risk to leave the flock as a whole to chase down one little lamb. As with most of Jesus’ parables there’s an important open-endedness here. The shepherd can of course represent God. God’s heart is oriented toward the one who goes missing. God is relentless in reaching toward the outcast, the rejected and persecuted, the refugee. I tend to believe that there’s a part of each one of us that is lost— lonely, confused, wandering, scared, bitter, exhausted, yearning for safety and acceptance. And this parable suggests that it is in these very places of our deepest alienation that God finds us and we find God. So God is the force of love that draws us all continually toward home.
I think Jesus’ story is also addressed to human leaders. He was, after all, speaking to the Pharisees and scribes, in the face of their grumbling about his practices of table fellowship. Which unearths yet another layer to this story– the way it articulates Jesus’ vision of community. I imagine Jesus surrounded by people who mistrusted each other, who struggled to listen to diverse perspectives, or to fully acknowledge each other’s humanity. Jesus’ time, like ours, was one of polarization and political violence. Pharisee versus tax collector. Widow and orphan against scribes. Romans occupiers clashing with rebels and resistors.
The life and death of Charlie Kirk is unfortunately just one example of the escalating spiral of destruction in which we are caught. On the day he was shot there were several other horrific acts of violence in this country. Professor Stacey Patton of Morgan State University, wrote this on her Facebook page:
“His so-called ‘Professor Watchlist,’ run under the umbrella of Turning Point USA, is nothing more than a digital hit list for academics who dare to speak truth to power. [… O]nce my name went up, the harassment machine roared to life. For weeks my inbox and voicemail were deluged. Mostly white men spat venom through the phone […] They threatened all manner of violence. They overwhelmed the university’s PR lines and the president’s office with calls demanding that I be fired. The flood was so relentless that the head of campus security reached out to offer me an escort […] And I am not unique. Kirk’s Watchlist has terrorized legions of professors across this country. Women, Black faculty, queer scholars, basically anyone who challenged white supremacy, gun culture, or Christian nationalism suddenly found themselves targets of coordinated abuse. […] That is the culture of violence Charlie Kirk built. He normalized violence. He curated it, monetized it, and sicced it on anyone who dared to puncture his movement’s lies.”
At a moment like this, we must be able to hold complexity, endorse more than one truth. I stand against pretty much everything Charlie Kirk stood for. I believe that his misuse of his own power and influence caused immense suffering. And at the same time, I will not celebrate his death. I am grieving for all those who loved Charlie Kirk, and especially for his children who lost their father in such a traumatic way. And I am mourning for us all, that we have been witness to the horror of this public execution, and even more that this terrible act is emblematic of the gun violence that tears apart our families and communities every single day in this country.
The community Jesus yearns to create among us crosses all lines of exclusion and hatred, resentment and retaliation. He does not call us to simply rise above these difficult realities or sugar coat them. Our work as Jesus’ followers is to move through this toxicity with a relentless focus on healing and restoration. Seeking out the return of the lost requires that we not be drawn into inflammatory speech or action. Instead we tell the truth in love, and we listen deeply to those with whom we disagree, always seeking to see their humanity.
The First Nations Version of Luke offers the second story in today’s scripture a new spin with a fascinating shift of metaphor. We are used to hearing a story about a woman who lost one of her ten coins. In today’s reading, we meet a man who has misplaced an eagle feather. I knew that eagle feathers are significant to native people but I really didn’t understand why. So I did a little research. I’m sure there are still things I’m still missing or misinterpreting here, so I offer these reflections with humility. Eagle feathers are awarded as a mark of an accomplishment or achievement—to a warrior who has shown bravery in battle, to a person who has served their community in an important way, to a new graduate. Elders are the ones who present eagle feathers. There are feasts held to honor the feathers. Eagle feathers fall from the sky and thus are a sacred gift, a sign of connection to Creator and the spiritual realm.
Because of what the feathers mean, each one deserves honor, each one is irreplaceable. Just like each one of us. This fall, I am focusing a series of sermons on different practices that support us in cultivating a community of belonging. Peter Block’s book, Community continues to greatly influence my thinking. Block points out that as a society, we are obsessed with trying to make the world better by solving problems, assigning blame and punishing fault. He writes: “The interest we have in problems is so intense that at some point we take our identity from those problems.” (p.33) “It is illegal in this culture to leave a meeting without a to-do list. We want measurable outcomes and we want them now. What is hard to grasp is that it is this very mindset which prevents anything fundamental from changing.” (p.81) Block argues that we can shift the entire context out of which we are working. We can reframe things.
One last message I hear in these two stories of Jesus is that we will find what we are looking for. Every member of the community matters, and every member brings irreplaceable gifts. We are incomplete if even one person is missing or pushed to the margins. And a fundamental shift occurs when we apply our energy to seeking out ways to embody that truth. So let’s stop solving problems and start searching high and low for possibilities. Let’s shift our focus from fear and fault In order to explore what we can create with the gifts we each have to offer. Let’s move from gatekeeping and excluding and ignoring to celebrating and feasting and restoring.
Amen.