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Elisha went up from there to Bethel;
and while he was going up on the way,
some small boys came out of the city
and jeered at him,
saying,
“Go away, baldhead! Go away, baldhead!”
When he turned around and saw them,
he cursed them in the name of the Lord.
Then two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the boys.
From there he went on to Mount Carmel,
and then returned to Samaria.
- 2 Kings 2:23-25
I guess it was about 18 years ago, now.
I was in seminary and we had a required workshop about reading scripture in public.
The workshop started promptly at 8:00 on a Saturday morning, which, back then, we considered to be very early.
Our first task as the student body was to (each of us) dig up a piece of scripture that we’d like to make our reading for the day, the one reading that we would practice telling or reciting in different ways and with different emphases on different words.
Without much thought, I knew which reading I would choose. And I quickly claimed the one that I just read today before, as I started this sermon:
The new prophet Elisha being taunted by a crowd of children,
and then cursing them,
and (it seems) commanding she-bears to come out of the woods and to maul 42 of them.
+++
After some time,
Maury Neadenthal,
the instructor who taught this particular class,
then presented a question.
“Why did you choose the reading that you chose?”
he asked all of us.
Why did you pick that one?
+++
As he made his way around the room,
my fellow students shared testimonies about the importance of their particular texts,
or examples of how the story they picked had shaped their call to ministry
or the way they thought about the world.
Some of these stories had changed lives! Had changed their lives!
One by one, sincere, thoughtful, and intelligent answers filled that classroom space.
One by one we were moved by each other’s stories about scripture.
However,
when Maury made his way around the room
and got to me,
and asked me the same:
“Why did you pick this one?”
All I really had to offer, was,
“Well… ummm… [sir… ummm… well...] I thought it was kind of funny.”
+++
See, 2 Kings 22 is just one of those verses seminarians like to sometimes lift up (along with the streaker at Jesus crucifixion in Mark 14) to say, look: there are some pretty comedic and outrageous things in here.
[LIFT UP BIBLE]
There’s a lot of humor. So - you know - let’s not always take ourselves too seriously. Right? Let’s not always take ourselves too seriously.
This text is one we like to lift up to lighten things up a bit.
+++
When I answered, some in the class giggled.
But Maury remained silent.
“It’s funny?” he finally asked.
“If you asked me, I’d say that this piece of scripture isn’t funny, but rather that it is about an abuse of power.”
+++
My heart dropped.
Embarrassed, I started sweating from just above my temples and from my palms. And I sort of looked downward.
Because he was right.
Since the first time I was ever shown this story, it was read as a macabre joke, followed almost always by a classroom full of giggles.
But Maury…
Somehow, Maury knew better.
And after his brief 19 words on the topic,
suddenly so did we.
I, for one, would never be able to read this text in the same way ever again.
I couldn’t!
It was no longer about cranky, bald-head Elisha, but about the boys whose lives were cut short.
It wasn’t funny.
Rather, the story was severe.
+++
Quite often, siblings in Christ, we cover potentially uncomfortable topics and situations in our lives
with humor or giggles.
For example, think of how youth and adults make jokes about bathrooms and about sexualities.
And it’s not just humor that we use to do this.
Sometimes, instead, we cover similar discomforts with trite explanations:
“It must’ve been for a reason,” we say in the face of a tragedy,
or,
“Something good will come of this…”
without - you know - actually knowing if that’ll ever be the case.
There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with these things (of course). In fact, it seems we are wired to do these kinds of things. It’s even important. It’s part of how, as humans, we cope and deal with tragedy. It’s how we heal a lot of the time.
We cover up pain with explanations and jokes and words. And they work as bandages. They help us to heal until we can go it on on our own once again.
The problem, of course,
is when our jokes
or our explanations
or our words inhibit our ability to have compassion, (right?)
when they make it
so that our hearts
are no longer able to perceive an injustice
or a painful situation
that is perhaps on display right in front of us.
The problem is when we see a victim of power’s abuse and explain it away:
“Well, they shouldn’t have been taunting a prophet!”
we might explain.
The problem is when we see a victim of power’s abuse and make a joke:
“I’d hate to have been that guy LOL!” We might giggle.
The problem is when we see a victim of power’s abuse and we are unable to exercise compassion for those who have been hurt or even killed.
That is, this is all a problem for us--
for Christians,
for followers of Jesus.
Because as followers of Jesus,
our primary commandment is about compassion.
We are called to love.
And as disciples, love is our discipline.
Our highest calling is to love - to love our neighbors as God loves us.
Period.
That is what following Christ is all about.
It’s easier, of course, to stand with power.
It’s easier to justify or to explain, to cover with words, right?
It’s easier to say, “Elisha was a prophet!” or
“The men throwing stones at the woman were doing so according to the Law!” or
“The prodigal son deserves all the slop that he gets!”
It’s easy to explain things as they are away,
to not get in power’s way…
It’s easier to do that.
But, we are not called to “easy.”
We are called to walk with Jesus, the crucified one.
Even in the shadow of the cross.
We are called to walk with Christ.
To name the crime of the prophet.
To interrupt the throwing of stones by the righteous religious people.
And to celebrate the restoration of those who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death and returned.
Even if they are still high.
We are called to compassion
and we are called to love those the bible calls “the least of these.”
This isn’t easy.
It’s not even natural.
It’s not intuitive.
But love is a discipline.
And one to which we are called as we are called disciples of Christ.
So,
In these times, when it’s so easy to get out of the way of power
and to cover up tragedies and abuses and difficult situations that evoke difficult emotions
with humor, with laughter, and with other words that justify things
or cause us not to react in any other way...
In this time when it’s easy to write pain off because there is so much of it all around us…
In this time of great tragedy, may God keep our hearts tender. May God enable us to have hearts that help us to perceive the world and everyone around us in every situation with compassion.
And may God send us people to interrupt our laughter with words of truth and love.
For the sake of living out God’s compassion in the world and being God’s Body in Christ to everyone we meet.
Amen.
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