Written on October 17, 2008

For the Lectionary of October 26, 2008: Matthew 22:34-46

“No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.”

EXPIRATION by Larry Patten

I am the one who goes grocery shopping. My wife does laundry. All things, chore-wise, balance out. (At least, that’s my version.)

One of the tasks when I cruise the supermarket aisles—milk here, yogurt there, which orange juice is on sale—is eye-balling the expiration date. Sometimes an item’s “great deal” conflicts with when it should no longer be eaten. Once I was more cavalier about the date-of-no-return on perishables. But the laundry lady complained.

Grocery guy listened.

Expiration dates can be hard to find. The print is smeared. It seems like a worker at the milk production facility cleverly positioned the date inside the least likely carton corner. But I search. I pay attention.

In today’s scripture, verse 46 of Matthew’s 22 was like an expiration date. Jesus’ time was nearly up. For many of the verses preceding this section there were questions and answers, debates and discussions. Some were a variation of stump-the-chump. The “learned” scribes and Pharisees (much more clever than that nameless worker at the milk carton factory) slipped in questions like: “Which commandment is numero uno, Jesus?” or “By what authority do you do these deeds, Nazarene? We know you’re as sharp as a tack and as bright as the summer sun, so please, enlighten us.”

The questions kept coming. False compliments were smeared like cheap jam on a soda cracker.

Then the questions, so said verse 46, stopped.

I know where the Gospel of Matthew is going with this. And yet I still shuddered.

No more questions. Expiration date. Questions keep faith alive. Stop asking questions and . . .

Early in my ministry I heard about a bishop who regularly visited his (yeah, it was always a “his” in those pre-iPod days) pastors to see how they were doing. Apparently one of his methods for “checking in” with the clergy included examining their personal libraries. He discovered what books they recently purchased or had borrowed to read. Were they only reading material from long ago seminary days or were they alert to changing ideas and times? Other ways of saying it might be, “Do they still have questions?” or “Are the pastors still curious?”

Questions matter. They stop and, in a sense, our faith becomes less a rambunctious journey and more a permanent rest stop.

Although, maybe some death has to happen.

Like the rest of the country we Californians are nearing Election Day. One of our ballot measures is Proposition 8, the so-called “gay marriage” decision. Will California voters support or defeat a proposed law that defines marriage as only between man and woman?

Ah, the proposition is a question!

A friend of mine, weary of Proposition 8 advocates claiming the Bible only supported “traditional marriage,” e-mailed me to ask if the Bible was used in the past to demean or oppress people. After picking myself up from the floor because I was laughing (and crying) so hard, I answered her question.

Of course it has. Since the days of Gutenberg, the printed word has been wielded to hurt, manipulate, and humiliate others. Men are superior to women. Women are property. Women shouldn’t have the right to vote. Slavery is acceptable. The white race is God’s chosen. Homosexuality is a sin. On and on and on. People pick and choose what supports their position, what keeps them in power, what gives every question an answer that is self-serving.

How will we really change?

Predictably, questions can be two-edged swords. Some invite curiosity and empathy, others discourage and demean.

One of my beliefs is that sometimes generations have to die in order for change to authentically occur. In a sense the old and fearful questions literally have to be buried. Of Americans between 17 and 29 years of age, “Forty-four percent said they believed that same-sex couples should be permitted to get married, compared with 28 percent of the public at large,” according to a 2007 New York Times survey. Nearly every survey or poll I’ve read confirms that gap.

And what will a next generation think? And a next?

I read Matthew and believe the Gospel foreshadowed Jesus’ future. No more questions. And less than four chapters later, the ones no longer asking questions would conspire to kill him.

The expiration date was soon.

But the One with living and lively questions was not silenced. The best questions keep changing us.

in Peace,

Larry