Lectionary blog for June 3
The Second Sunday after Pentecost
Deuteronomy 5:12-15; Psalm 81:1-10;
2 Corinthians 4:5-12; Mark 2:23-3:6
“But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).
When I was ordained in the North Carolina Synod, the bishop preached on this text. When he got to the “clay jars,” he said, “Clay jars, earthen vessels. Clay. Earth. My goodness—that means we’re, we’re … CLODS!” All the members of my congregation knew what he meant: lumps of hard, misshapen red clay that had to be tilled and hoed and “busted up” so that the crops and gardens would grow. Being a clod was not an attractive thing.
When Paul wrote this text, he was dealing with a personal problem—people thought he was a bit of a clod, or at least a clod-hopper. People in Corinth were belittling the gospel because it came in such an unimpressive package. Paul was, by various reports, short, bow-legged, bald, near-sighted, ill-tempered, overly educated, and spoke with a funny accent when he preached. Not a likely candidate for any call committee to want to interview.
When Paul says things like “We preach not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord” and “We have this treasure in clay jars” and “This extraordinary power comes from God, not from us,” he is reminding the people in Corinth, and us, to look beyond the ordinary human imperfections of the messenger and listen for the divine voice proclaiming extraordinarily good news.
Just like Paul, we, the church, have this story, this treasure, this good news, this most valuable thing in the world in our possession. And we tote it about in a very ordinary container, a clay jar, an earthen vessel—us.
One of my distant relatives worked for the State Department years ago. He told me once that most days he sent reports to Washington via diplomatic pouch—a locked bag carried by military transport. But for the most important messages, he wrote an ordinary letter, slid it into a plain envelope, put a stamp on it, and had the secretary drop it in the corner mailbox on her way to lunch. What was important and valuable was the letter, not the envelope.
Just like Paul, we, the church, have this story, this treasure, this good news, this most valuable thing in the world in our possession. And we tote it about in a very ordinary container, a clay jar, an earthen vessel—us.
We are plain, white envelopes, clay jars, earthen vessels. We are the tellers of the story, not the story itself. We are the messengers, not the message. The value of the message is not dependent upon the value of the vessel in which it is carried.
We, the church, may be clods, clodhoppers, fractured, incomplete, misshapen and unfertile in the eyes of the world. But that matters not in the eyes of God. Because it really isn’t about us.
The “extraordinary” good news is not about our beautiful building, or our splendid music program, or our nice and energetic youth director, or our wise and witty senior pastor, or, or, or … it’s about God:
“For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Corinthians 4:5).
“But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).
And, as Episcopal Presiding Bishop Michael Curry so ably reminded the world at the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, this extraordinary power that comes from God has a name, it is love. Love is the power of God that moved to Christ to come and save us. Love is the power that sustains the church. Love is the power that pulls seekers to the church. Love is the power that we to carry in our clay jars as we go out to serve a poor, lonely, hurting, world. Love is the power that compels us to preach Christ, to show Christ, to be Christ in the world.
Amen and amen.
