Hosea

 Grace Episcopal Church, Newton    The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    Hosea 1:2-10    Luke 11:1-13

            I must confess to you that I am particularly fond of the prophets. Hosea was one of the minor prophets living in his hometown in the northern kingdom of Israel around 750 BC. At that time, the country was divided into two kingdoms; the northern one was called Israel, and the southern one was called Judah. Both kingdoms were ruled by various kings; and their people often resorted to a culture of violence and social upheaval as they “anxiously searched for kings and allies who would save them from the dangers that threatened their national existence.” (HCSB, 1329-30)

Hosea accused his people of being unfaithful in both their religious and political lives. They did not trust God and began to worship any cultural god that promised them prosperity, good weather, and fertility. (HCSB intro) They forgot about their God who had liberated them from slavery and replaced their God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob with the worship of local deities or their royal rulers.

Living in a country of virtual anarchy, the Israelites saw four of their kings assassinated within 14 years. After a foreign invasion by Assyria (current day Iran), they were ruled by the king in Assyria. Imagine Hosea living in Ukraine today. Imagine Hosea living in Israel or Gaza today. Imagine Hosea living in our own country during the Civil War, or maybe even today. Would Hosea accuse us of being unfaithful in our religious and political lives? Would Hosea accuse us of looking for a cultural god or a human ruler to be our savior?

They say a picture is worth a thousand words; and so Hosea used the metaphor of whoredom, portraying God as the aggrieved husband of a faithless wife. He believed that God had told him to marry a prostitute named Gomer. “So Hosea, being a faithful man, did as he was told,” wrote Barbara Brown Taylor. “He went down to the local brothel and asked to meet some of the women who worked there.” (Gospel Medicine, pp55-62)

“The madam was glad to oblige him, thinking she was about to get herself a new customer, but when Hosea proposed to Gomer right there in the perfumed parlor and Gomer said yes, the madam threw them both out onto the street. (Back at home with Hosea) Gomer bore three children in short order - two boys and a girl.” (Gospel Medicine)

 It was God who told Hosea to name his children. The oldest boy was called Jezreel, which was the name of the town where God had promised to put an end to Israel. The middle child, who was a girl, was named Not Pitied, because God was saying that God would no longer have pity on them nor forgive them. Finally, the baby boy got the worst name of all: Not My People because God would no longer be their God. (Hosea 1:2-11)

While Gomer spent nights away from her family with multiple partners, Hosea remained at home, faithfully cooking and cleaning, and waiting for his unfaithful wife to come home. “Look, this is who you are,” Hosea told the Israelites. “You are whores and adulterers, infidels who have broken your covenant with God. And God is angry, roaring like a lion, begging for God’s people to come home.” (Hosea 11)

Prophets are known to turn up the heat in the lives of God’s people. They are known for presumably speaking the truth to power, in faithful obedience to God’s call, no matter the cost to their personal lives. A prophet will describe the realities of what he or she sees going on in the people’s lives and encourage people to change their behavior. Like people who stand at various parts of an elephant, prophets will see our world, our problems, and our solutions differently, and yet they still point to the elephant in the room! Unfortunately, the Israelites had repeatedly broken their promises to God, and Hosea, among other major and minor prophets, was now calling them out.

 Infidelity never starts with the physical aspects of love. We stop going to our meetings, our churches, our synagogues, or our mosques. We start listening to the wrong voices and believe in the wrong things. Our spirits start moving away from God, and our God-centered world slowly becomes a self-centered world. Even in theocracies and democracies too much ego means “easing God out" of our lives. We become haters rather than lovers. We think violence is the answer; and we forget that diplomacy involves persistence.

Our minds wander; and we begin to think we’ve made a mistake, or that “they” are a mistake. There must be a better partner, a more powerful king, a wiser president, a more pure and perfect union or nation, who can save us from ourselves and be the answer to all our problems.

“Apparently, Gomer didn’t change her ways after leaving the brothel and marrying Hosea. Time and time again she would leave the house and go to other lovers who would make promises they couldn’t keep. Then knowing the character of her husband, she would return home to him, sorry and promising him that she would never be unfaithful to him again.” (Gospel Medicine)  Like people caught in the grip of an addiction, she couldn’t stay clean for very long before her old behaviors crept back in. It was as if the Israelites had begun going to the local bar looking for spirits rather than staying in their Temple and remaining faithful to the Spirit of God. 

“It had happened over and over again, until Gomer’s heart was running on empty. He had entered into a covenant with her. He had promised himself to her forever and it was a promise he meant to keep. What would it take, to get her attention, to change her ways? Should he shake her until she came to her senses? Should he lock her in her room? Or should he divorce her and send her packing, before she had the chance to shame him again?” asked Barbara Brown Taylor (Gospel Medicine pp 56-7)

Hosea didn’t wallow in the  self-pity of victimhood, however; nor did he succumb to the temptation of domestic violence. Hosea went after Gomer not to stalk her, or kill her, beat her or shame her, but rather Hosea brought her back into his life to forgive her and love her once again. Grace may be free but it’s not cheap.

Hosea claimed that God is different from our political and religious leaders. Indeed, God is different from all of humanity, different from every single one of us; for God is a god of divine compassion, forgiveness, and unrelenting mercy. God will never let us go, despite our infidelity; for our God is eternally faithful to God’s covenant, even to the point of death upon the cross.

At the heart of Hosea’s preaching is a gospel message of redeeming love. No matter what we do or what we have done, God will never forsake us nor abandon us. In the end, God will not only seek us out in all the wrong places but also bring us home and restore us to new life.

Hosea reminded the Israelites of what God had done for them. “I have been the Lord your God ever since the land of Egypt; you know no God but me and besides me there is no savior.” (Hosea 13.4) Fortunately for us God’s love is stubborn, persistent, and faithful, like the friend who bangs on our door in the middle of the night asking for some loaves of bread. Ask, search, knock and God will give us good things, St. Luke had proclaimed.

According to Hosea, God seals the covenant once again when God changes the names of Gomer’s children. Jezreel shall no longer mean the place of destruction. It shall mean ‘God sows.’ Henceforth, Not Pitied shall be known as ‘I will Have Pity’, and Not My People shall become ‘You Are My People, Children of the Living God,’ prophesied Hosea.

Like the Israelites, in times of social, political, and economic instability, we may disavow our trust in the Lord. And yet, Hosea saw beyond the infidelity of the Israelites to the compassion of our God. In the end, he proclaimed that God would restore God’s people through a new covenant.

Centuries after Hosea, God sent God’s people a new prophet, a new priest, and a new king who would govern God’s people and save them; for Jesus stretched out his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of God’s saving embrace. And so today, we pray once again, as Jesus taught us, “Forgive us of our sins, and do not bring us to the time of trial.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Martha and Mary

 

Martha and Mary        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling             Christ Church Needham

 

But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; *
I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever.

Today's gospel passage from Luke reminds me of my family. I have four grandchildren, three of whom live in Minnesota. Peter and Nathaniel are not identical 6 year old twins and they are truly not identical in so many ways. Peter is a mover and shaker who also loves to draw. Nathaniel is quieter, a child who loves to explore God’s creation like a scientist. Spiritually, Peter is an evangelist like St. Luke; Nathaniel is a monk. Meanwhile, their 3 year old sister named Lili has accumulated the traits and behaviors of both of them while maintaining her own unique style and character. She’ll probably run for political office someday!

Martha is like Peter. She is busy in the kitchen with no air conditioning, slaving over a hot stove in the middle of the summer, preparing for a visit from Jesus. Like someone with ADHD, she is distracted by many things. She wants to welcome Jesus into her home and feeding him physically is important to her. Meanwhile, her sister Mary is like Nathaniel. She is sitting on the floor, with a long cool drink in her hand, and listening carefully to what Jesus has to say.

Part of the blessing of the summer days in this part of our country is the abundance of fresh summer fruit that becomes available locally. I always look forward to the ‘east coast strawberries’ that appear in Friends supermarket on Cape Cod. And then there are those tiny little Maine blueberries that seem to have a slightly different flavor than their bigger siblings. Easily popped into my mouth, I let my blender take the summer off from making those mid-winter smoothies.

“This is what the Lord God showed Amos-- a basket of summer fruit. He said, "Amos, what do you see?" And I said, "A basket of summer fruit." Now Amos was an 8th century BC prophet who lived in the northern kingdom of Israel, which was divided from the southern kingdom of Judah. He who was saying that the Lord God showed him this basket before God launched into all the doom and gloom that was about to befall his people. Amos was not painting a very pretty picture for the future of his people. This was not a good news prophecy.

Amos claimed that the end was about to come for the people in the kingdom of Israel. There will be wailings of grief instead of songs of joy in their temple. Dead bodies shall be many. On that day the sun will go down at noon and darken the earth like a full solar eclipse. God will turn their feasts into mourning and there will be famines, droughts, and lamentations throughout the land. It sounds like Israel on October 7 2024 to me.

Apparently, the people in Israel, the northern part of the kingdom at that time, had been busy, like Martha, but busy with all the wrong activities. They had trampled on the needy and brought ruin to the poor in their land. And so, God showed Amos a basket of summer fruit which was about to become like mine when I leave it sitting on the counter in the humid heat for too long. The mold appears. The fruit goes bad; and the garbage disposal becomes its destination.

I find it also interesting that the psalmist in today’s lesson refers to himself like “a green olive tree in the house of God.” Here’s another image taken from creation; and yet in this one the fruit remains on the tree. It has not yet been picked. It’s still green, not yet ripe, and not ready for consumption. And so, I wonder, is Martha like the basket of summer fruit wilting in her busyness, while Mary is like the green olive tree sitting at the foot of Jesus? Is she still connected to the living tree of the Son of God?

 Last week, we heard Jesus tell a parable about the Good Samaritan, the man who was moved by pity to stop and care for a wounded stranger lying on the side of the road. According to the story, neither a priest nor a Levite stopped, but Jesus didn’t tell us why. Now the road to Jericho was known for its robbers, and maybe they thought he was a decoy for those lying in wait. Or maybe, like Martha, they were simply distracted by their “to do” lists.  Too busy with her own life to care for the life of another or to listen to God.

 I imagine Martha walking with her head down, in deep thought about how to provide properly for her guest. Maybe she was looking down at her cell phone for the latest news, or a new recipe, and blind to the needs of those around her. In a rush to get to what she needed to do for her future guest she wasn’t paying attention to the people in her current life.

Was Jesus accusing Martha of being unfaithful, rebuking her for her busyness? What does Jesus mean when he said that her sister Mary had chosen the better part? Like whiplash, the gospel stories from last week and this week encourage us to behave in two very different ways. “So, which is it?” I ask myself. “Am I supposed to “get up and do something” or “sit and listen?”  Am I ripe for picking or am I past my due date? And which, exactly, is the better part?

I must confess that I have a lot of Marthas in our family. As busy beavers, we multitask to get the job done. When Jesus says, “Get up and go,” we can’t get going fast enough, that is, until we begin to feel resentful about the loads that we are carrying without any help. Turning to Jesus, and pointing to a family member, we will say, “Please tell him to get up and help me.’ However, in today’s passage, Jesus doesn’t tell Mary to get up and get going; but rather he tells Martha to come out of the kitchen and sit down. Spend some time with him. “Sit down and listen to me for a little while,” he says to her.

I can relate to both Mary and Martha. When worried and distracted, I am reminded to be like Mary, to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen. When I find myself demanding help from others, or when the kitchen gets too hot, I tell myself to go to another room, sit down for a little while to listen and pray. I turn to the serenity prayer, to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Initially, people may think that Jesus was saying that Mary is the better disciple, and yet this is not true. Rather Jesus is saying that everyone is called to be his disciple, and our discipleship will take many forms. It is not an either/or engagement - a “pots and pans Martha” versus a “googly-eyed listening Mary.”

Our society and culture, indeed many of our families, will encourage us to stay busy. They say that being “idle” is the devil’s playground. And faith without works is dead. At times, we may even feel unworthy if we aren’t helping the poor and the needy, like good Samaritans. Our value then becomes defined not by who we are, beloved and unique children of God, a big, beautiful basket of summer fruit, but rather by what we do. And when we see people just sitting there, or taking handouts at our own expense, it fuels our resentments.

When our busyness becomes a burden and we start making demands of others, Jesus invites us to sit down for a little while, and listen to the voice of the Spirit. Jesus wants us to know that we are like a basket of summer fruit, diverse, unique, and beautiful in the eyes of God. We are containers that can receive the love of God and the fruits of the Spirit, so that we might also share those gifts with others as good Samaritans.

There is a well known story about a man who seeks advice from a wise man. The tale goes like this: A well-educated, scholarly man approached a Zen Master, seeking the secrets of enlightenment. The man boasted about his extensive knowledge of the scriptures and the many practices he had mastered over the years.

Eager to share his wisdom, the Zen Master offered to serve tea. The Master began pouring tea into the man’s cup, but even after the cup was full, he continued to pour. The tea overflowed, spilling onto the tray, the table, and the floor. The scholar exclaimed, “Master! The cup is full! No more will go in!”

The Zen Master replied, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

Before we get up and go, and be like good Samaritans or like busy Marthas, Jesus invites us to let our cups be filled first. Today, just for a little while, be like Mary. Stay connected to the Tree of Life. Sit down and listen to what the Spirit is saying to you. And then go and do something, even a small act of kindness. Get back in that hot kitchen and be like Martha. And do not worry. Jesus will be with you on your journey.

 Amos 8:1-12        Psalm 52        Colossians 1:15-28        Luke 10:38-42

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foxhole Companions

Christ Episcopal Church, Needham, Massachusetts            The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling      
Colossians 1:1-14            Luke 10:25-37

          My husband Paul occasionally comments on people. He says, “That’s the type of person you want to have next to you in a foxhole if you find yourself in a battle.” This person is one who will hunker down with you, when you find yourself in a war, surrounded by the enemy, with bombs dropping, sirens wailing, bullets flying, and your life is on the line. Terrified, perhaps even critically wounded, you see no means of escape, and you long desperately for a miracle. You pray that someone would save you from the pain, terror, and what appears to be your imminent death.

          Perhaps wounded, trapped, or just unable to move because of your fear, you are amazed that the person next to you, perhaps your best buddy or a total stranger, maybe even an emergency responder, appears by your side. This person, for whatever reason, has chosen to stay with you, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, until death do you part or at least until the danger passes.

          It is no surprise to me that my husband Paul often uses such language to describe certain people; for when he has been “under fire” in school, at work, or at home (I confess that I can “fire away” with the best of them), he feels as if life is a war. You know what I mean - you envision a long and happy life in one place, one job, one relationship, and suddenly something changes. You send your child off to camp and she never returns. Life is no longer a bed of roses. Your “happy place or person” is gone.

 Perhaps we’ve grown accustomed to our safe little foxholes when the unexpected happens: a new diagnosis, a peaceful protest turns violent, an accident takes a life, a flood causes mortal injuries, and someone we love suddenly dies. We feel violated. We feel like victims. And we look for someone or something to blame.

The effects of our lifelong battles are not always obvious. Worries about money, health, and our family members can drain us just as quickly as any physical wound. Indeed, we don’t need to live in another country to know the reality of violence on our streets or in our homes. And so, we hunker down and isolate ourselves from our own communities. It’s safer, we say to ourselves, to just stay at home.

Jesus was a foxhole person. When the lawyer asked him what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus answered in true rabbinic fashion. He asked him a question. “What is written in our law? What do you read there?” Well-educated in his religious upbringing, the lawyer responded correctly with one big, beautiful answer. Obey the first two commandments. That is, love God with every part of your being: your heart, soul, strength, and mind. And while you’re at it, love your neighbor the same way you love yourself.

Sidestepping the obvious challenge about how we actually love God, our selves, and our neighbors the lawyer tested Jesus once again. Like a journalist at a white house press conference, he asked another question. Who is his neighbor? He wanted to know because he wanted to get it right. Or maybe he just wanted to test Jesus with a gotcha kind of question.  Which, to my mind, begs more questions. Who is my neighbor? Is it the person in the pew next to you? The homeless person on the street begging for food, money, or drugs? Is it the political extremist on your far right or far left? Is it anyone who isn’t just like you?

Jesus was asking the lawyer if he would be a good foxhole companion. He wanted to know if he would run away to protect his own life, or would he hunker down, valiantly fighting the enemy of life and love for the sake of others? For the love of God and for the love of country, would he fight for what is right, good, and true? Would she help a stranger while risking her own personal safety, showing up to volunteer in the flood waters of Texas?

That lawyer’s one simple question begs more questions. Will we help those who have been wounded, beaten, and robbed of their human dignity, for their right to live and love as they do? Will we engage in respectful dialogue, honoring the choices of others even if they are different from our own. Will we be brave angels and foxhole companions? Or like the priest and the Levite, will we just walk on by?

As told in an internet joke, a Sunday School teacher was telling the story of the Good Samaritan to her class of 4- and 5-year-olds. She was making it as vivid as possible to keep the children interested in her tale. At one point, she asked the class, "If you saw a person lying on the roadside all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?" A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence and said "I think I'd throw up."

Honestly, I would probably avert my gaze, maybe even feign interest in another direction. I might possibly break into a run or do an about face. Maybe I would retreat to a safer place. No good Samaritan here confesses this priest on this Sunday morning in Needham. I might just walk on by.

Perhaps you are aware of the animosity between the Jews and the Samaritans during this time in history. In fact, oftentimes, they would eschew each other’s territories for the sake of their personal safety. Imagine today how a Jewish person might feel living in Iran or Gaza? Or conversely, a Palestinian living in Israel? How might our young people feel about walking on a college campus where anti-semitic words and actions are prevalent? Where protests or simple large gatherings of people can turn dangerous?

The point of Jesus’ parable about the Good Samaritan is pointing not only to the reality of our human choices, when faced with the people we hate or fear, but Jesus also wanted to redirect our vision to God. If we are to love God, our neighbors, and ourselves, indeed even our enemies, then we will not only fight for justice, but we will also show mercy. There is a wideness to God’s mercy that is often beyond our human reach when we are faced with war and hate, when we are faced with political vitriol and violence.

In Ladder to the Light, Steven Charleston writes about a vision he once had:

I saw an older man standing alone by the side of the road. He kept looking down that road as if he was expecting a bus, but no bus stopped there. When I mentioned that to him, he said that he was not waiting for a bus. He was waiting for a parade. He had heard that if you wait long enough, the parade would come back down your street. He had missed it before, and he did not want to miss it again. I looked at him. He was different from me. Different color. Different religion. He looked a little grubby and he had an accent, but I decided it didn’t matter. He was a person. I was a person. He needed a parade. I needed a parade. He had hope. I had hope. So, I waited beside him, looking down the street in the same direction; and the minute I did, we both heard music in the distance.” (Xian Century, July 2025, p24)

As they say in the trenches, there are no atheists in the foxholes. As Christians we can claim that Jesus is in the foxhole with us. We can show justice and mercy by standing by someone’s side, literally or figuratively, in our words and in our actions, in our thoughts and in our prayers. We can remind someone that they are not alone.

In truth, we are never alone; for Jesus promised that He would send His Holy Spirit to accompany us. Held securely in the palm of God’s hand, we can trust that this Spirit will provide for us and protect us. Whether we’re in the thick of battle or experiencing a temporary cease-fire, we believe that the war is over and that our victory has been won.

For Jesus stretched out his own arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of his saving embrace. As our own good Samaritan and a faithful Jew, Jesus will carry us to the inn, where God has many rooms. He has paid the price of our salvation with his own sacrificial love. We have inherited eternal life through Him.

Until then, as St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Colossians, “May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. God has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

 Through Jesus we can also fight for justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with our God. We too can be foxhole companions. Amen.