Risky Business
Fourth Sunday of Easter
One of the most indispensable skills for success in the world of business is the capacity to acutely judge and, when necessary, do whatever it takes to mitigate risk. Most successful business people will say that while a lot of success comes down to shrewd dealings and careful planning, the “edge” comes from a knack for backing away from the table when things aren’t going one’s way. In fact, there is a slang phrase found in many aspects of life, such as interpersonal relationships and even sports, that conveys this sort of approach. To “make a business decision” is to assess a situation and determine that the potential for a negative outcome far outweighs the potential for benefit, and thus back down, pull funds, “ghost” a person, and so on. It is a self-preservation tactic, and though it may seem easy to see ways that this might be a selfish attitude and might make things like human connection difficult, this kind of behavior is often accepted if not outright applauded in board-rooms and on television broadcasts. Folks may not be especially proud of it, but it seems that one can get a long way in life harnessing the ability to, and—critically—see no harm in choosing to take off when things begin to have a bleak outlook.
Of course, this supposed skill fits squarely within the Wisdom of the World, making sense primarily within the contrived systems, social arrangements and institutions that find themselves at home in the realm of those seeking their own gain and glory. But this is a decidedly inhuman approach to life. In fact, it is not uncommon for those making such “business decisions” to feel a little bit less human in the process. Many of us have been brought up in the school of the decision making matrix and opportunity costs, often fighting our instincts. Yet, these lessons are still compelling because of the promise of attainable success, the hope that we might “fit in” to the patterns of the world. You see, this learned skill deals with realities that are measurable, accountable, marketable, and, perhaps most importantly, commercial.
What, then, is the alternative? Each of this week’s readings reveal a part of this alternative True Wisdom fully realized in Christ. In the reading from the book of Acts, it is quite clear who has had much success in the eyes of the world. The rulers, elders, and scribes, whose titles alone seem to convey what we need to know about their decision-making acumen, ask a question that they hope will return everything to structured order. Instead, Peter replies in a way that is nonsensical in the framework of these leaders. Of course, it is only by the Holy Spirit that he is able to proclaim so boldly that, in fact, it has been the leaders’ choice to reject the eventual cornerstone that has put them at odds with what God is doing in the world. This should be no surprise to us; that cornerstone is the key piece in the construction of a Kingdom that is decidedly “other” than what structures in which these leaders have found themselves most comfortable.
Directly following this reading, the leaders will begin to deliberate among themselves what they are going to do with these men. The very next verses are a prime example of those who have been trained up in the practices of weighing options, hedging bets, and refusing to be surprised. In the face of the invitation Peter offers these leaders to a life beyond the need for “business decisions,” the leaders still choose to trust their ingrained knowledge, clinging to an “escape route” mentality, relying on good sense and the wisdom that anything can be decided with enough deliberation.
The epistle reading is built around a humbling question: “How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” This is more than just a call to social justice (though it is that). This is a question of allegiance, of stability, of commitment, and of diligence. In the same way one cannot serve both God and Mammon, the epistle writer makes it clear that abiding in God’s love (and being a place for God’s love to abide) necessarily means being willing and capable to extend ourselves beyond the sort of transactional relationships we have inherited in our context. Again, this means both unlearning world-wise patterns and devoting ourselves to learning to live another way. It seems that the epistle writer knows that this will be a radically different way of being in the world.
Those who undertake this training in the ways of the Kingdom will have to learn as if for the first time, as “little children.” Folks who have been formed by the systems and lessons of the world will be like babbling children trying to speak the language of love in action and Truth. The author places these in opposition to word and speech not because they are exclusive, but because those who have mastered love in word and speech are those for whom love is a means to an end, a calculated decision entered into and left from by convenience and practicality. Love in action is love that has no escape plan. It is continually shaped and formed by practice, which is only possible when one knows that the other is not going anywhere. Many who have gone before us in the faith know that love looks profoundly different when it is practiced in the context of a commitment to a shared life. When placed against the supposed wisdom of “business decision” love, the difference could not be more clear. Love in action is love that cannot be persuaded that there is an opportunity cost to love.
This is love in action. But what of love in Truth? We come to the gospel text this week. It is no surprise that Jesus will be the clear exemplar of love in both action and truth, but a closer look at what that means is worth some attention. It seems the key to love in Truth lies in what Jesus does NOT say in this text. So far we have been framing the difference between world wisdom and Kingdom wisdom based on whether one decides to leave and abandon each other when their economic or social utility runs out, or decide to stay because of commitments made and obligations agreed upon. But what if the idea of decision making is itself something we take for granted? This seems to be the case in Jesus’ message in this text. Love in truth, modeled by Jesus here, means that there is never a decision to be made at all. That is to say, love in this Kingdom reality is so foundational, so intertwined with our full humanity, so compelled by the Holy Spirit, that before there is any decision to make or options to weigh, the Truth of who we are and who we are becoming guides our being in a world not built for love.
When Jesus describes himself as the good shepherd, there is never a sense that he is ever driven to decide to care for his sheep. It is, in fact, fundamental to who the shepherd is. The shepherd would cease to be the shepherd if he were to make a “business decision” about the flock. No, the kind of love Jesus exhibits for us looks more like belonging than it does deciding. In fact, Jesus’ words seem to communicate that this kind of love will inevitably lead to eventual pain, suffering, and death. Knowing this, those brought up in the wisdom of the world would already see the scales tipped way out of proportion, and will have already made the defensible choice to self-preserve and cut their losses. But not so for the good shepherd. His power, paradoxically, comes from AND enables powerlessness to self-preserve. There will be no decision made because there is no decision to be made. The shepherd will lay down his life, and it will not be taken from him. Such power can only come from God, and such power is not unfamiliar to those who have been listening to God all along. Despite God’s people’s insistence on maintaining the right to make business decisions when they feel threatened, God has always proclaimed love in Truth: “You will be my people and I will be your God.” From the place of divine love, there is no decision to be made.
Friends, while such a love is certainly not easy to find, and even harder to practice, I am convinced that we know it when we see it. The thing about love in Truth is that it cannot be well hidden. It leaves an indelible mark upon all who come into contact with it. Relationships have a radically different capacity when entered into with the sort of love that is not bound by whims and calculated assumptions. So let us go into the world with an eye for those who have undergone the intense work of being formed by a love unfamiliar to the structures of the world around us. Let us continue to be shaped and formed by the Good Shepherd first, and then practice, as little children do, this radical way of being in the world, shepherding with those who have seen, too, that to inhabit the Kingdom of God, and to be ourselves there, is not to self-preserve, but to love in Truth.