Lectionary Commentaries for March 30, 2025
Fourth Sunday in Lent

At the beginning of this pericope, we find Jesus having a conversation with tax collectors and sinners, and with those of the religious establishment, who are eavesdropping, expressing their unhappiness about the company Jesus is keeping. Jesus wants the scribes and Pharisees to realize that for people of God, there is no such thing as collateral damage. Collateral damage is a war term that refers to

harm done to persons, animals, or things that agents are not morally permitted to target in the conduct of war, as a side effect of attacks on persons, animals, or things that agents are morally permitted to target in the conduct of war.¹

Sometimes during war people, places, things, or animals are killed, injured, or damaged accidentally. They happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though they did not volunteer to engage in battle or in any way consent to participate, nevertheless they became casualties of war. The term “collateral damage” is a way of justifying their demise. If the war itself is necessary and is being waged for a valid reason, collateral damage is an unintended consequence that ultimately serves a worthy and justifiable purpose. However, when people, places, and things are referred to as collateral damage, their intrinsic worth is completely overlooked.

If we adapt the definition of collateral damage to refer to unintended losses that sometimes occur in the everyday struggles of our lives, we can understand the point that Jesus is trying to make. Sometimes people, places, and things in our lives are lost for myriad reasons. The religious establishment in Jesus’ day needed an explanation for sickness and disease. They needed to be able to explain why some people were afflicted while others were not. Characterizing the sick and infirm as sinners and writing them off as collateral damage was a convenient way to explain illness while encouraging the masses to follow every jot and tittle of the law.

Jesus challenges this social practice. The good news of Jesus Christ is that nothing and no one should ever be considered collateral damage. In relation to the parable of the lost sheep, it would have been easy for the shepherd to consider one little lost sheep as collateral damage. It would have been easy to believe that one of the risks of owning and caring for sheep was that one or more of them may be lost for one reason or another. It would have been easy to focus on the health and thriving of the 99 rather than leave the 99 to find the one lost sheep.

But Jesus makes the point that every sheep has value. Every sheep is valued to the extent that their well-being is important enough to warrant a search-and-rescue mission. The mission pays off. The lost sheep is found. The community celebrates the sheep’s return because now the herd is whole.

As it relates to the parable of the lost coin, it would be easy for the woman to write off the lost coin as collateral damage. She could consider losing one of 10 coins as a common occurrence in her busy day-to-day existence. However, money is a gift of God that could be used to support lives that honor God. Even if the loss of one coin was not worth worrying about for her, the money could benefit others who were not fortunate enough to have sufficient monetary resources to meet their daily needs. So, she sweeps and keeps sweeping until she finds the lost coin. She throws a party to celebrate.

The parable of the prodigal son is perhaps the most well-known parable in the biblical text. It has been preached from many different perspectives for many cultural contexts. Like the shepherd in the first parable and the woman in the second, it would be easy for the father in this parable to write off his younger son as collateral damage. After all, he thwarts all of the prevailing social conventions and expectations by requesting his inheritance early and then leaving home and squandering it on “dissolute living.”

The father, who undoubtedly expected his sons to live wholesome and godly lives, could have allowed shame—shame of having a disobedient and wayward son—to prevent him from seeking reconciliation. None of his friends, relatives, or religious leaders would find fault with him if he refused to be associated with his son again.

Instead, he refuses to think of his son as collateral damage. When he sees his son coming down the street, he does not just wait for him to get to the house; he runs to him and kisses him and welcomes him back into the family. He throws a party and celebrates the son’s return.

Sometimes, when interpretations focus on the younger son, the plight of the older son is overlooked. His emotions become collateral damage as the father reconciles with the younger son. The elder son has done everything his father, his religious community, and his culture expects of him. He has been present to make sure the land and household are cared for and run efficiently. He has been the one his father could depend on every day while the younger son was away from home partying. When some people highlight his expressions of frustration and disappointment with not having a fatted calf killed and roasted for him, they characterize the older son as selfish or self-interested.

However, preachers have an opportunity to highlight how emotions can sometimes become collateral damage when we focus attention on one person while ignoring the effects on others. The elder son believes his faithfulness and steadfastness deserve even greater celebration than that which is enjoyed by the younger son. Yet his father attempts to explain that the elder son does not need a celebration because all that the father owns now belongs to him. The father does not seem to understand that while the older son appreciates “stuff,” he craves recognition and acknowledgment that he is the good son. He is the one who has done the right thing. He chose the right path. Perhaps the father does not understand how public recognition is even more important for the elder son than for the younger.

Each of these parables challenges us to revisit the ways we value God’s creation, animals, money, and all of humanity. No one and nothing should be viewed as collateral damage. All of creation is loved and valued by God and should be valued and loved by those who claim to be God’s people.

Notes

1. David Lefkowitz, “Collateral Damage,” War Essays in Political Philosophy, June 5, 2012, https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/war/collateral-damage/5BF26DB6FE40E95DDC16F6A89BE839B0.

The content of this passage and its literary setting highlight two important markers for an Israelite identity. Joshua 5:2–8 speaks about the circumcision of the second generation that was born in the wilderness, while verses 9–12 present the celebration of the Passover by the Israelites in the land of the promise. These two rituals recall the divine covenant with Abraham in Genesis 17, and the Passover is a reminder of the liberation of the Israelites from Pharaoh’s oppression.

Rolling away the reproach of Egypt (Joshua 5:9)

YHWH addresses Joshua, saying that the God of Israel has rolled away the “reproach of Egypt.” Then the narrator adds that the name of the place was Gilgal as a result of this divine action. The verb “to roll out” or “remove” and the noun “Gilgal” share the same Hebrew root. YHWH rolled out (gll) the disgrace or reproach of Egypt. Therefore, this place is now called Gilgal (gilgal). This divine address invites the reader to ponder the meaning of the “disgrace of Egypt.” 

What was YHWH referring to? Some commentators understand this expression to refer to the degradation of the Israelites into forced laborers who were controlled by the Egyptians, as narrated in the book of Exodus. Thus, because this second generation is in the land of the promise, now they are free and are not reproached by the disgrace of enslavement. If this is the meaning of the expression, then the celebration of the Passover (verses 10–12) by the Israelites in the land of the promise stands as a marker for their freedom. 

Yet, there is another meaning for this expression. The verses that precede it describe the divine command and Joshua’s role in circumcising the second generation that was born in the wilderness. Thus, another possible meaning for this phrase refers to being uncircumcised. Even though Egyptians practiced circumcision, some biblical traditions did not consider it to be the appropriate way of circumcision (Jeremiah 9:25–26). Whether the “disgrace of Egypt” refers to the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt or to being uncircumcised, the point of the text is clear that the God of Israel has rolled away this reproach. 

Thus, the identity of the second generation in the land of the promise is constructed over and against Egypt and what Egypt stands for, and it is also constructed over and against the first generation that died in the wilderness because of their disobedience. The people could have objected to the commandment of circumcision, raising the logical point that their enemies would attack them while they were recovering (see Genesis 34). But they trusted in divine protection. Through obedience, the second generation becomes an enactment of what it means to be part of the covenant. Circumcision matters as a sign of the covenant, but obedience to the divine commandment is the only guarantee for the people to enter and remain in the land. As they receive this covenantal relationship as a divine gift enacted by human leadership, their new identity impacts the land as well. The name of the place changes from Gibeath-Haarloth (the hill of the foreskin) to Gilgal (the place where disgrace was rolled away). 

It is crucial to note that the circumcision of the male individuals of the people excludes women from such a ritual. But the book of Deuteronomy spiritualizes the meaning of circumcision to speak of the circumcision of the heart (Deuteronomy 10:16; 30:6; see also Jeremiah 4:4), which is more inclusive than physical circumcision. Furthermore, it is crucial to underline how Egypt continues to be portrayed as a foil for the Israelites to know who they are called to be as a people of YHWH. Such a portrayal needs to be read in its historical context without demonizing Egypt.

Celebrating the Passover in the land of Canaan (Joshua 5:10–12)

According to Exodus 12:43–49, circumcision was a condition for outsiders who were permitted to celebrate the Passover. This might explain why YHWH commanded Joshua to circumcise the second generation that was born in the wilderness. These rituals mark the inclusion of a new generation into the covenantal relationship between YHWH and Israel. These rituals offer hope in the land of the promise, leaving behind the disobedience and despair of the wilderness. 

The celebration of the Passover in the land reveals continuity and discontinuity between the first and second generations. Moses, Aaron, and Miriam led the people out of Egypt. Joshua will lead the people into the land of the promise. Moses and Aaron instructed the people how to celebrate the first Passover in Egypt, which spared the firstborn of the Israelites during the 10th plague. Because they were in a hurry leaving Egypt, it is unlikely that the Israelites celebrated the festival of the unleavened bread. 

In Joshua 5:10–12, leadership is absent. Joshua does not lead the people like Moses/Aaron or even Josiah later in 2 Kings 23–24. The celebration in Joshua seems to be done naturally without the need for a leader; it was likely done in each household’s tent and not at a central place as the book of Deuteronomy commands (Deuteronomy 16). Because the people are not secure in the land of the promise, they celebrate the Passover on the 14th of the month, followed by the festival of the unleavened bread. 

The celebration of these two festivals is an embodied reenactment and reminder of leaving Egypt. Such rituals underline continuity between the generations. They offer an experiential memory of how God acted on behalf of their ancestors. They offer a taste of hope as they anticipate new beginnings in a land they have not lived in before. The cornerstone memory of the celebrations of the Passover and the unleavened bread is that the Israelites are in a covenantal relationship with a God who liberates the oppressed. Despite the disobedience of the first generation, God did not revoke the promises. Rather, this God graciously offers a new beginning to a new generation.

The emphasis in the report on the celebration of the two festivals is the fact that the people are now in the land and they get to enjoy the produce of the land. Here, we find another side of change in the life of the Israelite community. When they were in the wilderness, they had to rely on the divine gift of the manna. That divine gift was suitable for that place and that part of the journey. Now, with this new beginning, the divine gift comes from the land of Canaan. It is, indeed, a gift because they will eat what they have not planted. They will have to rely on the land. 

There is not much mention of the lamb of the Passover. But there is certainly much attention to the produce that the land will bring forth. The first generation celebrated the Passover in Egypt to mark the end of their laboring for others and not benefiting from the results of their labor. In the celebration of the Passover in the land of the promise, the people do not need to toil yet. They are simply going to enjoy the divine gift through the land. Whether through the manna or through the land, God provides for God’s people along the journey.

That being said, it is crucial to remember those who were living in the land. Indeed, the text does not say that the Israelites took the produce of the fields of the people of the land. But the mention of Jericho alerts the reader to the conquest narratives that are to follow. These lands were not uninhabited. One way to recover the voice of indigenous peoples is to reread these texts through their experiences of displacement and various forms of violence. The Israelites themselves experienced that at the hands of the different empires that controlled them and their lands. Perhaps one can read these texts as signs of hope for indigenous peoples who have been displaced. 

Through the book of Joshua, the colonized were able to imagine a new reality. After all, even though these texts have been misused to justify colonialism and genocide, not only is it the truth that they did not happen this way, but also that they were the texts of the underdog and not those who possessed the power of the empire. They were using the discourse of the empire to subvert its hegemony. The problem happens when the text of the powerless justifies the abuse of power by the powerful.

In the Christian tradition, Psalm 32 is counted among the seven “penitential psalms” (6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143). The thing that makes Psalm 32 unique among this company is that it is not itself a prayer of confession. Instead, it is a kind of call to confession that attempts to teach and motivate the faithful to seek God’s forgiveness. If a “primer” is a book that introduces the basics of a subject, then Psalm 32 could be called a penitential primer.

Proverbs 28:3 teaches a similar lesson when it asserts that “no one who conceals transgressions will prosper, but one who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.” This confidence that God will indeed forgive those who repent reverberates throughout Scripture. Isaiah 55:7 urges sinners to “return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” In a similar vein, 1 John 1:8–9 reminds us that “if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” But “if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

Today’s second reading, 2 Corinthians 5:16–21, frames this forgiveness in the “new creation” that is possible for believers in Christ, and pleads with believers, “On behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”

An overview of the psalm

In Psalm 32 the “lesson” begins with the psalmist’s exuberant declaration of how happy/blessed those are who “come clean” and receive God’s forgiveness (verses 1–2). The outburst is expressed in general terms, although it is clearly based on the psalmist’s own experience. And indeed, these opening verses quickly give way to a prayer that testifies to that experience. The psalmist remembers the misery of unacknowledged sin, which finally drives him to seek God’s forgiveness (verses 3–5). His relief inspires him to pray that “all who are faithful” would follow his example (verse 6), trusting that they, too, will experience God as a “hiding place” and a deliverer (verse 7).

Prayer turns to teaching in verses 8–9, although it is unclear as to whether the psalmist is the teacher or the student. The difficulty is in determining the speaker. If the psalmist is still speaking, then the lesson is directed at anyone within earshot. If God is the speaker, then the lesson is directed at the psalmist. In either case, we as readers can benefit from the exhortation to “not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding.” In other words, “Don’t be an ass! Confess your sins and be forgiven!”

The psalm concludes with a proverb (verse 10) and a call for the forgiven to be glad and rejoice (verse 11).

Two contrasting cover-ups

There is a contrast at the heart of this psalm, and it has to do with two very different uses of the verb “cover” (Hebrew kāsāh).

The cover-up that the psalmist does not recommend is the one he admits to in verses 3–4. “While I kept silence,” he says, “my body wasted away through my groaning all day long.” In retrospect, this state of unconfessed sin seems like the heavy hand of God. However, once he acknowledges his sin to God and decides not to “hide/cover” (kāsāh) his iniquity, the weight is lifted.

In contrast to this negative “cover-up” is God’s positive act of “covering” sin. Verse 1 celebrates the happiness of “those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” In God’s act of forgiveness, our sins are literally “out of sight, out of mind.”

Carrot and stick

Like any good teacher, this psalmist uses more than one means of motivation. He leads off with the “carrot” in the opening verses, talking about how “happy” or “blessed” those are who do not deceive themselves, but acknowledge their sin and experience God’s forgiveness. Further incentive is offered later in the psalm when he promises that the “rush of mighty waters shall not reach” the faithful (verse 6). Further, God will offer them a “hiding place” and preserve them from trouble—surrounding them with “glad cries of deliverance” (verse 7).

The negative means of motivation (the “stick”) comes in the psalmist’s powerful description of what it was like when he was either denying his own sinfulness or stubbornly refusing to admit his sins to God. Commentator James L. Mays observes:

When one has wronged a wife, a parent, a friend, a neighbor—someone with whom there is a conscious relationship—and refuses to acknowledge it, to put the wrong into words so that it is there in speech available to be dealt with, then the wrong retained and sheltered begins to become part of one’s identity. It harms and hardens and diminishes. … In the silence, every affliction and problem takes the form of the judgment of God.

Lest we think this sad state only applies to individuals, Mays adds, “This experience belongs to the life of corporate identities as well as to individuals.”¹

Wisdom’s fingerprints

The “fingerprints” of the wisdom tradition are all over this psalm. Here is a brief inventory of characteristics that often appear in other “wisdom literature” of the Bible:

• “Blessed/Happy” sayings
• Proverbial forms
• Teaching tone
• Appeal to experience
• Contrast between the wise and the foolish

More broadly, the psalmist’s assumption that the wicked will be punished and the righteous rewarded is typical of some of the wisdom literature. The wise interpreter, however, will remember other, more nuanced views (such as we find in the book of Job) before offering false promises to the faithful.

Still, Scripture is united on the central assumption of this psalm: “Confession is the knocking to which the door opens, the seeking that finds, the asking that receives.”²

Notes

1. James L. Mays, Psalms (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994), 147.
2. Mays, 147.

This passage from Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians should be seen in light of his ongoing appeal for his ministry in Corinth. Paul writes to persuade the Corinthians of the truth of his teachings, which are part of his mission to bring the gentiles into the people of God through the power of Christ and the grace of God. Requisite for becoming people of God is a process of reconciliation and change. Through Christ, God makes this change possible.

A fragmentary letter?

Scholars have debated whether 2 Corinthians should be interpreted as a single letter or as a series of fragments. While there are good cases for reading the letter as a series of fragments (with possible breaks in Paul’s argument at the following points: 1:1–2:13; 2:14–6:13; 6:14–7:1; 7:2–16; 8:1–24; 9:1–15; and 10:1–13:13), there are also reasons for reading the letter as a unified whole. For lay readers, this scholarly debate is not incredibly important, since they most regularly encounter the text as a whole. This passage (5:16–21) tends to be interpreted within the context of the surrounding chapters in most configurations, due to the continuation of the argumentation and themes. 

Paul’s Christology

This passage (2 Corinthians 5:16–21) inspires questions about how Paul thinks and talks about Christ when he is interacting with various communities. What does he know about Jesus? 

Paul’s knowledge of Jesus largely concerns Christ’s death and resurrection. Paul writes that Christ Jesus, God’s Son, is descended from David according to the flesh (Romans 1:3–5), born of a woman, under the law (Galatians 4:4). In 1 Corinthians 15 Paul says that he has handed down to the Corinthians the tradition that he received, “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures,” that was buried, rose from the dead, and then appeared to Cephas and the 12, and to some 500 others (!) before appearing to Paul (1 Corinthians 15:3–8). This aligns with his writings in other letters, such as Romans 4:24–25; Galatians 1:4; and 1 Thessalonians 5:10. 

Interestingly, when Paul discusses Christ’s appearances in 1 Corinthians 15, he does not share familiarity with the gospel tradition of the women receiving the first appearance of Christ. It is possible that he omits mentioning this point due to not wanting to further empower a group of women prophets in Corinth whose ministry may already rival his own.

Paul also references the eucharist, saying he received knowledge about it directly from the Lord, possibly in a vision (1 Corinthians 11:23–26). In Paul’s writings Christ seems to exist in some form prior to Jesus’ human life. Much of Paul’s knowledge of the Lord and what the Lord says seems to have been communicated through ecstatic experiences and visions. Otherwise, Paul does not seem to know much about the life and ministry of Jesus that is shared in the gospels. 

Rhetoric of resurrection

Paul’s discussion of reconciliation, resurrection, and Christ’s death should also be seen in the context of his arguments against those in Corinth who do not adhere to a belief in the resurrection of the dead. These Christ-following Corinthians may emphasize ideas of resurrection and transformation in the immediate context rather than waiting until after death. 

These ideas of transformation may involve social transformation, as is suggested in the pre-Pauline baptismal statement of Galatians 3:28, “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave and free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” Paul offers a gloss on this statement in 1 Corinthians 12:13, omitting the “male and female” pairing, perhaps again not wanting to further empower his female rival ministers. 

Yet, for Paul, resurrection of the dead is central to his ministry. It is Christ’s resurrection after death that enables the gentiles to become part of the people of God in its new creation. It is Christ’s resurrection after death that allows weakness to become strength, humiliation to become exaltation and power, despair to become hope. 

The possibilities of change and reconciliation

What is reconciliation? The word “reconciliation” comes from the Greek kata + allasso, related to the term allos, or “other.” The kata prefix is often used to intensify the root word it is paired with—in this instance allasso, or “change,” as in changing from one thing to another. Thus, we might translate katallasso as “radical change.” It also has the connotation of changing enmity to friendship, hostility to favor. When Paul is arguing for people to be reconciled to God, he is arguing that they should remove any barriers to their radical change and restoration of a favorable relationship with God.  

When someone experiences radical change through Christ, the old passes away and new life begins. Part of what changes, Paul writes, is one’s point of view (2 Corinthians 5:16). Through reconciliation, he no longer regards Christ and others from the perspective of flesh, but from the perspective of new life, a radically changed life. Reading this passage with Galatians 3:28 suggests that social hierarchies and relationships should be transformed so that all others in Christ are viewed as clothed with Christ, on equal ground with one another. Through Christ, all are able to be restored, radically changed, and reconciled to God and one another. 

Indeed, Paul writes that “we” are to become ambassadors of this reconciliation, to encourage people to be right with God and live in alignment with God’s justice. The work of a Christian is in the life-giving hope of radical transformation toward justice.

For many Christians, hopes of new life and new creation through Christ are crucial. Yet Christians often allow for this hope for themselves while not really wanting it for others. The idea of one’s neighbor needing to change to “get right with God” is easier for many to imagine than having to change themselves or change their own perspectives on their neighbor. In other words, we are often happy to work toward reconciliation with our neighbor when they have to change, but not when we also must change. The same may have been true of Paul in Corinth, where he wanted the Corinthians to change to adhere to his ministry rather than wanting to incorporate their practices or views into his own.