1-5-2020 Another Creation Story

Thomas J Parlette

“Another Creation Story”

John 1: 1-18

1/5/20 

          In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. God created all things with the power of words. God said “Let it be done_ - and it was done. And God created all things good.

          Now God was especially proud of the man and the woman he had made. For into them, God had breathed a bit of his Holy Spirit. God breathed into them the breath of life, and they became living beings.

          Now this did not sit well with the Devil. The Devil was very jealous of the man and woman God had made – so one day, while God was enjoying the company of the man and the woman, the Devil sauntered by and asked God, “What is it that you enjoy so much about these creatures you have made?”

          And just as God opened his mouth to answer, the Devil reached out and put a padlock on God’s tongue. God could not speak. God was silenced. And since all God’s creative power was in God’s words – God was powerless.

          Well, the Devil enjoyed this tremendously! For many centuries he tortured the man and the woman, and God could do nothing about it. One day, the Devil came to see God, to taunt the silent Divine Being – and as the Devil mocked God, all God did was hold up one finger. Just one finger.

          Well, this confused the Devil, he didn’t know what to make of this. “What do you mean? What are you trying to say? Are you saying you just want to say one thing? One word?”

          God nodded his head, just one word.

          Well, the Devil thought about this for a minute. He had to admit, he was curious what God would say… What harm could one word do? What could God do with just one word? Not much, thought the Devil – so he unlocked God’s tongue.

          And God spoke his one word. God spoke the word in a whisper. God spoke the word to the man and the woman, and it brought them great joy. For in this one word was all the love, compassion, grace, mercy and creative power that had been locked up for so long. And that one word was… Jesus.

          Or, as John so eloquently writes in the prologue to his Gospel, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

          Although traditionally we call this passage a prologue, another description might be an overture. Just think of when you attend a Broadway style musical. The show often begins with an overture. As the house lights go down, the stage lights go up and gently warm the curtains, and the orchestra begins to play. And for a few minutes, we hear just a short piece of what is to come, we hear echoes, snippets of all the major musical numbers to come. In the beginning, we get a musical outline of the evening.

          That’s what John does here in the beginning. He gives us as outline of what’s coming in the story of Jesus. Jesus was there in the beginning with God. He came as a light to the world. He tells us about John, the witness to the light. Jesus was in the world, but the world did not know him. He came to his own, but was rejected. But for those who believed in his name, he gave them power to become children of God.

          So when John writes in this overture, “In the beginning…” he wants us to hear the echo of the ancient story of Genesis that “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters…” and with a word, The Word, God created all that exists.

          John wants that story of the seven days of creation to play softly in the background as he tells us another version of the creation story. John’s story puts Jesus right there at creation as The Word. In Jesus, God’s word becomes incarnate, or made real, given life, given flesh and blood and arms and legs so God’s Word can walk around in the world. For John, this is the culmination of Christmas. This is the reason we celebrate Jesus’ birth. For in Jesus, God dwells among us and recreates the world as a place where salvation is possible. God’s law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, who has come to dwell among us.

          That’s an interesting word “dwell.” In our pew Bibles, it is translated “lived” among us, but it is more commonly rendered “dwelt” among us. It’s a word that comes from the Greek root “skene” from which we also get the word “skins”, as in the skins that tents were made out of. So, if we wanted to get literal with our translation, we might say that The Word was made flesh and “tented” among us. God came to camp out with us, roughing it, so to speak, in this world. God came not to live in a palace, or a castle or the deluxe suite at the Hilton – The Word became flesh and camped out with us. In Jesus Christ, God took a “hands-on” approach to bringing salvation to the world.

          People who study leadership and management techniques have long understood the importance of the “hands-on” approach. To be a good leader, you have to be around, you have to have your boots on the ground, people need to trust that you have first-hand knowledge of the situation because you’ve been there.

          Marcus Buckingham, in his book First Break All the Rules, asked the question, “What qualities make for good managers?” At the top of everyone’s list was “presence.” Hands-on management was essential. Perhaps most interesting was the notion that any manager who wanted to change an organization must be there even more, have an even greater presence. Change requires trust, and there can be no trust without presence.

          Lovett Weems, who has written a book called Take the Next Step: Leading Lasting Change in Churches, agrees. Weems says, “I am coming to believe that all leadership is local. There is a sheer presence required for effective leadership. Leaders must stay close to the people with whom they work and close to the details of what is happening in their setting of leadership. When too much time and emotional energy is being given to endeavors outside that setting, there is almost always the deterioration of the quality of relationship and leadership.”

          He goes on to say, “I have noticed how closely great leaders stay connected to their local settings of leadership.”

          And so, in the beginning, the Word became flesh and lived among us, the ultimate in “hands-on management”, so that we might know, first hand, who God is and what God is like.

          Frank Logue tells the story about a theology professor he once knew. This professor was a man who simply could not express the truth of God in simple language. He didn’t mean to come across as stuffy and obscure – he just couldn’t help it.

          This deeply intellectual theology professor had a student from Africa. This African student came to the United States to get a Masters degree at an American seminary, and while he was here, he became good friends with this professor.

          Later, when this young man returned to Africa as Pastor, he found himself in a bind. The professor came to visit him. Now this pastor knew what was going to happen. His congregation was going to want to hear this great theologian preach. And even worse, the professor would want to oblige. In the young pastor’s mind – this was going to be a disaster. His professor friend would talk over the heads of his people and they wouldn’t understand a thing.

          However, there was no way for him to graciously refuse his old professor. So the professor came to Africa, and sure enough, everyone wanted to hear him preach. So when Sunday arrived, the professor climbed into the pulpit and his former student stood nearby to translate the sermon into his native Swahili.

          The professor began by saying – “There are two great epistemological theories in the world today.”

          And the young African pastor paused just a beat and translated, saying, “Let me tell you about my friends, Jesus.”

          And so the sermon went. The professor expounded on his views about epistemology in deep and ponderous language, and the African pastor told the congregation stories about the flesh and blood Jesus. All present agreed it was an amazing sermon.

          When the Word became flesh and lived among us, it was the Divine way of saying, “let me tell you about my friend Jesus. Do you want to know God, let me show you what God is like. Moses gave you the Law – but Jesus will show you grace and truth.”

          In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. All things came into being through him.

          Then one day, God breathed this Word into being, as a baby born in Bethlehem. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth.

          So it was in the beginning, and evermore shall be.

          May God be praised. Amen.

12-22-19 Incarnation

Rev. Jay Rowland

4th Sunday of Advent/December 22, 2019

Text: Matthew 1:18-25

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,"

which means, "God is with us."

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took Mary as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and they named the child Jesus.

Incarnation

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, we are drawing nearer to Bethlehem, nearer to the manger, nearer to Joseph and nearer also to Mary … “the virgin (who) shall conceive and bear a son and they shall name him Emmanuel …”

That one little detail, the virgin birth, is for many a sizable obstacle standing in the way.  The Bible has its faults, of course, but for some, a virgin birth is the most conspicuous. Even so let’s not lose the forest for the trees of the Bible’s basic message just because of that because it’s worth holding on to. From beginning to end in the Bible, God exposes (and opposes) every threat to Creation and to God’s people.  Put another way, the legion forces of destruction lined up against Humanity and Creation have no greater foe than God.  Accept or reject the virgin birth if you must, but don’t lose sight of what God is doing!

Advent broadcasts the promises God has consistently made for millennia:

war and violence and terrorism shall cease;

kindness shall outlive violence;

God is coming to save us, even Creation itself will be saved. 

If we don’t think we need to be saved, then all this Advent and Christmas and Jesus “stuff” isn’t worth spending any more attention or time (or money) on.  Advent works in the tension between of our vulnerable span of life in this world, and the nature of our God who decided to inhabit a human body and community with all of the uncertainty and vulnerability that comes with it.  The passage today from Matthew’s gospel presents some intense details surrounding this decisive moment in which God’s ongoing opposition to the forces of evil, sin, and death takes a new turn in the birth of Messiah in Bethlehem. 

Oh but that’s old news, right?!  We’ve heard this all before.  December after December.  And of course it’s good news but … I’m not convinced we’re as impressed as we could be.  Incarnation is the ultimate measure of God’s commitment to save you and me and all of us. But sometimes I feel like we underestimate what’s involved in the Incarnation.  Maybe we get hung up on details (like the virgin birth, for one example). Sometimes I wonder if people are … I don’t know, bored with it, as if Incarnation was something sort of ordinary for God, as ordinary as, say flipping a switch is for any of us—minimal effort—Boom. Done.  Saved.

“Yay God!  Pass the gravy.”

But wait a minute! This unprecedented, un-provable, largely unbelievable act of God--Incarnation--Jesus--this thing we celebrate every year, perhaps we don’t realize how vulnerable it was to powerful forces of opposition, vulnerable to human sin, cruelty, corruption and death, the very forces from which God endeavors to save us.  There was no guarantee that Incarnation would succeed.

“Really! Huh.  Wow.  Um, okay, so, are you gonna wrap this up soon? I got stuff to do.”

The long-awaited Messiah shall arrive without fanfare--not even a quick blast of supernatural light or rush of a violent wind.  Messiah’s arrival will not draw attention to itself nor demand the attention of the very people actively longing and waiting for the Arrival.  Instead, Messiah will come into the world the same way you and I did: through the womb of a woman--well, in Messiah’s case, a young girl, actually, and a “nobody” (just like us) from an otherwise unknown town.  

Since we know how it all turns out, perhaps we don’t appreciate that there was no guarantee that Incarnation would succeed.

Perhaps another reason we underestimate the moment is because maybe we presume childbirth is automatic—especially here in 2019.  I hear that there are women out there who are able to, pardon the expression, pop out a baby with the same effort required of, say, a vigorous workout routine.  But my wife is not one of those women.  Three of our four babies came into this world with considerable trauma for both baby and mother.  I’ve often wondered, if we hadn’t been in a hospital, what would the odds have been that either my wife or the baby would survive.

So when I think about Mary birthing her first baby a couple thousand years ago, whether in a pile of hay or on the floor of a cave or wherever, I wonder: what were the odds she or the baby Messiah would survive? Who knows what the mortality/survival rate was for pregnancies and child-birth two-thousand years ago. And the infant survival/mortality rate in so-called Third World countries. The odds had to be unfavorable whether childbirth happened in a castle surrounded by midwives, or in a hut surrounded by village women, or far from home with only your husband staring blankly at you. 

No guarantee Incarnation would succeed.

From nearly every angle of its trajectory, Incarnation easily could have failed—maybe even SHOULD HAVE FAILED.  Long before Mary’s labor pains arrived, it nearly did fail, not long after the angel departed from Mary. 

Luke’s gospel presents the angel’s visit to Mary. It’s a warm and wonderful scene. We’re impressed by Mary’s willingness to do as the angel said.  Mary could have refused.  Matthew presents Joseph’s involvement. Joseph is introduced to us as “a righteous man” (v20).  Before the verse ends, it becomes evident that righteous is an ominous description. Joseph’s righteousness apparently convinces him that he has no choice but to “dismiss her quietly”.  Matthew’s narration gives the impression this is somehow kind of Joseph, that he’s “unwilling to expose (Mary) to public disgrace.”  However “quietly” Joseph dismisses Mary, it remains a blatantly public declaration that had nothing to do with Mary’s pregnancy, which leaves her at the mercy of a culture in which severe punishment, perhaps even death, was applicable to any woman suspected of an unplanned pregnancy. 

The very first threat to Messiah’s arrival comes from a "righteousness man”.  A recurring theme in Jesus’ life.

Like women of every time and place, Mary is subjected to the realities-and cruelties-of a patriarchal (male-dominated) society/culture.  Joseph isn’t required to have a reason to dismiss Mary quietly; he has the right to expose Mary to public disgrace simply because he is a man. It’s his word against hers.  No contest.   Whether this makes God’s choice of Mary a dangerous choice or an excellent one is an open question.  Regardless, it would have been so much less complicated-and less dangerous-if God had skipped over the whole pregnancy process—virgin or not.

Advent put enormous pressure on Mary. Mary (and Messiah) find themselves on the path into mortal danger.  Perhaps Advent might remind us that we live on that same path too. We are just as vulnerable as Mary was to the uncertainties and vulnerabilities of life on any given day. 

So let us take courage: Advent is not deterred by mortal danger.  Advent is not cancelled by the harsh realities of our perplexing world and its people.  Advent “ushers in an age, long-expected and hoped for, yet …  so unusual that it could hardly be anticipated" correctly (Charles Cousar, Texts for Preaching Year A). Advent unleashes the energy of God’s decisive action to save us.  However, this doesn’t mean it was guaranteed to succeed or that this would be free of complications.

For example, God must dispatch an angel to separate Joseph from his righteousness. Scholar Richard Swanson goes so far as to say that the angel actually mocks Joseph for being afraid of a pregnant woman.[1] When the angel gives the unborn baby a name (actually two) and a (divine) purpose, it becomes clear to Joseph that something much more important his reputation is going on. The angel gives two names to Messiah, the name Jesus because Jesus will save God’s people. With the second name, Emmanuel, the angel evokes the Prophet Isaiah.  The name Emmanuel would have hushed a room full of angry voices.  It issues and reminds everyone of Messiah’s purpose.  Particularly Joseph.

The reality erupting from Matthew's gospel is that Emmanuel/Jesus/Incarnation faced serious opposition the moment Mary accepted the Angel Gabriel’s proposition.  God’s dependency upon ordinary people in the face of powerful opposition shows that the Incarnation is vulnerable to the very powers from which all of is was designed to save us. 

We have grown accustomed to earth-bound examples of power; power which unleashes chaos and suffering and calamity on God’s people.  We are not accustomed to the invisible “power” of God.  It does not demand our attention like suffering and calamity and chaos do.

The past four Sundays the power of God’s promises have again been proclaimed.  We light one candle for each Promise: Peace; Hope; Joy; God’s Faithfulness.  Each flickering candle stands amid the dark winds stirred up by the mounting evidence contradicting each promise.  The darkness shall not overcome it.

Again today, on this 4th and final Sunday of Advent, another promise of God (faithfulness) was proclaimed.  And perhaps when it was proclaimed our brains did what brains do: applied the slightest rational consideration, measuring the objective reality of rampant human suffering against the sound of oft-repeated words to which our ears have grown accustomed.  And perhaps in an unguarded moment the Advent promise, the miracle of Incarnation, God-with-us seems less and less likely, or perhaps less and less remarkable. 

Regardless, God’s proclamations and promises have never been more worthy of our attention and devotion than they are right now.  

The Gospel of Matthew begins and ends with Emmanuel first appearing in the opening chapter to dissuade Joseph of his own righteousness.  It concludes with Emmanuel fully grown, promising to be with us always, every moment of every day, all the way to the end— of our life, or the end of “history” whatever comes first (Matthew 28:20). In between, Jesus is engaged in constantly undoing the damage inflicted by human sin, opposing all that continually harasses and threatens God’s people and God’s good creation.

The Incarnation happens with no guarantees. It prevails despite numerous threats at critical times along the way. Incarnation prevails because ordinary people carried it forward for God with no guarantee of success. It no less a miracle than the promised Incarnation itself to invest our all in an embrace of Incarnation. It is our turn to recognize Emmanuel’s arrival. It’s our time to join the heavenly choirs of angels singing praises to God as the Advent gives way to the Day of ChristMass, and the promised Arrival of Incarnation. 

“Restore us,

O God of hosts;

let your face shine,

that we may be saved.”

[1] Richard Swanson, Provoking the Gospel,  https://provokingthegospel.wordpress.com/2016/12/15/a-provocation-fourth-sunday-of-advent/

12-9-19 Humming in the Darkness

Thomas J Parlette

“Humming in the Darkness”

Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15: 4, 12-13

12/8/19

          The other day I stopped in at Barnes and Nobles Bookstore in the Mall. Online shopping is great when you know exactly what you want. But sometimes I’m in the mood to browse and discover something I didn’t know I needed.

          So I was in the religious section, thumbing through a copy of Max Lucado’s latest book and I noticed that you can buy a separate Old Testament and New Testament version of The Message, a paraphrase of the Bible in modern language from Eugene Peterson that I really like. So just out curiosity, I picked up a copy of the Old Testament Message and started comparing it to one of the complete Bible versions. You know, I thought maybe they were offering more maps or commentary or study helps in the separated versions – you never know. And I’m always on the lookout for interesting new resources.

          As I was looking over the Old Testament version, a younger looking lady walked up beside me and started looking at Bible translations as well. She looked over at what I was looking at and saw that it was an Old Testament only volume, and then said, I suppose to me, “I think I like the New Testament God better.”

          I can understand that. A lot of people feel that way. A lot of people have trouble reading the Hebrew scriptures that we call the Old Testament. It’s easy to come away from the first part of our Bible with a picture of a vengeful, angry, vindictive God who seems to like sending plagues and killing prophets of other religions and drowning Egyptians in the sea. The Old Testament does have its share of violence, harsh words of warning and yes, even judgment. It’s much easier, much more comfortable to pick up a copy of just the New Testament and stroll through the countryside of Galilee, listening to the stories told by the kind and compassionate Son of God. Lots of people prefer the New Testament God.

          But in the midst of the doom and gloom that seems to dominate the Old Testament, we come across a gem like this one in Isaiah – “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse and a branch shall grow out of his roots…”

          Isaiah wrote this poem of hope to an Israelite nation that had been beaten by the Babylonians and humiliated by the Assyrians. They were a people who had been cut down. They were a stump, a once great society cut down to nothing – or almost nothing.

          “But don’t give up hope,” says Isaiah, “something is coming. Something is going to grow from this stump - a shoot will sprout that will one day become the root of Jesse and the Kingdom will be restored.” Isaiah isn’t talking doom and glow – he is talking hope and encouragement. Keep your chin up! God has not forgotten us. God will keep his promise. Rejoice! Praise the Lord! The root of Jesse shall come. Hold fast to hope.

          For we cannot live without hope. Once we give up hope, we’re finished. Dostoyevsky, the famous Russian novelist once said, “To live without hope is to cease to live.” He was right. When we stop hoping – we stop living.

          Victor Frankl was a lucky man. He survived a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. He was one of the lucky ones. Or maybe it was something more than luck.

          In his book, From Death Camp to Existentialism, Frankl notes the desperate need that all human beings have for hope. In the camp, hope grew especially strong in the days leading up to Christmas. Every prisoner dreamed of going home. They could endure the physical abuse, the back breaking work, the lack of food, the freezing cold – as long as they could look forward to the day that they would be rescued and go home for Christmas.

          But then Christmas came and went with no rescue. A few prisoners took their own lives. Then a few more. And still more. Some people just stopped getting out of bed. They stopped eating. They stopped caring. And one morning they just didn’t wake up. It was as if they had willed themselves to slip away.

          Six months later, when Allied soldiers took over Frankl’s camp and liberated the prisoners, they found that almost half of the prison population had died since Christmas. They could not live without hope. As Langston Hughes has written, “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.” We cannot live without hope.

          That’s why Paul wrote what he did to the church in Rome. They were in a tight spot, being persecuted and harassed for their beliefs in the capital city of the world at that time. They needed a word of hope to get them through. They needed some encouragement, so assurance that there was a brighter day coming. So Paul goes back to Isaiah: “Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures, we might have hope.” Remember what Isaiah said – the root of Jesse shall come. It’s not all doom and gloom. There is Hope and Encouragement in the Old Testament too.

          And to have hope is to have life. Willem Brandt was also a lucky man during World War II. He was one of the thousands of Dutch citizens that were also imprisoned in concentration camps. One of Brandt’s friends had a candle made of wax and animal fat, which he guarded with care. Among the starving men, the consumption of just a little fat, even from a candle, could mean the difference between life and death. Each night this man would nibble off a small chunk of candle in secret, and he would share a few bits with his friend Brandt, as long as he didn’t tell the other prisoners.

          One morning, one of the other prisoners announced, “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

          And someone said, “Next year, we will be home for Christmas.”

          Another prisoner, lost in happier memories whispered, “At Christmas time candles burn and bells ring.”

          All the other men nodded, savoring their own memories of Christmas.

          That little episode touched off a change in Brandt’s friend. He snuck out that night and came back to the bunkhouse with a burning ember from the fire pit. He set his treasured candle and carefully lit the wick. All the other men slowly gathered around the flickering, half-eaten candle. The light reflected off their bony shoulders and sunken cheeks, but their eyes were filled with soft light.

          Some said, “It’s Christmas. The light shines in the darkness.”

          And another voice finished the thought, “And the darkness cannot overcome it.” Hope continued to flicker.

          The following year, those prisoners were home for Christmas. And every Christmas since, those who survived remembered the gift of light shining even in the darkest places.

          The German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once wrote that “In all things it is better to hope than to despair.”

          Vaclav Havel, the former President of Czechoslovakia once said that “hope is definitely not the same as optimism. Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”

          And Henri Nouwen explains that “hope means to keep living amid desperation and to keep humming in the darkness. Hope is knowing that there is love, it is trust in tomorrow, it is falling asleep and waking again when the sun rises.”

          And that is what we do in this season of Advent. We keep humming in the darkness, waiting for the light of the world to conquer the darkness.

          We keep humming in the darkness, trusting that we will rise again to a better day – a day when the Lord will rule with a spirit of wisdom, understanding, counsel and might.

          We keep humming in the darkness until that day when the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

          We keep humming in the darkness, secure in the knowledge that the root of Jesse shall come, the root of Jesse shall come.

          So let us gather together at the Lord’s table and nourished for the wait.

          May God be praised. Amen.

12-1-19 Spoiling the Christmas Spirit

Thomas J Parlette

“Spoiling the Christmas Spirit”

Matthew 24: 36-44

12/1/19

          There is something vaguely unfair about our lectionary passage for today. After a week spent laying the groundwork for a merry Christmas, in which many of us decorated our homes, put up lights outside or maybe got a jump on our holiday shopping, it’s a little jarring to come to church and listen to these words of ominous judgement, where “there will be two in the field and only one will be taken.” It seems vaguely unfair to open our Bibles and be confronted with these vivid and clearly un-Christmasy images from Matthew.

          “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father…”

          It sort of spoils our Christmas spirit to hear about the end of the world.

          I like how Anna Carter Florence approaches this passage. She wonders if you could learn exactly when and how your life would end – would you want to know? If you could learn when and how the world would end – would you want to know? If you could learn exactly who would be taken and who would be left – would you want to know?

          She goes on to say that she first started thinking about this passage one summer “when I was camping with my family in Quebec. I was sitting at an outdoor restaurant, in a small park overlooking the river. Next to me was a man drinking a bottle of locally brewed beer with an interesting name – “Fin du Monde”- “the end of the world.” He had a book, but he wasn’t reading it. He took off his glasses and stared at the river. He looked glad to be there, or maybe relieved, and I wondered if there were other places – work or home – where he could have been, or perhaps should have been at that moment.

          Nearby, a young family spread out a blanket for a picnic on the grass. They ate their sandwiches, and then the two young girls jumped up and began turning cartwheels. The father ambled off to get something from the car. The mother started a conversation with the baby, in that singular language that exists between parent and child. Mommy smiled, baby smiled. Mommy cooed, baby cooed back. The girls turned more cartwheels and Dad returned with more drinks. I thought to myself, “Then two will be in the field, one will be taken and one will be left.” Could these parents ever choose between the kids? Could the children ever choose between their parents? Is that the end of the world, being forced to choose. Was there even a choice to be made?

          There was a flurry of activity at the other end of the restaurant. Waiters hurried by with trays of champagne flute glasses filled with something orange and sparkling, and in a moment I saw why. Wedding guests were arriving for an outdoors reception near the river. Flower girls played a game of tag around the tables and a violinist tuned up her instrument. The bride arrived, resplendent in ivory satin. She and her groom looked like a picture out of a storybook. They posed by the river as the photographer snapped away – family members hustled in and out of various shots. I thought, “For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.” Standing on the banks of the river, on the threshold of their new life together, would this couple want to know, if they could? Would they still have chosen to marry? Would they pray for happiness, or prepare for the end?

          Le fin du monde – the end of the world. Kind of spoils our Christmas spirit to think about it, but we know it’s coming someday, one way or another. The end may come from global warning, or perhaps a nuclear war or maybe a black hole will swallow us all. There are lots of possibilities, lots of theories and more than enough predictions. But Matthew is quite clear about one thing – “About that day and hour, no one knows. Only God.” No one knows when. No one knows how. No one knows who. No one knows why. We just know that it will happen.

          And the only thing we can do, says Matthew, is to keep awake. Our only job is to watch and be ready.

          Perhaps some of you have seen the movie “Mr. Brown” YUou might recall the scene in which Queen Victoria’s advisors make a bold plan to help the Queen with her depression over the death of her beloved husband, Albert. They hire a young soldier, John Brown, to bring the Queen’s favorite pony to Balmoral. They hope that riding will take her mind off her grief. Each day, John Brown stands outside her window and waits for the Queen to ride. But she refuses. One day, she sends him a message that she may never come down to ride. His waiting is useless.

          John Brown sends back a reply – “When her majesty does wish to ride, I shall be ready.”

          This first Sunday of Advent, we do the same thing – we make ourselves ready, by watching and waiting for the coming of our King.

          But waiting is hard, and it sometimes seems pointless. Why wait. Let’s just put up the decoration and start singing Christmas carols already. Waiting is not something we are good at. Standing outside the window, never knowing when or if, does seem useless.

          No, we are not good at waiting. Patience is not something we have in abundance. We’re not good at waiting and not knowing. We want to know when and how and why and who. We like to know.

          Part of it is that we believe knowledge gives us power. If we know the specifics, we might be able to do something about it. And sometimes that is true.

          But in this case, knowledge of when the world will end – Matthew says “No.” It won’t give you power. It won’t give you control. It will just bring you heartbreak.

          If you could be the one to decide when, and how, and who and why – would you really want to be? Would you really want to hold the fate of each stranger and loved one in the palm of your hand and be forced to choose?

          Since the fall of communism in Hungary, each citizen now has the right to go to the government and request their official file. In it, you can read the reports and denunciations that have been filed over the years. A clergyman was asked if he intended to retrieve his file and he said “No. What would I learn? That a colleague perhaps, denounced me? That a friend betrayed? What would I do with that knowledge? Would it make a difference in how I live? I think not. I do not want that knowledge. I leave it to God.”

          Some things are getter left to God. “Of that day and hour, no one knows – only God. So keep watch. Keep awake.”

          It seems to me that God has given us the greatest blessing. Our job is only to watch and attend to life, and love those around us. Our job is not to choose or predict. In God’s immense wisdom and compassion, God has spared us that most painful of tasks, and given us a table by the river to enjoy life while we wait.

          In the meantime, it might help to remind ourselves what we are waiting for. For instance, in a small Swiss town, there was a church that was famous for its organ. The music from this instrument was so moving, so resonant, so rich, that those who heard it swore that they could see visions of God. Worshipers would leave the church every Sunday inspired and renewed to live their lives to the glory of God – all because of the awesome music of this wonderful pipe organ.

          But over time, the organs pipes began to lose their rich sound. The music became thin and mediocre. The pastor brought in repairmen from all over Switzerland – but to no avail. None of them could restore the organ to its former glory.

          But then one night, a shabby-looking stranger came to town. He went to see the pastor and asked if he could spend the night in the church. The pastor was a little suspicious – but he decided to let the man stay.

          Later that night, the pastor awoke to the sound of beautiful music coming from the sanctuary. It was the rich, resonant, soaring tones that had once filled the hearts of the townspeople. He ran to the church, where he found the whole town had gathered. And there they sat in reverent awe, praising God for the beauty they were experiencing. And at the organ sat the shabby-looking stranger.

          When the music stopped, the pastor asked, “Who are you?”

          The man said, “My name is Mueller.”

          “But who are you that you could restore the beautiful music of our organ?”

          The stranger smiled and wiped some dust from the mantle of the organ. There in gold letters was the name “Mueller.”

          “Many years ago, I built this organ with my own hands,” explained the stranger. “Now I have come to make it sing again.”

          It’s not easy to wait, and it’s not easy to live with uncertainty. Maybe it spoils your Christmas spirit to practice the patience of Advent – to sit and watch and wait.

          But that’s what we are called to do – and someday Christ will return and make God’s creation sing once more.

          So let us come to the table and be nourished for the wait.

          May God be praised. Amen.

11-24-19 A Portrait of the King

Thomas J Parlette

“A Portrait of the King”

Jer. 23: 1-6, Col. 1: 15-20

11/24/19 

          How about this for an idea – let’s just skip the holidays this year. Sounds kinda tempting doesn’t it? Drop out of sight this Wednesday, right before Thanksgiving – hibernate like the bears do – and pop back up on Thursday, Jan. 2nd of 2020, just in time for the weekend. Avoid the holiday hoopla altogether. No crowded stores, no out of control parties, no stale Christmas letters, no anxiety about finding the perfect gifts, and no stretched to the limit credit cards. And of course, no extra holiday pounds to work off either.

          It’s sort of tempting to leap over these next few weeks and simply settle in for a long winter’s nap a little early.

          Well that fantasy actually formed the basis for a movie called “Christmas with the Kranks”, based on a book by John Grisham called “Skipping Christmas.” Tim Allen plays Luther Krank, a man who is incensed that his family spent over 6,000 dollars on the previous year’s Christmas, and now they have nothing to show for it. With his daughter in the Peace Corps, he convinces his wife to skip Christmas this year, and put the money towards a Caribbean cruise. They decide to forego the parties, the Christmas tree, the lights, the Christmas Eve bash and any participation in the neighborhood decorating contest – in in which all the neighbors put an identical Frosty the Snowman on their roofs.

          The movie revolves around how the neighbors react to their decision to skip the holidays, in particular the Dan Ackroyd character – the man who organizes the streets Christmas lights, and who gets mad at the Kranks for ruining the Frosty display.

          But is it easy – or even possible for that matter – to really skip the holidays? The Kranks discover that their decision unleashes enormous consequences for their neighborhood and their own family. I admit, it’s not the best holiday movie out there, but I like Tim Allen, so whenever I run across it, I watch it anyway as part of my holiday rotation,

          For us in the pews on a Sunday morning, the idea of skipping the holidays, or at least all the fuss and stress that comes with the holidays, raises a deeper question to consider. The question of what really matters during this upcoming holiday season. How should we approach these next 6 weeks so that we aren’t hurried and rushed, over-extended and stressed out, grumpy and out-of-sorts.

          For, truth be told, I don’t think any of us really wants to skip the holidays – we just want to make sure they ARE what they were MEANT to be – that is, Holy Days.

          We don’t want these next 6 weeks to be a blur of parties and presents, pumpkin pies and candy canes with only a maxed out credit card to show for it all, do we?

          I don’t think so. I think we’d all like these “holidays” to be “Holy Days” – days that find us ready to celebrate the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Good Shepherd who comes to us as a child in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

          You probably noticed from the bulletin that today is Christ the King Sunday. The last Sunday of our Church year. I’ve always thought it appropriate that we end our liturgical year on this Sunday right before Thanksgiving. It’s good to end the year with songs and offerings of gratitude. Our lectionary passages also mark the passing of the church year in 2 ways.

          Jeremiah paints us a portrait – a portrait of the new King who is coming.

          And Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, gives us a song – a song to sing while we wait.

          God’s word came to Jeremiah – and God was not happy. God was especially disappointed in King Jehoiakim – a monarch who lived about 600 years before Jesus.

          Jehoiakim was a bad King. He was a bad ruler, a bad leader and a  bad shepherd. He abused his people, he was unfair, unjust and he was a cheat. In fact, 2 Kings tells us a little story about Jehoiakim. When the powerful Pharoah of Egypt demanded that his nation pay 100 talents of silver and one talent of gold, Jehoiakim raised the money by levying a tax on the whole land. Worse yet, he overcharged, and kept some of the money to upgrade his personal penthouse.

          Not the kind of King – not the kind of Shepherd – God was looking for. “It is you who have scattered my flock, and driven them away. You have not attended to them. So I will attend to you for your evil doings,” says the Lord.

          God promises to gather the remnant of his flock, and put his people under the care of a new generation of Kings. Good Kings, who will be good shepherds, who will watch over the people, protect them and keep them from getting lost.

          Better yet, God will “raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as King and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness, and provide safety for all God’s people.

          That is Jeremiah’s portrait of the King just over the horizon. A portrait with no name, not just yet.

          Then we skip ahead in our Bibles to hear a word from Paul. Paul writes a name under the portrait Jeremiah has just painted. Paul scratches into the frame the name “Jesus.” And then Paul turns to us – and he starts humming, tapping his foot and clapping his hands – and he breaks into song, like an old Hollywood musical.

          Paul Duke tells the story of a white man who during the racial turmoil of the 1960’s visited one of the areas where the bad feelings were erupting the worst. Upon his return, a friend asked him, “It seems those activists down south have everything going against them – the culture, our history, even the law. Even the FBI seems to be against them and their cause. Do you think they will lose?”

          And the man replied, “No, I think they will win.”

          How can you say that when all the odds are against them?

          “I think they will win because they have a song.” (1)

          Songs are powerful. Paul understood the power of a song very well. In fact, he chose to use a song to battle some false teachers at the young church in Colossae. To combat those heretics who claimed that Jesus was only an angel, and not the King Jeremiah spoke of, Paul borrowed from the worship life of the church a great Christological hymn – that’s fancy talk for a “song about Jesus.” Paul knew that if the young church were armed with a song, they could do battle with the best of them. The melody is lost to history, but we find the lyrics to this song in this letter to the Colossians:

          “Christ is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation…”

          And what a great song it is. It boldly proclaims the truth that Jesus was before all creation. Jesus was in Creation and that everything was created by him and for him. Being the first-born of the dead, Jesus is about the business of the re-creation of people individually and corporately in the church. Finally, the song sings about the Jesus who not only created the world as we know it, but who is also creating a new world in which his people shall live forever.

          Righteousness and Justice shall be the order of the day. And God’s people will be protected, guided and lovingly cared for.

          Hmmm – just the sort of King Jeremiah saw just over the horizon.

          You know, back in the fall semester of 1997 at Duke University, there were two sophomores who were taking organic chemistry and who did pretty well on all the quizzes and midterms and labs and such. So well, in fact, that going into the final, they each had a solid “A”. These two friends were so confident that the weekend before finals week, even though their chemistry exam was scheduled for Monday morning, they decided to go up to the University of Virginia to party with some friends. However, with the residue of their good time literally hanging on their heads, they overslept all day Sunday and didn’t make it back to Duke until 7:00 Monday morning.

          Rather than take their final then, they found their professor and explained to him why they needed to miss their exam. They told him they went to UVA for the weekend, but left out the hangover part and said instead that they had a flat tire on the way home and didn’t have a spare. They couldn’t get help for a long time and so they were late getting back to campus.

          The professor thought this over and then agreed that they could make up the final on the following day. The two friends were elated and studied all through the night and went in the next day to take their make-up final. The professor placed them in separate rooms, handed them a test booklet and told them to begin.

          They each looked at the first problem, a very easy question worth 5 points out of 100 – and thought “Great, this is going to be easy.” But then they flipped over to the second page. There was just one more question, worth 95 points. It read, “Which tire?”(2)

          Justice does come. It may seem for awhile that the other side is winning. Things may often seem unfair. And they often are. But we have to remember that the final accounting has not been completed, the final exam has not occurred. One day, there will be justice. One day a righteous King will come to rule with justice. That’s what the song says.

          Jeremiah looked into the future and painted a portrait of just such a  King – a Good shepherd just over the horizon.

          And Paul gave us a song to sing while we wait – that we might remember that such a Good Shepherd did come and live among us in the person of Jesus Christ.

          That’s what these “Holy Days” are all about. A new kind of King is coming. A Good Shepherd is on the way. His advent is just around the corner.

          So let us give thanks and sing –

          For we wouldn’t want to skip that.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved Nov. 18th, 2019.

2.    Ibid…

11-10-19 A Three Dimensional Church

Thomas J Parlette

A Three Dimensional Church”

Haggai 1:15b-2:9

11/10/19

          When someone mentions 3D printing, what probably comes to mind is a desktop-sized printer from a high end catalog like Hammacher Schlemmer, The Sharper Image or Brookstone, that can produce small three dimensional objects. Some of these objects are very useful. 3D printers can turn out anything from auto parts to acoustic guitars to camera lenses, prosthetic limbs and much more.

          But the technology is now being applied on a far larger scale. 3D printing machines the size of a house can print prefabricated parts for full-sized houses – or even complete small houses – and can do so repeatedly and rapidly, with each one an exact replica of the preceding one. Thus, 3D printing is now an industrial production technology.

          The headline for one article about this large scale printing reads, “This giant 3D printer can build 10 prefab homes in under 24 hours!” Granted, they aren’t huge homes, but 10 in 24 hours is remarkable. Just think how that could help provide shelters following a natural disaster, to say nothing about alleviating our homeless problem and maybe reducing the cost of everyday house construction.

          Who knows, 3D printing might even find its way into the church world too. According to Danae Dougherty, managing principal with Visioneering Studios Inc in Irvine, California, 3D printing of church buildings is a little way off yet. He says, 3D is still pretty experimental for architecture and construction…the actual time test for this technology hasn’t been met yet.”(1)

          So the first churches produced using 3D printers will probably be plain and simple – humble dwellings for the Divine.

          The Jews who had returned to Jerusalem after their exile in Babylon may have felt that way about what was left of their once great Temple. All they had left was a very humble – some might say run down – dwelling place for God.

          This text from Haggai, very precisely dated to October 21st, 520 BC, is from a series of addresses or perhaps sermons delivered to Zerubabbel, the Governor of Judah and the High Priest Joshua. Here we find speaking to the people of Judah on God’s behalf. The listeners include the remnant living before the Temple’s destruction and those too young to have experienced the horror. All have returned from exile. Cyrus, the emperor of Persia, has permitted the Jews to come home and rebuild the Temple, but the rebuilding effort has come to a stand still. The Jew’s commitment to temple reconstruction has cooled. The people have lost their priorities and have focused more on their own homes and personal security than on establishing the center of their faith community.

          This passage amounts to a pep talk, sort of a halftime speech to rally the team to get going on their re-building project. Yes, it’s a challenge, but Haggai reminds the people that God promises that there will be more to come: “The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of Hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of Hosts.” The Temple would eventually be 3 dimensional in the best sense of that term, the Lord said.

          Granted, the church of the post-Pentecost era is not a building, per say, that we can print out of a 3D printer and put together. The church is ultimately people. There are three dimensions that apply to us nonetheless – height, depth and breadth.

          Of the three, in recent years, churches have concentrated on breadth. We have tried to make our churches welcoming of a greater range of people than historically had been true of the church. Individual churches have done that by adding contemporary services, making bulletins more user friendly, preaching lots of “love your neighbor” sermons, putting a coffee shop in somewhere around the church, creating small groups that might be of interest to a wide range of people and by eliminating barriers of race, sexual orientation along with physical barriers as we have tried to increase our accessibility.

          The church has worked to become more open. It has elevated inclusivity and diversity top to the level of virtues, and that’s a good thing. But in some cases, however, the focus on breadth has been at the expense of height and depth.

          This is a problem because height is the starting point for what makes us “the church”. Height can represent for us the relationship we have with that which is higher than ourselves – our Creator and Lord. But we can get so involved in horizontal relationships with each other and our community that we neglect to cultivate the vertical relationship, our relationship with God.

          For instance, twelve step programs like AA challenge the church not to forget height when thinking about our religious life. In these programs, the first step is to acknowledge that you are powerless to resist our addiction by your own power. The second step is to turn control of one’s life over to a higher power. Sounds very familiar. Twelve step programs recognize that the people who turn to them for help have gotten the dimensions of their lives out of balance and have neglected the higher connection.

          Centuries ago, Saint Augustine wrote, “Thou hast made us for thyself alone, O God, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” Augustine who pointing us to the dimension of height in our life of faith.

          Church architecture is designed to do this as well. Most classically designed churches are raised above the level ground, so you have to walk up steps to get in – like our original doors are. Then when you enter the church, you are struck with grand vaulted ceiling and long, ornate stained glass windows, that draw you eye, and hopefully your spirit, up towards God. Church architecture as meant to point to God, focus our attention upward and at the same time remind us that we are not bigger, or higher, than God.

          Donna Schaper, a prominent pastor in the New York area, once told a story about sacred space to Bearings Online:

          “Sacred space, she said, “is a temple for the spirit or flesh for the spirit. In more than 40 years as a minister I’ve had one fight after another about sacred space. They are always budget fights – Should we feed the poor of fix the roof. It’s always a hard choice. I argue that it’s not really an either/or kind of thing, but a nested event – the roof and the walls, the whole building houses the spirit of the people which then goes on to give them energy for feeding the poor. We want to do both with spiritual vigor.”

          “I remember a quarrel I had with one of my wealthier parishioners in Riverhead, New York. She wanted to put a carillon in the steeple. I wanted her to fund the homeless shelter in the building, which housed 150-plus people a night. She refused, and the carillon went in. It cost 10,000 dollars. The first night it played at 5:00 pm. At 5:15, I ran into my neighbor who was the executive director of the Methadone clinic next door. She had tears in her eyes. She said, “The music is so beautiful. It pierces the sky! It is going to help me get through the day.”

          “Houses of worship help people of all kinds get through their day. Sometimes we do that by feeding them spiritually. Sometimes we do that by feeding them physically. There is very little reason not to do both.”

          “I was wrong in my approach to her gift. I was doing the “spirit good, money bad” thing that so many social activists have done for so long. We couldn’t see the centrality of spiritual hospitality to our ministries. We wanted “doing good” to be more important than it was. If people are not filled spiritually, they won’t be able to do the good that they want to do.”(2)

          Our sacred space, the music we make, the words we preach, all contribute to our dimension of height – drawing our attention to the One greater than ourselves.

          That brings us to our third dimension – Depth, which can represent discipleship over the long haul. Most of us can take one of Jesus’ teachings from the Sermon on the Mount and do it pretty well for a little while. Being a peacemaker for a day isn’t too hard – but being a peacemaker year after year is another thing altogether. Turning the other cheek occasionally is doable – but for many, making cheek-turning a way of life requires a great commitment. Even praying for those who are a pain in the neck sometimes is possible – but being kind and charitable toward difficult people on a permanent basis requires significant energy and spiritual depth.

          The prophet Habakkuk had something to say about this. He says “The righteous live by their faith”, or in some translations, “their faithfulness.”

          Remaining faithful is not the most exciting posture in today’s world, which favors instant gratification. Pastor and author Eugene Peterson writes: “One aspect of the world that I have been able to identify as harmful to Christians is the assumption that anything worthwhile can be acquired at once. We assume that of something can be done at all, it can be done quickly and efficiently… There is a great market for religious experience in the world; there is little enthusiasm for the patient acquisition of virtue, little inclination to sign up for a long apprenticeship in what earlier generations of Christians called “holiness.”

          To give us a way to think about what perseverance in the Christian life is, Peterson borrows a phrase from the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and describes the Christian life as “a long obedience in the same direction.”(3) Paul put it a different way when he said “Let us not get tired of doing good, because in time we’ll have a harvest if we don’t give up.”

          Building a dimension of depth in our spiritual life is all about remaining faithful – a long obedience in the same direction.

          On Easter Sunday, 2014, after 170 years on Mount Hope Avenue in Rochester, New York – South Presbyterian Church voted to sell it’s historic building. Voting on Easter was no accident – they liked the symbolism of resurrection. “To commemorate the sale of the property, we held a combined service in August,” said the Rev. Deborah Fae Swift, South Presbyterian’s pastor. “We presented the owners, a Free Methodist congregation with the keys, and the trowel that was used to lay the buildings cornerstone in 1894, and used again when we expanded the church in the 1920’s.”

          “None of us regrets selling,” she said. “Sometimes people from other churches will approach one of us with an “I’m so sorry for you” tone of voice – which catches all of our members of guard. Our evangelism coordinator has the best response. She likes to say, “Don’t be sorry. We’re not. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us. We have energy and we are unencumbered with repairs and upkeep…”

          The 40 or so members of South Presbyterian touched nearly 500 lives last year in Rochester through 16 active, member-led Acts of Faith community groups(4)

          They don’t have a building anymore – but they’re not tired of doing good. They are remaining faithful, and continue to pay attention to the dimension of depth in their spiritual lives.

          The common thread in all of this is that though life may be hard, and there may be troubles, and evildoers will sometimes come out on top – steady faithfulness to God, enduring trust in God’s assurance, persevering reliance on God’s strength, a long obedience in the Lord’s direction, holy living every day – whatever we choose to call it – is the way to go.

          Depth is the church’s ongoing faithfulness. That depth depends on the church’s height – its vertical connection to Almighty God – and it pushes us to be a people of breadth as well.

          If we’re going to print a 3 dimensional church, let it be a church with breadth, height and depth.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved 10/24/19

2.    Ibid.

3.    Ibid.

4.    Ibid.

11-3-19 The Tax Man in the Tree

Thomas J Parlette

“The Tax Man in the Tree”

Luke 19: 1-10

11/3/19

Hello, You’ve reached the telephone assistance center of the IRS – Israel Revenue Service. My Name is Zaccheus. How may I assist you today?

Pause

Yes, that’s right – Zaccheus. The name means “pure” and “innocent.”

Pause

I understand your laughter, ma’am. I really do. I know most people don’t think of IRS agents as pure and innocent. So – where are you calling from?

Pause

Jericho. Excellent. Great place. Lots of history. Occupied by our ancestors when they crossed the Jordan River and entered the Promised Land. I live there, too, you know.

Pause

Yes, Ma’am, I am a Jew. Just like you.

Pause

No, I am not a dirty, rotten Roman.

Pause

Yes, you’re right – I work for the Romans, but I am still a Jew. The Romans took Jericho about 90 years ago, without much resistance. Like, what were we supposed to do against the most powerful army in the world? They can pretty much march in and take whatever they want.

Pause

Noooo, wait a minute, you’re not listening. I am NOT defending Rome – I’m just reviewing history. General Mark Antony had an estate here, and he liked it so much that he gave it to Cleopatra. After the two of them committed suicide, Augustus gave the estate to Herod and here we are.

Pause

 No Ma’am, I am not a fan of Herod – not in the least. I remember that he was so jealous of his brother-in-law that he had him drowned in a pool right here in Jericho!

Ma’am, may I put you on hold?

Press imaginary button and speak to the congregation

I don’t know why I get so much criticism from my own people. I do my best to keep the 10 commandments, and it’s not like I’ve murdered anyone. Some people think I steal, but tax-collecting is a tricky business. I know for a fact that many of my neighbors have cheated on their taxes!

I think the reason I get so much criticism is that I am the CHIEF tax collector – and I’m rich. I oversee all of the tax collectors for this area, so I have a team of people who collect taxes, tolls and tariffs from Jews – my people. But someone’s got to do it. Would they prefer a Roman collect taxes from them? The system is open to abuse, I know, and people like me are assumed to be dishonest. But most of all, we are hated because we cooperate with Rome. But look – I got to make a living, right!

Press imaginary button and return to call

Thank you for waiting Ma’am. Now, how can I help you?

Pause

Yes, I can help with that. I’m very good with numbers, so I can calculate your tax for you. When do you need this completed?

Pause

“Maybe never” you say? I don’t understand – Why is that?

Pause

I see. You don’t think you’ll have to pay taxes to Rome because Jesus has come. Yes, I have heard people calling him the “Son of David.” They hope he will lead an army like a sort of new King David and drive the Romans out. But ma’am, I have to be honest with you – I think that’s a stretch! I’ve seen the strength and the brutality of the Roman army, up close. Jesus and Jewish army wouldn’t stand a chance!

Pause

No, Ma’am, I’m not on Rome’s side. I’m just more interested in Jesus as a religious leader. He healed the servant of a Roman centurion. He forgave a sinful woman. He healed a boy with a demon. Best of all, I hear that he is a friend of tax collectors and sinners. That’s exactly what I need.

Pause

Yes, ma’am – Jesus is a friend of outcasts. I think that’s GOOD News.

Pause

I hear what you’re saying, but do you have a minute? I’d like to tell you about what just happened to – Just yesterday. I looked out my window and I saw a crowd heading for town. I joined them and asked a man what was going on. He ignored, because you know – tax collector. Instead, he turned to a friend of his and said, “I hear that Jesus has just healed a blind beggar! Can you believe it? You know the guy I’m talking about – that disgusting beggar who always sits in the dirt outside of town. People are saying that he is now following Jesus into Jericho, with a spring in his step.”

I got excited when I heard this. Jesus had healed a man who was reviled as any tax collector. But as we approached the edge of town, my heart sank. The sides of the road were packed with people, five deep. I began to work my way along the edge of the crowd, but I couldn’t see a thing, even when I hopped up and down. Although I may sound tall on the phone, I’m only 4 feet 11 inches.

Pause

You say that I DON’T sound tall on the phone?

Pause

Anyway, I knew I needed a plan, so I looked to where Jesus would probably enter Jericho. I ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree with large, low branches – perfect for climbing. I knew people would laugh at me. It’s very undignified for a grown man to run anywhere. Running is for kids. And a man of importance would never climb a tree. It’s humiliating. But I didn’t care. I wanted to see Jesus.

The crowd continued to swell, and I was glad that I had my vantage point in the tree. I could see over the heads of everyone along the road, even the men and women who were looking up at me and laughing. I heard one of them say, “Hey look up there, it’s the tax man, Zacchaeus, up in a tree! He may be rich, but he looks like an idiot!

Pause

Yes, you’re right, I probably did look like an idiot. Then Jesus and his entourage appeared. I had never seen Jesus before, but I immediately picked him out in the middle of his disciples. They were moving quickly, with a sense of urgency, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea as they passed through town on their way to Jerusalem.

As Jesus reached the sycamore tree, he turned his head up and looked straight into my eyes. I was so shocked that I almost lost my grip and fell out of the tree. Then he said, “Zaccheaus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” I tell you, I did not see that coming. The crowd was silent. People looked at Jesus and they looked at me, back and forth, wondering what in the world he was doing. Why was Jesus talking to someone like me? – not to mention actually going to my house – scandalous!

I scrambled down the tree, almost flipping upside down when my robe got caught on in a branch, but somehow I managed to reach the ground without breaking anything. I pushed my way through the crowd until I found Jesus. He was taller than me, but not by much. I threw my arms around him saying, “Welcome, welcome. A thousand Welcomes.” I was so honored that a man like Jesus wanted to stay with me.

The crowd was still stunned, but they were no longer silent. They knew that Jesus was breaking the code of purity by going to the house of a tax collector. In addition, he was honoring a man who just humiliated himself by running and climbing up a tree. I could hear the people grumbling – “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner. For shame. For shame.”

But Jesus said nothing. He just smiled at me and looked at me like I was the only person in the crowd.

The silence was awkward, so I broke it by saying, “Look, half of my possession, I will give to the poor – and if I have cheated anyone of anything, I will pay them back four times as much.” Because Jesus had honored me with his presence, I felt like I needed to make amends. I volunteered to pay people back if they felt like I took advantage of them.

Jesus smiled and said “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” I could hardly believe it – Jesus had restored my good status by calling me a “son of Abraham.” He had broken through my isolation by seeking me out and saving me. As long as I live, I’ll never be able to do enough to pay him back. But I am going to try. Each and every day. And that is why I want to help you, ma’am. I want to do your taxes right and fair.

Pause

No ma’am, I’m not trying to be a hero. JESUS is the hero, because he reached out to me and made me his friend. Wherever you are in your loneliness and isolation, he’ll do the same for you. All you….

Pause

Where can you find Jesus?

Pause

Well, Jesus is just about everywhere. He will probably find you. Thing is, when you want to find Jesus, that’s sort of the moment you’ll find him. It’s like what God said through Jeremiah – “When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me.” So all you have to do is take the risk of moving toward Jesus. He will call you his friend. I guarantee that you will be thankful that he breaks through your loneliness. And you’ll want to spend the rest of your life wanting to make him proud that he knows you.

So if this call has been helpful to you, please stay on the line for a short survey.

Hello, this is Zaccheaus at the IRS… How may I help you?

Stand

May God be praised.  “Amen’

This script was downloaded from Homileticsonline, retrieved October 21st, 2019

10-27-19 To the Overconfident

Thomas J Parlette

“To the Overconfident”

Luke 18: 9-14

10/27/19

          There was once a 5 year old girl who was asked to say grace at the family dinner table. Usually a short, memorized prayer was the custom, but this little girl was intent on offering an original prayer based on this particular meal. So with hands folded, head bowed, and one eye open, scanning the table, she prayed;

          “Thank you God… that Mom mashed potatoes and made gravy.

          Thank you, God… that there are enough rolls for me to have 2.

          I don’t thank you God, for the green beans! They’re gross.

          Amen.”(1)

          Sounds a little like one of the prayers we overhear this morning.

          Luke makes it clear right from the start why Jesus tells this story about a Pharisee and a tax collector - “He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”

          So Jesus is addressing those who were overconfident in their ability to be holy, who trusted in themselves to be good and godly people. He was telling this story to the ones whose ego led them to believe that they were better than everyone else.

          Maxie Dunham, a seminary professor and a prolific writer, likes to tell the story of the University of Tennessee football coach who bought a bolt of cloth thinking he would have a suit made out of it. This particular coach took great pride in his appearance, as well as his football reputation, and he liked to look good when he spoke to alumni groups. So he took the material to his tailor in Knoxville where the University of Tennessee is located. The tailor measured him, examined the bolt of cloth, did some computations on a piece of paper, and said, “I’m sorry coach, there just isn’t enough material in this bolt to make a suit for you.” The coach was disappointed, but he threw the cloth in the trunk of his car, wondering what he was going to do with it.

          A couple of weeks later, this same coach was in Tuscaloosa, Alabama – the home of the Crimson Tide, arch enemies of the Tennessee Volunteers. He was on his way to the coast for a vacation. Driving down the main street in Tuscaloosa, he noticed a tailor shop, which reminded him that he had that bolt of cloth in the trunk. So he stopped, thinking he would give it a shot.

 He told the tailor he had bought this cloth and wondered if he could do anything with it. The tailor measured the coach, measured the cloth, and did some computations. Finally he said, “Coach, I can make you a suit out of this bolt. What’s more, I can make you an extra pair of pants. And if you really want it, I can give you a vest out of this too.”

The coach was dumbfounded. “I don’t understand,” he said. “My tailor in Tennessee told me he couldn’t even make one suit out of this bolt of cloth.”

And the tailor said, “Coach, here in Alabama, you are not nearly as big a man as you are in Tennessee.”(2)

A blow to the coach’s ego, I’m sure. And I’m sure this story about the Pharisee, standing by himself so as not to rub elbows with his fellow worshippers, and praying loudly so everyone could hear what a wonderful person he was, was also a blow to egos of the overconfident followers in the crowd.

In telling this story, Jesus wanted his followers to understand that when they compare themselves to others, religion turns into a competition. He wanted his hearers to understand they were wasting their lives and missing out on the truth of God by looking down on others because of their religious practices. God is not about religion – God is about relationships. And it’s a mistake to define ourselves by what we are not, instead of by who God is. We were made in the image of God. If we accept Jesus Christ as our Savior, we are adopted into God’s family and are children of God. So our identity is not based on comparing ourselves to others. Our identity is not even based on our right actions. Our identity is based on who God is.

Self-righteousness is not the same thing as holiness. The Pharisee made the mistake of comparing himself to other people. “God, I thank you that I am not like other people…” It’s tempting to do that sometimes – especially when in comparison we look pretty good.

In all honesty, the Pharisee did look good compared to the tax collector. Pharisees were members of a strict religious order. They devoted their lives to observing the rules and statutes of Jewish religious law. They were the gold standard for righteousness in their society.

The tax collector, on the other hand, was a traitor to his own people because he worked for the Roman government in a capacity that allowed him to cheat and oppress his fellow Jews by adding on extra taxes to line his own pockets. The profession encouraged corruption. Tax collectors were considered traitors and extortionists. They were not allowed to be witness or judges in court because they were considered untrustworthy. They were excommunicated from the synagogue.

The Pharisee thought he was all right in comparison to the tax collector. But the tax collector wasn’t who he was in competition with. His competition was the man he himself was created to be. The Pharisee’s prayer showed there was a gaping hole in his life – he didn’t really know God. We can do everything right in life, keep all the rules of our religion, and still not know God.

Another important point Jesus wants to make is that we are dependent on God – God is not dependent on us. Consider what the other character in this story does. The tax collector doesn’t feel worthy to participate in worship, he stands apart, looks down at the ground and beats his chest in sorrow and prays “God be merciful to me, a sinner.” In fact, the word used here is “hilaskomai” – which actually means “an atoning sacrifice.” So what the tax collector literally prays is “God, be the atoning sacrifice for me, a sinner.” His prayer echoes King David’s words in Psalm 51: “My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”

In C.S. Lewis’ fantasy story The Great Divorce, a busload of people from Hell are driven to the gates of Heaven and offered admission, but with one exception, they all refuse it. The people in Heaven are so radiant and so substantial that they make the visitors from Hell look like mere shadows.

One pale ghost from Hell wanders through the gates into Heaven. He is upset when he meets a citizen of Heaven he knew in his previous life. This heavenly citizen had worked for him, and had not been a great guy. In fact, he had committed a murder during his life on earth. How dare he live in Heaven now! He hadn’t earned that right.

The citizen from Hell complains, “Look at me, now. I gone straight all my life. I don’t say I was a religious man and I don’t say I had no faults, far from it. But I done my best all my life, see?... That’s the sort of chap I was. I never asked for anything that wasn’t mine by rights. If I wanted a drink, I paid for it, and if I took my wages, I done my job, see?... I’m asking for nothing but my rights… I’m not asking for anybody’s bleeding charity.”

The heavenly citizen looks him in the eye and says, “Then do. At once. Ask for the bleeding charity.”(3)

The tax collector asked for the charity - “God, be merciful to me, be the atoning sacrifice for me, a sinner.” And God will grant the charity. God will offer grace.

Jesus finishes the parable by saying, “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Justification, forgiveness, righteousness, grace – they do not come from anything we do or anything that we offer God. No, all those things can only come from God.

The Pharisee was right about the Kind of life he should live. That’s not the problem here. The problem is he is confused about the source of that life. He is not the source – God is the source. The tax collector knows something that the Pharisee does not – his life is God’s – his past, present, and future are entirely dependent on God’s grace and mercy.

Our true confidence is that God is pleased to offer forgiveness, mercy and grace to all God’s children.

And for that, may God be praised. Amen.

1.    JoAnn A. Post, Christian Century, October 9th, 2019, p19.

2.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXV, No.4.

3.    Ibid.

10-20-19 Our Ministry Together

Our Ministry Together

Rev. Jay Rowland

Sunday October 20, 2019,

First Presbyterian Church, Rochester MN

Text: 2 Timothy 3:1-4:5 

Hi everyone, I’m Timothy.   

Yes: that Timothy!   

Your associate pastor recently noticed that he has somehow managed to overlook me in all his studies of Scripture.  He noted rather abashedly to me that he knows next to nothing about me other than my name attached to the two letters from Paul.  So he worried, if this is true for him chances are he’s not the only one.  So he asked me to speak to you today.  Who better to talk about Paul’s final letter? After all, he wrote it TO ME! 

So where to start?  Well, I’m a third generation Christ—um, what’s the term you all use …  Christ-ee-yun?  Third generation is hardly impressive to you given that you all must be, what, double-digit generation Christ-eens. But back in my day we were quite rare I assure you.  You moderns assume that passing on this faith in Jesus Christ from one generation to the next was automatic back in my day. Not true.   

People tell me this is also the case for you folks in the 21st Century too.  Interesting ...  

The fact that I’m a believer at all and a follower of Jesus Christ is somewhat miraculous.  My father was a Greek, a gentile—what you folk call, oh what’s that funny word you moderns use for this: zeroes? Wait no: nones that’s it, n-o-n-e-s; I’ve also heard spiritual not religious-whatever that means.  Anyway, that’s my father. But my grandmother Lois and my mother Eunice were both faithful Jews. They raised me to be a faithful Jew just like them. Thanks to them I know the Scriptures backward and forward.   

As my mother tells the story (I’ve been hearing this since my youngest days): one day by the grace of God grandma met a man named Paul at synagogue. She was immediately drawn to Paul’s preaching and teaching of Scripture (Mom adds that grandma also admired Paul’s chutzpah). They shared a love for Torah and what you folks call “the Old Testament” (we call it Scriptures).   

Grandma was most intrigued by Paul’s testimony regarding Jesus of Nazareth. She’d heard people talk about Jesus before, but not like Paul.  Paul showed grandma how Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s covenant--not only to Jews like us but to everyone, even my father too! … all of humanity!  Grandma took her time pondering and Paul respected her for that.  One day Paul shared his own conversion experience.  According to mom, that’s when grandma said, “count me in.”  My mom met Paul too and over time was equally convinced.  

So it was probably inevitable that my life merged with Paul’s. He’s been like a father to me for as long as I can remember.  As an adult I’ve worked with Paul for, gosh, it must be at least twenty years now [1] -- let me think-must have been about ‘46—yeah that sounds right I hit the road with him back in ‘46 (that’s the year zero, zero, forty-six!).  Paul participated in my ordination service with the church elders. I was blown away by their consensus that God was calling me to accompany Paul on his missionary travels.  Paul relied heavily upon me as we went from town to town.  From the middle of all the trouble in Corinth to the wonders of the church in Thessalonica.  Given the troubled leadership and false teachings in Ephesus, Paul and the elders decided someone should stay long-term and I’ve been there ever since.  I fully realize now just how much I’ve learned about people and all of the practical problems and issues involved with passing along the faith in Jesus Christ in places where he’s unknown, also supporting the new generations.  

I have many astonishing stories from traveling with Paul all these years but I’ve been told I get only a sliver of a shadow on the sun-dial. I hate to skip any of it, but it’ll have to wait. There’s something more important I must address right now.  I have to tell you: I’m quite shaken after reading the final paragraphs of this letter from Paul.   

He has been in prison for years. I don’t mean those other times he’s been in prison.  I mean he’s been in the same prison in Rome. We heard Paul was previously set free but with strict orders to stop proclaiming Jesus and teaching Scripture.  Paul would never stop, so of course he was arrested again.  But no word from him for at least a year, maybe longer.  Please understand, life in a Roman prison is terminal.  The damp, dark, unsanitary conditions and occasional food and water can kill the strongest, healthiest person.  But we know he has endured repeated beatings and torture.  So far he’s avoided the executioner’s ax only because of his reputation in the synagogue and with his status as a Roman citizen.  I don’t expect that to last much longer.

So I’m relieved to hear directly from him that he’s still alive, but my mind is racing and reeling.  In his final paragraphs Paul implies that this is his last stop in this world. There’s an urgency to his words we’ve not seen in any of his other letters.  He’s calling me to Rome before winter (summer just started here so if I leave now I might make it in time before winter and the end of travel season).  I take comfort in his request to bring his heavy coat and his scrolls because this assures me that expects to see me again. It also shows me that his hope and faith are as strong as ever.  Even so, we realize there are no guarantees in life.  

I knew this day would come one day, but now that it’s here I don’t know if I’m ready.  This changes everything.  For me.  For every community we’ve visited.  For the future.  This final letter from him is an absolute treasure. He provides wisdom, instruction and knowledge that I’ll need - that we’ll all need - to continue what he started. This letter gives us good counsel for how to transmit our received tradition (Apostolic), how to organize and revitalize faith communities (churches) and their leadership, but maybe most important: Paul’s rigorous resistance to false teaching (p.11).  You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff we’ve seen being offered as faith instruction these days.  Some are teaching that the Resurrection is a lie; others that salvation is only for a select few (usually self-appointed) who exhibit special (agreed-upon) knowledge or standard(s). Paul says all of that stuff insults God whose Love for all in the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ is hiding in plain sight, no special knowledge or spiritual standards required. 

Together Paul and I have seen up-close just how confusing and dangerous the world has become. We’ve felt the brute force and manipulation authorities are willing to use. We breathe the air of suspicion and distrust they’ve created.  Uncertainty and fear is stealing the hope of good people everywhere, and, worse, their compassion.  We see how easily the church can appear irrelevant or disinteresting to younger generations.  

I know I’m just passing through here, but what I can see here in the 21st century, our concerns from the first century are still valid.  Paul’s final instructions still apply to the living of these days too.  Notice there’s no panic in him. Not even in prison.  Paul’s deep and abiding trust is that The Lord will rescue him, and the church, from any and every threat just as the Lord has always done. Paul stresses the importance of our continued, personal involvement.  It’s the way Jesus loves to show up when he’s most needed.  This makes us the lifeline Jesus relies upon to be extended into every place and circumstance of human need. 

If I could choose one idea to underscore from Paul’s final letter it’s his command that you and I continue to DO ONE THING:   

Preach

the

Word   

I can hear what you’re thinking, “who me? Yeah right! No way, not me.” To which I (and Paul) say, “yes way!  yes, YOU”     

I learned early on from Paul that we all preach something every day--we’re just not aware that we do. The choices we make each day—what we spend our time and our money on, the way we treat others, the people we choose to spend our time with, etc., these daily choices preach some kind of gospel message. So it’s not whether or not we preach but which gospel are we preaching: the gospel of Self or the Gospel of God? 

Paul always says the greatest gift God gave us aside from Jesus himself is Scripture.  It equips us, sustains us, engages us, unites us.  Oh, I know: “Scripture has issues,” but that’s not so much a problem for God as it’s a problem for people. Imperfection has never bothered God. God has always worked through imperfection, whether it’s human imperfection and limitations, imperfect timing, imperfect attitudes and assemblies, even the imperfections and limitations of Scripture!  

Listen to what he wrote, “every Scripture that’s God-inspired (the Greek wording literally means God-breathed; so Paul is NOT saying all Scripture is useful, etc. but every God-breathed scripture) is useful for teaching, for (recognizing) mistakes, for correcting, and for training character, so that the person who belongs to God can be equipped to do everything that is good… (2 Tim 3:16-17) 

Look I know that millennia have passed since Paul’s letter, but people are still people.  The dangers of the world of my time are, practically speaking, much the same here in your time.  Perhaps the only thing that’s changed is people’s expectations.  Perhaps people stopped expecting God to show up.  I see how the historical record discourages people from trusting the Grace and Love of God.  But I also see that God is faithful—in every generation.  God’s faithfulness is revealed by your presence here today.  The issues may differ but the overall dangers remain strikingly similar.  And the most important thing: the Lord is faithful to the end. Paul reminds us:

These are dangerous times. So remain faithful to what you have been taught. You know they are true, for you know you can trust those who taught you. You have been taught the holy Scriptures from childhood, and they have given you the wisdom to receive the salvation that comes by trusting in Christ Jesus. 

These aren’t empty words.  Paul did this. Paul lived these ideas.  It’s how Paul endured the worst that life can bring.  And if there’s anyone who had an excuse to give up and just become bitter, withdrawn and isolated, IT’S PAUL.  Even in that horrible dungeon, all alone, Paul went deeper into his trust in Jesus.  We can learn from Paul: he placed all of his hope on Jesus. We CAN DO as Paul did: entrusting his life and even his death to the One who rescued him from every danger, toil and snare. 

The very least we can do to honor this letter: Paul’s effective “last will and testament” is preach the good news use words if necessary!  Share the saving love of Jesus to all of God’s people everywhere.  

And they are everywhere.  Your scrolls and your pocket-windows show only the most desperate people and situations.  But all of us know people who are traumatized or deceived or living in fear or suffering oppression from some thing or some one.  Threats from every quarter are breathing fire upon all of us. But that’s how it’s always been for God’s people. It was no different for Jesus, or his disciples, or the Apostles, or any church.  Jesus proved that God’s love shall conquer all.  Paul believed that with his life.  Don’t give in to despair.  It’s our turn to water and nurture each “plant”—that is, each church.  We do this every time we care for any of God’s harassed and wounded people.  As we persist preaching love--with or without words—we join with people from every time and place who have gone before us, sharing God’s love, which is now and ever shall be, until the Day of Christ, our ministry together. 

[1] Thomas C. Oden, First and Second Timothy and Titus; Interpretation Bible Commentary, p.4.  This is the source of all factual, detailed elements in this sermon; hereafter indicated in the sermon body by parenthetical page numbers. 

10-13-19 A Eucharistic Life

Thomas J Parlette

“A Eucharistic Life”

Luke 17: 11-19

10/13/19

          One the day the boss called one of his young employees named Rob into his office.

          “Rob,” he said, “you’ve been with the company for a year now. You started off in the mailroom, one week later you were promoted to a sales position, one month after that you were promoted to district manager of the sales department, and just four short months later, you were promoted to vice-chairman. Now it’s time for me to retire, and I want you to take over the company. What do you have to say to that?”

          “Thanks,” said Rob.

          “Thanks?” the boss replied. Just “Thanks?!” Is that all you can say? You don’t seem very grateful.”

          “Okay, okay – Thanks, Dad” (1)

          Sometimes we are not as grateful as we could be. Maybe we don’t show our thanks because we think we’ve earned what we receive, or we somehow we deserve what comes our way. Some people go through life with a bit of an entitlement complex. Or maybe you feel like Jerry Seinfeld, when he took a stand against what we felt was all the “over –thanking” required in our society.

          And yet gratitude, a sense of thankfulness, a fondness for giving out praise is at the heart of a healthy spiritual life – and certainly at the heart of a healthy Christian life.

          Karl Barth was fond of saying that the basic human response to God is gratitude – not fear and trembling, not guilt and dread, but thanksgiving. “What else can we say to what God gives us but stammer praise?”

          C.S. Lewis, as he explored his newfound faith, observed the Bible’s, particularly the Psalter’s, insistence that we praise and thank God. He also observed the connection between gratitude and personal well-being. “I noticed how the humblest and at the same time most balanced minds praised most; while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised least. Praise almost seems to be inner health made audible.” (2)

          Praise and thanksgiving are the really the primary thing we do when we gather to worship every Sunday. In our prayers, in our preaching, in our singing, we seek to do two things

-         We express our thanks to God

-         And we give God praise.

In fact, Martin Luther once defined worship as “the tenth leper turning back”, in reference to the story we heard from Luke this morning.(3)

This is an interesting story, one that only Luke tells. It is once again part of Jesus’ travel narrative. He is getting closer to Jerusalem, in fact he’s almost there. Today, Jesus and his followers are in the region between Samaria and Galilee, kind of a no man’s land. There wasn’t much there.

There was however some sort of a village, because as Jesus and his entourage enter, a group of lepers, condemned to live isolated from others because of their skin diseases, approach him and say “Jesus, Master; have mercy on us!”

Jesus see them from a distance and tells them to go show themselves to the priests – the first step on the way to joining the community again. Jesus never touches them, he doesn’t make any mud to spread on them, he doesn’t say any incantation like “talitha cum”. He just sends them off to see the priest, and as they went, they were made clean.

So up to now, we think – “Ok, this is a healing story. We’ve seen stories like this many times with people healed of blindness, lameness, crippling spinal ailments or unstoppable bleeding. The healing must be the point of the story.

But this isn’t really a healing story. Notice that the actual healing takes place offstage, out of sight, on the road as the lepers made their way to the priests. So the healing – although part of the story- is not the point of the story.

The point of the story revolves around the one leper, a Samaritan leper to boot, who comes running back onstage to praise God and offer thanks. The greek words here are “doxazo” – praise, from which we get doxology; and “eucharisto”, from which we get eucharist, meaning to give thanks. What happens for us to see onstage, in full view, is the thanks and praise offered to God.

It’s interesting that the lepers use the term “Master” when they first call out to Jesus. This title is used only 6 times in the New Testament, all of them for Jesus, all in Luke and all prior to this story. And each time the title Master comes from the lips of a disciple.(4) So, a title previously reserved for use by the disciples, the insiders, is now used by these lepers, the ultimate outsiders. And the leper who is the star of the story, the one who returns to offer the thanks and praise due to God – is a Samaritan! You can almost hear the gasps echoing over 2000 years.

So Jesus not only crosses the borders of Galilee and Samaria, but also the borders between who is in and who is out.

Who may have faith? – Anyone, not just Jews.

Who can act in faith? – Anyone, even a Samaritan.

Who can receive healing and salvation? – Anyone. Anywhere, from any background.

This passage calls us to live a Eucharistic life – a life of thanksgiving and gratitude to God. Loud, humble, enthusiastic, uninhibited gratitude is one of the defining marks of a Christian.

John Burkhart once wondered whether “humans can survive as humans without worshiping. To withhold acknowledgment, to avoid celebration, to stifle gratitude, may prove as unnatural as holding one’s breath.”(5)

Dr. Tom Long tells about a time when he was having one of those frustrating days when he had more things to do than he could possibly accomplish. So he was in a foul mood as he rushed through the store. It didn’t improve his mood to get behind a mother and her young son who were playing games as they strolled nonchalantly down the grocery store aisles.

After passing the mother and son several times, Long noticed that the boy was mentally challenged. As he watched them, he couldn’t help but notice that the mother had turned their shopping trip into a game, a game that allowed her son to participate in hunting down grocery items. They seemed to be having a wonderful time. Much impressed and in a far better mood, Long decided to engage the mother in conversation.

“I was just admiring your relationship with your son,” he said.

And the mother smiled and said, “Oh yes, he is a gift from God.”(6)

She was living a eucharistic life – a life of thanksgiving and gratitude.

As this story ends, Jesus wonders aloud about what happened to the other 9, why they didn’t return to practice a Eucharistic life – but he sends the Samaritan leper, now healed, on his way saying, “Get up and go – your faith has made you well.”

You have healing. You have restoration. You have offered thanks and praise. Now you have salvation. Get and go – continue living a Eucharistic life.

There is a wonderful story about the famed actress of a few decades ago, Betty Hutton. Hutton was an award-winning movie star who also found fame on Broadway and in television and radio. But she suffered from depression and an addiction to alcohol and drugs. In 1970, she had a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide. Through the spiritual guidance of a priest, she gave up her addictions, gave her life to Jesus and straightened out her life.

Ten years later, in 1980, Hutton returned to show business in the Broadway musical Annie. All the other cast members of Annie had detailed biographies of their lives and careers printed in the program. It was common to include all your film and stage credits, maybe naming your favorite roles, giving thanks to your teachers and dedicating your performance to a loved one. But Betty Hutton didn’t include any of her major motion pictures, none of her awards, none of her starring roles on Broadway. Betty Hutton’s cast biography consisted of just 5 words: “I’m back. Thanks to God.”(7)

“I’m back. Thanks to God.” That’s the leper story, isn’t it? That’s our story as well – “I’m back. Thanks be to God.”

That is a eucharistic life. A life marked by praise, thanksgiving and gratitude. May that be the kind of life we all live. May God thanked – and praised. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved 10/2/19.

2.    John M. Buchanan, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox, 2010, p165.

3.    Beverly Zink-Sawyer, Feasting on the Gospels, Westminster John Knox Press, 2014, p120.

4.    Richard W. Voelz, Connections, Westminster John Knox Press, 2019, p388.

5.    Kimberly Bracken Long, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p168.

6.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXV, No.4, p8.

7.    Ibid… p8.

10-6-19 Enough Faith

Thomas J Parlette

“Enough Faith”

Luke 17: 5-10

10/6/19, World Communion

          Did you know that every time you take a step, you generate six to eight watts of energy? But then – poof – it dissipates into the air. But wouldn’t it be something if you could capture that energy and harness it’s power?

          There is an architectural firm in London which has been looking into ways to capture that kind energy on a large scale and turn it into electricity. For example, 34,000 people walk or dash through Victoria Station in one hour, rushing toward their trains. That’s a lot of steps. If you could harness that energy you could actually generate a very useful power source.

          According to the business journal Fast Company, this architectural firm is working to develop vibration-harvesting sensors. These sensors would be implanted in the structure of train stations, bridges, factories or any other building frequently rattled by commuters, vehicles or machinery. The devices could capture the rumblings of all this activity, turn them into electricity, and then store it in a battery. Just goes to show that there is power in small steps.(1)

          Power in small places and small things. That is one of the points Jesus makes in this passage from Luke this morning.

          These verses are part of a larger passage that begins chapter 17 of Luke. Jesus is continuing on what is known as the “journey narrative” of Luke. He is travelling from Galilee in the north, down south towards Jerusalem. On the way he is teaching his followers. Verse 1-10 are a collection of four sayings or lessons about discipleship.

          These verses, 5-10, are actually part of verses 1-10, but for some reason, our lectionary separates the passage. Most likely that’s because the first four verses are addressed “to Jesus’ disciples” – meaning the crowd of people in general who were following him. This was a different than “the apostles” who are addressed in verses 5-10. The apostles are the 12, the inner circle – and the disciples included everybody else travelling with Jesus.

          The passage begins with Jesus offering some advice to his followers. Occasions for stumbling in the faith are bound to come along, everybody comes up short now and then. But don’t yourself be a stumbling block for others. Don’t get in the way of someone else’s faith. That’s the first saying or lesson

          The second thing Jesus has to say to his followers is about forgiveness. If someone repents of sin, you must forgive. Even if they sin against you 7 times in a day, you must forgive.

          That brings us to the third saying or lesson. Jesus inner circle of 12 apostles heard this teaching, and they must have recognized how difficult that could be, to forgive that generously. So they ask, or actually demand would be a better word, “Increase our faith!”

          It’s easy to hear Jesus’ answer as him scolding his apostles – and by extension, us – for a lack of faith. Somewhere along the line most Christians seem to have come to expect a steady dose of condemnation from scripture. More often than not, we hear Jesus’ words as shaming and angry words. And it’s true that there are a lot of warnings and do’s and don’ts in the Bible – that’s one of the main reasons I have heard when people explain why they don’t go to church – it’s too negative. Along with such things as “Church is all about guilt and making me feel bad. The church is filled with a bunch of hypocrites.” I know lots of people carry scars of a Bible that has been misused on them. And I don’t want to minimize their experience. But these perceptions are an unfortunate barrier between them and a God who loves them.

          But what if Jesus is not really scolding the apostle at all. What if he is not clucking his tongue and shaking his head over their lack of faith, but speaking these words in a voice of encouragement and love, as one who would give up his life for his friends.

          What if we imagine Jesus with a smile on his face, saying in response to their demand “Increase our faith” – “Why. You have all the faith you need. You do not need more faith. You have enough faith. Even the smallest amount of faith, as small as a mustard seed, is enough to do what God asks.” Understood this way, Jesus isn’t chastising their lack of faith, Jesus is assuring the apostles, and us, that we already have enough faith to do whatever God calls us to do.

          Now we move to the fourth saying that makes up this passage – and it’s quite problematic. Whenever the Bible mentions slaves, it is a sensitive topic. The greek word used here is “doulos”, which can be translated as either slave or servant.(2) Our NRSV bibles go with the word “slave”, which makes this passage particularly hard to hear. Paul is perhaps the most famous biblical figure to talk about slaves, telling the Ephesians “slaves be subject to your masters.” And in the gospel of Luke, Jesus refers to masters and slaves 5 different times. So we should approach these texts carefully.

          In the past, these passage – including this one – have been misused to justify slavery. To be clear, Jesus is not condoning slavery – especially the form of slavery that we have had in the U.S.

          In Jesus time, it was quite common for a household to have slaves or servants who were attached to the household for a certain period of time before their freedom was granted. It is unfortunate that Jesus and Paul did not directly condemn slavery – Paul comes close when he says there is no longer male or female, slave or free, gentile or Jew. But Jesus is certainly not recommending slavery or condoning it. Masters and slaves were just a fact of life in the ancient world. That’s the way things were. Jesus’ teaching style drew on the things that people were familiar with – planting seeds, plowing fields, working in vineyards, drawing water from wells, herding sheep – and yes, the relationship between master and slave or servant.

          So when Jesus asks “Who among you would invite your slave coming in from work to sit at the table with the master and eat,” the obvious answer that everyone knew was “No” – you wouldn’t that. That’s not the servants place to do that. Like wise, part two of the question is self-evident as well. You would say “Make supper, serve me, and then you can eat.” Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded, for that is the job. No, you wouldn’t.

          So the lesson for the apostles is that when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done.”

          This, too, is a problematic saying that just doesn’t hit our ears right. Not only are we still talking about slaves, but now we have the idea of calling ourselves worthless as well. It just doesn’t seem right. In our modern times, the issue of self-esteem and self-worth is an important one. For most of us, I hope, we’ve grown up with the message that we have worth, we have value – and it seems almost offensive to hear Jesus say this.

          But what Jesus is getting at is highlighting the importance of a disciples duty, or calling. Our duty, according to Jesus, is to do God’s will, show God’s way of life to the world, even when it might cost you. That is our duty. That is our calling, if we are true disciples.

          Yes, the metaphors that Jesus uses here, are troubling – and we need to approach them carefully and respectfully.

          I rather prefer the way Paul puts it in the second chapter of Philippians. In the section of his letter that encourages us to imitate Christ’s humble, servant attitude towards life, Paul says – “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” I like that way of putting it rather than thinking of yourself as worthless servant. Jesus’ intention is to point out that we should do our duty to God with a sense of humility.

          You might know the name Albert Pujols – he is a well known baseball player with a World Series ring, an 8 time All Star and 3 time National League MVP. But perhaps even more impressive is what Pujols has done off the field. For one thing, the Pujols Family Foundation he started offers support and care to people with Down Syndrome and their families. The foundation also helps the poor in Pujols’ native Dominican Republic. But Albert Pujols seeks in other ways to practice what he preaches.

          While speaking at an event at Lafayette Senior High School in Missouri, Pujols read Philippians 2:3 to the crowd, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.” And he said, “One way for me to stay satisfied in Jesus is for me to stay humble. Humility is getting on your knees and staying in God’s will – what God wants for me, not what the world wants. It would be easy to go out and do whatever I want, but those things only satisfy the flesh for a moment. Jesus satisfies my soul forever.”(3)

          Albert Pujols takes his duties as a disciple of Jesus seriously – and so lives to do what God would have him do, not what the world would tell him to do.

          As we gather at the table on World Communion Sunday, let us remember that even the smallest amount of faith is enough for God to do remarkable things. So let us take our duty as disciples seriously and do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than ourselves.

          In that, God is pleased.

May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved 9/28.

2.    John Buchanan, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p143.

3.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXV, No. 4, p3-4.

9-29-19 The One Whom God Helps

Thomas J Parlette

“The One Whom God Helps”

Luke 16: 19-31

9/29/19

          I know I’m not the only one in the room who is a fan of the British show on PBS, Downton Abbey. It’s been a big week for Downton fans. The long awaited movie came out last weekend to give us our first fix of new stories about the Abbey and the doings surrounding the Crawley family in the 1920’s, since the show finished production back in 2015. I will say I haven’t seen the movie yet, so don’t tell me any details.

          For the past few Sunday afternoons, Juliet and I have been catching up on the final season of Downton through reruns. Last week there was a surprise visitor to the Abbey for lunch. A former housemaid named Gwen came for lunch with her husband, an upper class gentleman John Dawson.

          When she first arrives, most of the family does not even recognize her. A couple of the ones who knew her best greet her quietly, but the master and lady of the house do not recognize her. Before the meal is over, it is revealed that Gwen used to work as a maid at the Abbey until one of the sisters helped her get a job as a secretary and her life continued to move ahead on a very different course. The family is embarrassed that they didn’t know her when she came in, but they are thrilled for her good fortune.

          Something similar happens in this well-known story from the Gospel of Luke – although it does not end as well. The first part of the story about the Rich man and Lazarus introduces us to the two main characters. First, there is the Rich man, an incredibly self-indulgent character who lives in a gated estate, dresses himself every day in purple robes and fine linen. He no doubt had other clothes, but purple cloth was extremely expensive, and only the truly wealthy could afford it. This guy wanted to make sure everyone knew he had money. In short, he was a clothes horse, with an inner need to constantly remind everyone of his wealth. He also wore fine linen. This is an interesting detail because the word refers to quality Egyptian cotton used to make the best underwear you could buy.(1) When Jesus tells this story, this little detail is a bit of a joke. As he tells it, he does so with a wink and a nod, a wry smile on his face, “This guy not only had expensive robes, but just in case you were wondered, he wore the best underwear too.” It was akin to saying the rich man wore only custom-tailored Italian suits and silk boxers.

          In addition to his fine clothes, the man feasted sumptuously every day. Therefore, he did not observe the Sabbath. His servants were never given a day of rest, so the rich man was publicly violating the Ten Commandments every week. His self-indulgent lifestyle was more important to him than the law of God. The injustice he inflicted on his staff meant nothing to him.

          And then there’s Lazarus, a poor man, covered in sores, who is laid by the gate every day. The rich man ignores Lazarus, never bothers with him at all – a little like the downstairs servants from Downton Abbey. Lazarus is the only individual with a name in all of Jesus parables. Major characters move in and out of the parables, but are never identified by name. The good Samaritan, the Pharisee, the father, the older son and the sower – all famous, but nameless. Lazarus is the sole exception, and therefore his name must be significant.

          The name Lazarus is a Hebrew word that means “the one whom God helps.”(2) Perhaps it’s meant to be ironic, sort of like called a big man “Tiny”, because Lazarus does nothing but lay at the rich man’s gate day after day. He was so sick he could not even stand, and so poor he was reduced to begging. On the surface, he appears to be a person whom God did not help.

          But Lazarus is not completely abandoned. The community around Lazarus apparently respected and cared for him as best they could. The phrase “at his gate lay a poor man” is better translated “a poor man was laid at his gate.”(3) So every day Lazarus had someone who was helping him by taking him to the rich man’s gate. He was, after all, the only man in town with the resources to help Lazarus, so it would make sense to take him there and hope that the rich man or some of his wealthy guests would feel some compassion and give some food or assistance.

          And then we stumble on one of the most graphic details in the story – “the dogs came and licked his sores.” It’s tempting to see this as one more demeaning part of Lazarus’ existence, but it is? A better translation of this phrase would “BUT the dogs came and licked his sores. The word used here, “alla” always indicates a contrast. The NRSV and the NIV state “even the dogs came”, which would place the dogs on the rich man’s side, tormenting Lazarus. But for more than 1000 years most Arabic versions have accurately translated “alla” as a contrast, and thereby emphasized that the dogs were not joining the rich man in tormenting Lazarus(4) – they were doing just the opposite, offering comfort and compassion.

          Dogs lick their own wounds. They lick people as a sign of affection. Recent scientific scholarship has found that dog saliva actually contains antibiotics that facilitate healing. Somehow the ancients discovered that if a dog licked wounds, they would heal more rapidly.

          In fact, in 1994, Professor Lawrence Stager of Harvard University discovered more than 1,300 dogs buried in ancient Ashkelon. The graves dated from the fifth to the third century BC, when Ashkelon was ruled by the Phoenicians. These animals were probably linked to a Phoenician healing cult. The dogs were, in all likelihood, trained to lick wounds or sores and the ailing people would pay a fee to the owners.(5) A little gross, but effective.

          So this rich man will do nothing for Lazarus, but these dogs sense that Lazarus is a kind soul and they do what they can – they lick his wounds.

          Both men die. Lazarus is carried away by the angels to a place of honor with Abraham. The rich man was buried and went to Hades where he was in torment. Part of his torment is the fact that he can lift his eyes and see Abraham and Lazarus way off in the distance.

          The second half of the parable is a dialogue between Abraham and the rich man. Amazingly, the rich man doesn’t even speak to Lazarus. Perhaps the audience is amazed to learn that the rich man knows Lazarus’ name, despite ignoring him all those years. Which just makes him look even more callous and unfeeling. The rich man’s first demand is nothing short of unbelievable. When Lazarus was in pain, he was ignored by the rich man. But now that the tables are turned, the rich man wants action immediately – “Send Lazarus to bring me some water.” Instead of offering an apology, he demands service, as if Lazarus is his waiter in a restaurant.

          At his point we might expect to hear from Lazarus himself. We want to see some revenge, hear Lazarus say something like… “Why should I do anything for you? You never even gave the scraps from your table. Your dogs were nicer to me than you were. You are a terrible person, I’m glad to see you in torment – you deserve it!”

          But Lazarus doesn’t say any of that. In fact, he says nothing. He is quiet. This gentle, long-suffering man has no anger or resentment to express. He seeks no vengeance. Like a New Testament version of Job, Lazarus creates meaning by his response to what happens to him. Lazarus is a model of mercy, as Jesus described when he said, “Love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” Lazarus has his chance at revenge, but he remains quiet, showing kindness an utterly ungrateful and self-absorbed rich man.

          All eyes are on Abraham to see what he will say. “No can do,” says Abraham. “You had your good things in life – now it’s Lazarus’ turn.”

          And then Abraham says something surprising: “And besides all this, between us and you, a great chasm has been fixed, that those who would pass from here to you cannot, and none may come from there to us.”

          The fact of a great chasm is easy enough to understand. But why does Abraham remind the rich man that “those who want to pass from here to you” cannot? Who, for heaven’s sake, would want to journey from heaven to hell? Obviously, Abraham has a volunteer. There’s only one other person on stage. It must be that Lazarus is whispering in Abraham’s ear and saying something like, “Father Abraham, that’s my old neighbor down there. I’ve known him for years. He’s in such pain – I can take him a glass of water, I know how it feels.”(6)

          More of Lazarus’ nature is now revealed. He not only refrains from gloating over the rich man’s well deserved predicament, but shows compassion for his fallen oppressor. Truly stunning!

          So once again, the rich man becomes a beggar. He pleads with Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers to warn them. It is noble of him to show an interest in his brothers, but they are presumably of the same class in society that he enjoyed, and for him such people matter most in the scheme of things, while the poor – like Lazarus – do not. And that doesn’t change, even in the afterlife. The rich man couldn’t use Lazarus as his table waiter, so then he tried to turn him into an errand boy. Once again, no sign of repentance, no hint of an apology. The rich man’s class-structured world remains intact. He still does not see Lazarus as a person.

          “Can’t do that either” says Abraham. “Your brothers have Moses and the prophets, they should listen to them. Even if someone rises from the dead, they will still not get it.”

          A rather stark place to leave the story. This parable is a particularly scary one, especially for those with any semblance of wealth or privilege. Luke’s great reversal theme is certainly at play here. Those who have it easy in this life, will suffer in the afterlife – and those who have nothing now, will be comforted in death. That is one of the interpretations that are possible for this story.

          But there is more we can say.

          This story reminds us that what we do in this life matters. The choices we make in life will follow us to the afterlife. God will judge. As Abraham Heschel teaches, “God is not indifferent to evil.”(7) Evil, self-indulgence and a lack of compassion will be judged.

          We see in this parable that we have a responsibility to notice the need at our doorstep and do something about it.

          But moreover, this story encourages us to answer the question, “How are we to respond to both the grace and the pain of life.” The question is not why do we receive blessings or pain, but rather, what do we do now? What we DO with the good gifts we receive and the pain and disappointment we all run into is what really matters.

          The rich man responded to the good things given to him with self-indulgence, indifference to the needs of others, arrogance and class pride.

          Lazarus responded to is pain with patience, gentleness and implied forgiveness.

          The focus of this parable is not on a form of justice that evens the score in the afterlife, but rather on discovering the ways in which meaning is created by our responses to the good gifts and the suffering that life brings to everyone. Lazarus’ silence is eloquent beyond any words that might be used.

As commentator Alfred Plummer has written: “The silence of Lazarus throughout the parable is impressive. He never murmurs against God’s distribution of wealth nor against the rich man’s abuse of it, in this world. And in Hades, he neither exults over the change of relations between himself and the rich man, nor protests against being asked to wait upon him in the place of torment, or to go run errands for him to the visible world.”(8)

          In the end, Lazarus truly lives up to his name. He was indeed Lazarus – the one whom God helped.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Kenneth E. Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes” Intervarsity Press, 2008, p382.

2.    Ibid…p383.

3.    Ibid…p383.

4.    Ibid…p385

5.    Ibid…p385.

6.    Ibid…p392

7.    Ibid…p396.

8.    Ibid…p396.

9-22-19 Hard to Believe

Thomas J Parlette

“Hard to Believe”

Luke 16: 1-13

9/22/19

          Throughout the history of the Christian Church, this passage has confused, baffled and frustrated every theologian who comes into contact with it. Back in the 1500’s, Tomas deVio Cajetan declared in “unsolvable”. In the 20th century, Rudolf Bultmann agreed with him. In 1936, Charles Torrey wrote that “This passage brings before us a new Jesus, one who seems inclined to compromise with evil. He approves a program of canny self-interest, recommending to his disciples a standard of life which is generally recognized as inferior; “I say to you, gain friends by means of money.” This is not the worst of it; he bases the teaching on the story of a shrewd scoundrel who feathered his own nest at the expense of the man who had trusted him; and then appears to say to his disciples, “Let this be your model!”(1) Hard to believe!

          No less of an authority than St. Augustine himself is said to have remarked about this parable, “I can’t believe this story came from the lips of our Lord.”(2) The parable of the Unjust Steward is indeed hard to believe.

          This passage, as the lectionary presents it, is really at least two separate pieces. The first 8 verses were almost certainly a parable that Jesus actually told. It appears in all our ancient manuscripts and frankly, why would you add this particular story, and attribute it to Jesus, if it weren’t authentic – it’s just too hard to believe.

          The second part of the passage is really a poem on God and mammon, a term usually translated as “money” or “wealth”. There is a very clear break in this passage between the story of the Unjust Steward and the sayings about God and wealth. It’s almost as if Luke had some note cards filled with things Jesus had said and he wanted to work them in somehow. So he very carefully wove the sayings into a 3 stanza poem on trusting in God instead of money, and tacked it on at the end of the story where the master commends the manager because he acted shrewdly.

          So, looking at the parable on it’s own, there is rich man who has a steward, a manager who was looking after his estate, and charges were brought to him that this manager was “squandering his property.” What he has done, we don’t know exactly. Was he stealing? Was he overcharging the tenants? Was he ignoring necessary maintenance on the property? We don’t know. What we do know is that he is going to fired. But first, the rich man asks his estate manager for an
“accounting of his management.” Let me see the contracts, let me see the books. Turn in your computer and gather up your keys.

 But he’s not fired yet. No one knows about the owners intention to get rid of the manager. At least not yet. In this brief exchange between the owner and the estate manager, the manager learns two things about his master…

First – the master expects obedience and judges those who fail him. It’s interesting that the manager never defends himself, he does not dispute the charges. He makes no excuses or arguments whatsoever. He evidently knows he is guilty and he deserves to lose his position. He doesn’t seem interested in changing his masters mind. His only concern is his future, “what’s going to happen to me now? I’m not strong enough to dig and I am too ashamed to beg.”

On the long walk back to the estate, the manager dwells on the second thing he just learned about his master. He discovers that the master is extraordinarily merciful. The master could have fired him on the spot, or worse, had him thrown into jail, but he didn’t do that. He showed mercy and simply asked for an “accounting of your management.” As the manager thought about this, he came up with a plan. He decides to risk everything on the mercy of his master. He figures that when he is dismissed from his position as manager, people might take him in – if he can do something for them.

So he summons each of his master’s tenants, one by one, and meets with them individually. He doesn’t mention that he is going to be fired soon, so none of them have any idea that he doesn’t have the authority to act on the owner’s behalf. In the meetings, the manager reviews what each tenant owes the master – and then reduces their bill. We aren’t told for sure, but we can assume that the tenants were surprised and quite pleased with the new contract.

The tenants in this story would have 1 of 3 different arrangements with the landowner. They would either pay a percentage of whatever crop they were growing or they were expected to pay a set amount. Or, they might just pay rent in cash. Most paid with crops, because the farmers were very poor – they didn’t have the cash to rent the land outright and still have enough to pay for seed and supplies.

It is most likely that these tenants were already committed to a set amount of their crop, no matter what the harvest was like. So when the manager renegotiates the deal, without even being asked to do so – they are thrilled. And the manager can take the credit – “Look what a great deal I got for you…” Think of how grateful the employees of a factory would be if the factory foreman had arranged for generous Christmas bonuses for the workers. The foreman would be a hero.

Word spread quickly around the village that the owner had been very generous and the manager had done right by the villagers. Celebrations no doubt ensued.

The manager finishes his daring plan to make both his master and himself look good, gathers up the freshly changed accounts and delivers them to his master. The master looks them over, he sees what the manager has done – and he reflects on his alternatives. He knows full well that in the local village there has already started a grand celebration in praise of him as the most noble and generous master that ever rented land in their district. He has two alternatives…

1.    He can go back to the tenants and explain that it was all a mistake, that the manager had been dismissed, and thus his actions were null and void. But if the master does this now, the villagers will turn on him and he will be cursed for his stinginess.

2.    Or, he can keep silent, accept the praise that is even now being showered on him, and allow the clever manager to ride high on the wave of popular enthusiasm.

 This master is a generous man. Remember, he did not jail the manager earlier. To be generous is a primary quality of a nobleman in the Middle East. He reflects for a moment, and then turns to the manager and says, “You are a very wise fellow. You’ve acted shrewdly.”

Keep in mind, one of the Old Testament definitions of “wisdom” is an instinct for self-preservation. When the master tells his steward “you are a very wise fellow,” what he means is “you are a survivor.” In a backhanded kind of way, the actions of the manager are a compliment to the master. The manager knew the master was generous and merciful. So he risked everything on that aspect of his master’s nature. And he won. Because the master was indeed generous and merciful, he chose to pay the full price for his manager’s salvation.

When the master commends his manager, he is not praising his dishonesty. He is praising his wisdom in knowing where his salvation lay – in the generous mercy of his master rather than in whatever wealth he might have been able to steal.

On the surface, this parable of the unjust steward is hard to believe. Like St. Augustine, we might think – “I can’t believe Jesus told this story.” But when we consider it’s context and it’s setting, we can see that this parable can be understood as a warning of sorts. Our God is a God of judgment and mercy, like the master in the story. Humanity, like the unjust steward, is guilty of sin and is caught in the crisis of the coming Kingdom. Excuses will not help – you can’t argue with God. Our only option is to entrust everything to the unfailing mercy of our generous God, who will pay the price for our salvation. Jesus was advising his disciples to have that same kind of wisdom. Know where your true salvation lies – not in wealth or money, the mammon of the world, but in God alone.

Yes, that can be hard to believe – and yet it is the truth.

Our salvation is found only in our generous and merciful Lord.

May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Kenneth Bailey, Poet and Peasant and Through Peasant Eyes, combined edition, Wm. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1983, p86.

2.    J. William Harkins, Feasting on the Gospels, Westminster John Knox Press, 2014, p92.

3.    The line of reasoning used for the interpretation of this passage can be found in Kenneth Bailey’s Poet and Peasant and Through Peasant Eyes, combined edition, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1983, p86-118.

9-15-19 Reality Check

Rev. Jay Rowland

Sunday September 15, 2019,

First Presbyterian Church, Rochester MN

Texts: Psalm 14 and Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28 (NRSV)

11 At that time it will be said to this people and to Jerusalem: A hot wind comes from me out of the bare heights[a] in the desert toward my poor people, not to winnow or cleanse— 12 a wind too strong for that. Now it is I who speak in judgment against them.

22 “For my people are foolish,

    they do not know me;

they are stupid children,

    they have no understanding.

They are skilled in doing evil,

    but do not know how to do good.”

23 I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void;

    and to the heavens, and they had no light.

24 I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking,

    and all the hills moved to and fro.

25 I looked, and lo, there was no one at all,

    and all the birds of the air had fled.

26 I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert,

    and all its cities were laid in ruins

    before the Lord, before his fierce anger.

27 For thus says the Lord: The whole land shall be a desolation; yet I will not make a full end.

28 Because of this the earth shall mourn,

    and the heavens above grow black;

for I have spoken, I have purposed;

    I have not relented nor will I turn back.

Reality Check

“First there was nothing. Then there was everything.”

These are the first eight words of a novel I just started reading, The Overstory by Richard Powers. His opening words reminded me of the creation story in Genesis. What a great paraphrase, I thought. First there was nothing. Then there was everything. But I had to postpone further reading of this novel in order to hang out with the prophet Jeremiah. In the passage for today, Jeremiah, if you noticed, also refers to the creation story. What I noticed as the hair stood up on the back of my neck was, I thought I was doing two presumably separate tasks, but both make intriguing allusions to the sacred essence of Creation.

Hanging out with Jeremiah, pondering this passage and his words, I was haunted by the crisis of climate change. I know the original context Jeremiah addressed, but I also hear his words speak to this generation, to this moment in history, hearing him speaking to the unprecedented threat climate change poses to undo Creation.

In every generation, the routines and demands of everyday life in the world filter what people are willing to “see” and whether or not they respond. Unlike previous generations, today we bring a news reporter’s sensibility to life in the world. We’re adept at determining the who, the what, the where and when of most any problem or crisis. But when it comes to responding to information, to understanding the implications we seem less willing or able perhaps to take action.

The prophets of Israel see life in the world differently. The prophet sees human life in the world with its problems and crises through the lens of the Creator and Creation. The prophet seeks to remove the blinders and the complacency brought on by daily routines and demands, to awaken people from conditioned complacency. Contrary to stereotype, a prophet’s “job” is not to predict the future--even if an implied result actually happens. A prophet represents God’s concern, God’s vision and God’s hope. And God’s hope is ultimately that people change, repent, allow God to save us even from ourselves.

Different prophets have their own distinctive vibe, style and technique. But one important feature most of us overlook is that the prophets all “speak” primarily in the language of poetry. I credit Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann for opening my eyes to this detail which has helped me in terms of how I hear and interpret these passages—particularly disturbing passages like we have today.

Brueggemann asserts that here in the 4th chapter, Jeremiah is engaging in “poetic invitation.” Jeremiah “does not want to change political postures … for that is not the work of the poet, but to penetrate the religious indifference … from which policy comes. Thus the language is bold and daring, without responsibility for being factually precise.” (Exile and Homecoming, A Commentary on Jeremiah, Walter Brueggemann, p.56)

In its original context, today’s passage from Jeremiah addresses the generations-long, steady decline of Israel. Particularly the impact of poor leadership from Israel’s kings, accompanied by a long-running, collective neglect of ethical and moral integrity among everyday citizens and believers. As a result, Israel has become indistinguishable from any other nation, content to live like all the other nations rather than as God’s chosen people. It’s the beginning of the end of Israel as God intended, and any hope for the world along with it.

God could tolerate open contempt for only so long. There comes a time when doing nothing or looking away only prolongs and enables the harm. The warning issued through Jeremiah invokes disturbing and harsh metaphors meant to wake up the people and leaders, … a hot wind comes from me out of the bare heights in the desert toward my poor people, not to winnow or cleanse— a wind too strong for that. Now it is I who speak in judgment against them. (Jer. 4:11-12).

The people have squandered God’s blessings and ignored God’s expectation to care for others and the earth. The hot wind is nothing less than a sign that God's anger is kindled against a people who have forgotten who they are and Whose they are,

For my people are foolish

they do not know me;

they are stupid children,

they have no understanding.

They are skilled in doing evil,

but do not know how to do good. (Jeremiah 4:22)

This is a side of God that’s difficult to accept or even acknowledge. The notion that God can be angry is challenging. And yet there it is. And in all fairness to God, to deny God the permission to feel angry seems inauthentic. It might actually be good to sit with the idea that God can be angry and still be benevolent. Brueggemann notes, “for all of God’s considerable passion and compassion, God will not be mocked.” (p52)

Jeremiah along with other prophets in other locations give the people ample warning, but their words are dismissed, ignored. Then something unthinkable happens. Jerusalem and the Temple-where God Almighty was thought to dwell!-is completely destroyed by an invading army. With the fall of Jerusalem comes the literal end of the nation of Israel, as the prophets all lamented. Jerusalem and the Temple are reduced to a pile of rubble.

Jeremiah recounts the Creation Story with which all his listeners were intimately familiar. The sin of Israel has reached a level of chaos unseen since before Creation. The world before its origins was devoid of light. Jeremiah declares that the consequences of sin are not strictly human consequences; human sin can actually disrupt the balance God established in Creation, even the delicate ecological balances which sustain all life. Because of this the earth shall mourn (v.28)

The mourning of earth is a common prophetic/poetic metaphor, Brueggemann notes. It refers to the failure of Israel’s regimes. It was understood that the “royal-temple apparatus” in God’s mind is legitimate only insofar as it preserves and shares the fullness of Creation for the good of all. “The grief (drought) bespeaks the ultimate failure of the regime to maintain the earth.” (Brueggemann, p. 61)

WOW. It’s astonishing to me how clearly Jeremiah speaks to the crisis of climate change. The world’s leaders, particularly ours, have at every level of government--local, national, and international—proven either indifferent at worst or ineffective at best. Meanwhile the atmosphere is slightly more than 400 million parts per something of CO2 gas, fueling a temperature rise in the coming decades of somewhere between two to five degrees, either Celsius or Fahrenheit, allowing for differences among climate scientists (John Holbert, A Return to Chaos? Reflections on Jeremiah, in Patheos, Sept 08, 2013). Whatever the increment, we know the consequences become more cataclysmic with time: mass population dispersion, gigantic storms, droughts and other disruptions to farming and seasons—it’s already begun.

Worst of all, the prophets would wail and lament, the people who live on the front lines of the destructive effects are the poorest and most defenseless people who have the fewest resources or options. None of this is “news.” What might be is to follow that with Jeremiah’s poetic lament alluding to Genesis,

I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void;

and to the heavens, and they had no light.

I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking,

and all the hills moved to and fro.

I looked, and lo, there was no one at all,

and all the birds of the air had fled.

I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert,

and all its cities were laid in ruins

The phrase “waste and void,” in the Hebrew tohubohu is found in only two places in the entire “Old Testament”: Genesis 1:2 (The Creation Story) and here in Jeremiah. In Genesis, tohubohu refers to primordial darkness and chaos, roaring in an endlessly vast nothingness. From that awful void God introduces "light" then all the wonders of Creation, Alleluia!! (Hebrew word exegesis is the work of John Holbert, op cit)

It is nothing short of miraculous to me how powerfully Jeremiah’s words apply to this twenty-first century crisis which would have been beyond even Jeremiah’s wildest imagination. The birds of the air, the fish of the sea, the lush vegetation, the fertile land, human life, all the wonders of Creation—all gone. Nonsense.

And yet here we are. Without concerted change, our grandchildren will be deprived of the generosity of Creation’s earth. The earth they inherit will be markedly different than the earth we now inhabit. We must all become prophets for God, challenging power with truth, convicting hearts for Creation and our Creator. For thus says the Lord: The whole land shall be a desolation; yet I will not make a full end. (Jer. 4:27)

On the brink of despair behold a word of hope shimmers. Here in this bleak verse from an even bleaker passage (and prophet): eight words shimmer and sparkle with a glimmer of hope,

… yet I will not make a full end.

Here is an easily overlooked glimpse into the very heart of God. Here we meet again the God who endlessly seeks ways to "not make a full end". Here in these eight short words stands the God who longs for us to wake up and repent, start doing good, changing our lives to show that we not only see the truth, we will act on it.

The hot wind blows upon the earth. (Holbert)

First there was nothing. Then there was everything.

O Lord, in your mercy, prevent us from ruining everything and turning it all back into nothing.

9-8-19 Counting the Cost

Thomas J Parlette

“Counting the Cost”

Luke 14: 25-33

9/08/2019

           It’s very important to take time to think things through. For instance, there’s a story about a pro football player who wasn’t very fond of curfews when the team was playing on the road. So this player had a routine that he followed whenever his team was in another city. If he wanted to stay out after curfew, he would take whatever he could find loose in his hotel room and cram it under his bed cover so it would look like he was in his room, asleep.

          However, in one hotel there was very little in his room that would fit under the blankets. The only thing he could russle up that was the right size was a floor lamp. So he stuffed the lamp under his covers and headed out for a night of misadventures. The only problem was that an assistant coach came by to do a bed check and when he turned on the light switch, the players bed lit up like a Christmas tree. The poor guy just didn’t think that plan through very well.

          Some of you are probably familiar with the Darwin awards. The Darwin awards are given out every year to people who do particularly dumb things. One of the finalists for the award a few years back was a teenager who ended up in the hospital recovering from some serious head wounds that he got from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the young man told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he got hit. Well, he certainly found out.(1)

          You can save a lot of headaches in life if you take the time to think things through. And, as with many aspects of our modern life, there is an app to help you out with that. It’s an app called On Second Thought. The developer, Maci Peterson, was out late one night and she sent an embarrassing text. When she woke up the next morning, she realized that she had said some things she shouldn’t have said and regretted sending any text at all. So she developed her app On Second Thought – which has 2 main features:

          -a “recall” function that gives the user up to 60 seconds to reclaim a text before it’s sent.

          - and a “curfew setting” which holds all text messages until a designated time. So if you’re out late and don’t trust the condition you’re in, you might want to review your texts the following morning and make sure it’s something you really want to send before it goes out. The app automatically holds your text for you until the next day. (2) That way you can avoid any rash decisions made in the heat of the moment. It’s always best to think things through and count the costs.

          In today’s Gospel text, Jesus is addressing the increasing crowd of people following him as he makes his way from Galilee to Jerusalem. He seems to suspect that many in the crowd were just along for the ride, waiting to see what miracle he might do next or hoping to get in on the action if Jesus was going to start a revolt against the Romans.

          It’s not surprising that so many were following him. Right before this story, Jesus told a parable about a great dinner. None of the invited guests wanted to come, so the host invited the poor, the lame, the crippled and the blind to come to the feast. That sounded pretty good to the crowds – free food allows draws a crowd – so they followed along with Jesus.

          But then we come to this story where Jesus tells the crowd “You better count the costs of being my disciple.”

          He starts out his warning with another one of those difficult sayings that just don’t sound like Jesus – “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, and yes, even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

          Pretty harsh. How can Jesus say that? Does he mean this literally? What is Jesus trying to say here?

          You may remember the movie “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” The plot centers on a writer from New York City who tries to understand a group of rather eccentric residents of Savannah, Georgia. One thing in particular that flummoxes the New Yorker is their penchant for understatement. The film is set in the 1980’s, although a woman nevertheless refers to the Civil War as “that recent unpleasantness.” When an intruder interrupts a fancy dinner party firing a pistol at the ceiling and brandishing the jagged edge of a broken whiskey bottle, he is flatly appraised by dinner guests as “a colorful character.” A man sentenced to federal prison for embezzlement is said to have been snared by “a little accounting issue.”

          What makes the film so amusing is the growing awareness that for all those eccentric characters practiced in the art of understatement, everything they say makes perfect sense. For the visiting New Yorker, who is not privy to their unspoken cultural assumptions behind every conversation, it is impenetrable. He remains mystified.

          Well, if we could visit first-century Palestine, we might have a  similar experience. As the citizens of Savannah were masters of understatement, so the Rabbi’s of Jesus’ day excelled at hyperbole. Hyperbole is the opposite of understatement. It is a bold exaggeration used for dramatic effect. If you are an outsider unfamiliar with the linguistic rules of the game, it can be confusing, and infuriating.

          “Whoever comes to me,” says Jesus, “and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

          Such a statement sounds ridiculous, even offensive – to those who immune to hyperbole. Like the New York writer from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, we take literally what is meant figuratively. “Hate you father and mother” is a figure of speech used for dramatic effect.(3)

          Does Jesus really mean this? Well – yes and no

          Jesus isn’t telling us to literally “hate” everyone and everything in life. What he means by this is to encourage people to count the costs. Be sure you know what you’re getting into if you decide to become a disciple of Jesus. You have to be “all in,” so to speak.

          To clarify why he says this outrageous statement about hating people, Jesus cites a couple of examples of how we might count the costs. If you are building a tower, you sit down, you make a budget, you draw up plans and you figure out how much it will all cost. If you’re a king getting ready to go to war, you try to think things through and make sure you have enough soldiers and weapons to win – otherwise, it would be better to send a delegation to try and work out a peaceful resolution.

          Likewise, if you want to be a disciple of Jesus, you need to count the cost and make sure you’re prepared to go all in.

          With these cautionary words, Jesus isn’t trying to dissuade us from following him. Instead, he is afraid that we may spend our lives splashing about in the shallow end of life when the real adventure lies in the deep waters. For instance, there was once a mother who was teaching her young son how to swim. She stood before him as he moved along the surface, his arms and legs moving in rhythm. He was also aware of the dreaded deep end of the pool. As soon as they crossed the floating markers and the water turned a darker shade of blue, he would panic, lifting his head and flailing his arms. His mother would encourage him; “Don’t be afraid. I am still with you. Swimming in deep water is no different than swimming in the shallow end. Trust me.”

          With this strange, disturbing statement, Jesus says, “Trust me. Follow me into the deep. I will be with you.” This is not scolding. It is encouragement. Encouragement to hold nothing back, to be all God has called us to be.

          The alternative is a life of regret. In Anne Tyler’s novel The Amateur Marriage, Michael Anton is an 80 year- old man looking back on his uneventful life. He has made some mistakes, but he has avoided all the big pitfalls. He can say that he never cheated anybody or tossed anyone aside. He has successfully avoided most big risks and mistakes in life. But Michael is filled with regret. He wishes “he had inhabited more of his life, used it better, filled it fuller.”(4)

          In this passage, Jesus uses hyperbole. Jesus exaggerates. He says something shocking as a means to a greater end. He beckons us to count the cost, then go all in and follow him into the deep areas of life with one goal in mind - to inhabit more of our lives, to use our days better and fill them fuller, to experience life abundant.

          Let us be thankful for the invitation!

          May God be praised. Amen. 

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol XXXV, No. 3, p52

2.    Ibid…p53.

3.    Mark Ralls, Feasting on the Gospels, Westminster John Knox Press, 2014, p74.

4.    Ibid…p78.

9-1-19 The Great Reversal

Thomas J Parlette

“The Great Reversal”

Luke 14: 1, 7-14

9/1/19 

          I am a big Harry Potter fan. I’ve read all the books, I’ve seen all the movies, literally dozens of times, I bought a wand at Ollivander’s in Diagon Alley down at Universal and I even have a Griffyndor tie.

          Whenever Juliet and I watch one of the movies, we always see something new, and we invariably get lost down the rabbit hole that is fan trivia websites. Every question we have ever had about Harry Potter has been answered by someone somewhere in the online universe. We are now pretty fluent in Potterese – my own term for all the insider lingo and shorthand that defines these sort of trivia sites.

          For instance, no one refers to the full titles of any of the books or movies – they always get shortened to “Sorcerer’s, or Chamber, Phoenix or Goblet – a shorthand version of the titles:

          Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or the Philosopher’s Stone as it was called in England”

          Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

          I’ve always thought that each of the Gospels could have their own subtitles like that. If that was the case, I think Luke’s Gospel might be called Jesus of Nazareth and The Great Reversal.

          The theme of reversal is especially important for Luke. In the very first chapter, he reports how people break out in joyous song to proclaim the new order that Christ will establish. Mary declares in her great Magnificat that the Lord “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”

          And then Zechariah, the elderly priest, adds his voice to the song: “By the tender mercy of God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”

          Jesus of Nazareth and The Great Reversal, right from the beginning.

          This trajectory of “great reversals” continues in this passage from Luke. A ruler, one of the Pharisees, has prepared a banquet on the Sabbath. Except for Jesus, the guests belong to the man’s inner circle. They crowd around the table seeking a place of honor. We don’t know where Jesus sits, whether at the head of the table or down at the end, but he does not hesitate to use the occasion to point to the new order that he is establishing. He upsets established protocol by speaking boldly to the group, even though he is the outsider. He does not jockey for influence with the host, but neither does he sit by quietly. Rather, he publicly challenges the very order of things at the table.

          His first word is to the invited guests. Those who come to the table seeking honor for themselves have not yet grasped the ways of God. The order at the table should be determined not by the guests, but by the host. To make his point, he turns to a source they all would have known – the Wisdom of Solomon, the Book of Proverbs, to quote the verses we heard today… “Do not put yourself forward in the King’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told “Come up here,” than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.”

          Good, practical advice for avoiding a potentially embarrassing situation. As Baron Rothschild once said when asked about seating important guests, “Those that matter won’t mind where they sit and those who do mind, don’t matter.”(1)

          Jesus then turns to the host and criticizes his choice of guests. He should not be inviting those who can benefit him but, rather, “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind,” who would be unable to repay or benefit him in any way. In both cases, Jesus issues a call to reverse the normal order of things. A different kind of table etiquette characterizes life before God.

          Philip Yancey tells of a certain couple who had planned a lavish wedding reception. They booked a banquet room at the elegant Hyatt hotel in Boston, and made the required down payment of half the receptions cost.

          It was not long, though, before the prospective groom had a change of heart. He found it hard to commit, he said to his fiancé. He asked her if they could put the wedding on hold, so he could think about it.

          She knew what he meant, he didn’t really want to think about it. He just wanted out. So, after a very unpleasant scene, they parted company for good.

          One of the bride’s next stops was the office of the Events Manager of the Hyatt. The manager said she was sorry, but most of the deposit was non-refundable. The former bride-to-be had only two options, she explained : she could either forfeit the rest of her down payment or go ahead with the party.

          As Yancey tells it, “It seemed crazy, but the more the jilted bride thought about it, the more she liked the idea of going ahead with the party – not a wedding banquet, mind you, but a big blowout. Ten years before, this same woman had been living in a homeless shelter. She had gotten back on her feet, found a good job and set aside a sizable nest egg. Now she had the wild notion of using her savings to treat the down-and-outs of Boston to a night on the town.

          And so it was that in June 1990, the Hyatt in downtown Boston hosted a party such as it had never seen before. The hostess changed the menu to boneless chicken – “in honor of the groom who had ditched her”, she said – and sent invitations to rescue missions and homeless shelters.

          That warm summer night, people who were used to peeling half-eaten pizza off cardboard boxes dined instead on Chicken Cordon Bleu. Hyatt waiters in tuxedos served hors d’oeuvres to senior citizens propped up by crutches and aluminum walkers. Bag ladies, vagrants and addicts took one night off from the hard life on the sidewalks outside and instead sipped champagne, ate chocolate wedding cake and danced to big-band melodies late into the night.” (2)

          Jesus makes clear that no one deserves to sit at table in the Kingdom of God; everyone is an unworthy guest. Those who follow Christ will be exalted only by the virtue of God’s free gift of salvation. Our posture before the Almighty should therefore be characterized by humility and supplication. God invites to the table not those who pride themselves on their power and social connections, but, rather, those who know just how weak and helpless they are because of their sinfulness and brokenness.

          There’s an old story about the funeral of Charlemagne, the French King who unified his country and was named the first Holy Roman Emperor. As the emperor’s funeral procession drew up to the cathedral, the members of the nobility were shocked to find the gate barred by the bishop.

          “Who comes?” called out the bishop.

          The King’s herald replied, “Charlemagne, Lord and King of the Holy Roman Empire!”

          The bishop responded, “Him I know not! Who comes?”

          So the herald tried again, “Charles the Great, a good and honest man of the earth.”

          Again the bishop replied, “Him I know not. Who comes?”

          “Charles, a lowly sinner, who begs the gift of Christ.”

          “Him I know,” said the bishop. “Enter!”(3)

          For Jesus, those who make their own honor the goal of their lives will be ashamed of themselves in the end, and those who are humble, repeatedly putting others first, will experience the true, deep, and lasting honor of the kingdom of God.

          Throughout the whole of the New Testament, Christian discipleship is understood to entail a fundamental break with the powers of sin and death. Those who belong to Christ have died to one life and risen to another. They have renounced the selfish values of worldly existence in order to embrace the self-giving love of God. The Gospel establishes a new order: a Kingdom of justice and peace. Human relationships are no longer characterized by suspicion and competition, but rather by deep, rich communion. Christ makes possible a way of life that turns present reality upside down. The reign of God is characterized by a series of “great reversals”, just as Luke points out.

          In the mid 1960’s, an African American couple in Louisville, Kentucky, visited a well-to-do Presbyterian church whose membership was exclusively white. During communion, the elders avoided serving the couple. As the pastor watched from the front, he was mortified. When the elders returned and were seated, the pastor picked up a plate of bread and a tray of cups and walked slowly back to the couple in the back row. There he quietly but firmly declared, so that all could hear: “The body of Christ, given for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you.”

          A great reversal took place that day, and that congregation was never the same again.

          As we come to the table today, let us come with humility and gratitude in the presence of a God who continues the great reversal by inviting all people to a place of honor at the Lord’s table.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol.XXXV. No.3.

2.    HomileticsOnline, retrieved 8/20/19.

3.    Ibid…

8-25-19 Honoring the Sabbath

Thomas J Parlette

“Honoring the Sabbath”

Luke 13: 10-17

8/25/19

          Once upon a time, a man was leaving a grocery store when he was approached by two young boys selling candy bars for their school band. The man told the boys, “I’ll buy one from you on one condition. You eat it for me.” The boys agreed.

          The man paid for the candy bar and promptly handed it back to one of the boys so that he could eat it. But the boy shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

          “Why not?”

          The boy looked the man in the eye with a serious look on his face, “Because I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers.”(1)

          Not there’s a boy who knows how to follow the rules. Technically, he didn’t the man’s name, even though he just sold him the candy. So following the letter of the law – he couldn’t take it.

          In our Gospel story for today, Luke tells us the story of an unidentified woman with a severe back ailment that leaves her bent over, unable to stand up straight.

          Luke is the only one who tells this story. This is actually the second story tells about a healing in a synagogue on the Sabbath. The first story is found in Luke chapter 6, just after Jesus and his disciples were caught going through a field of grain on the Sabbath and plucking some of it and eating it. The Pharisees objected, because this was considered work and you can’t do any work on the Sabbath. And Jesus responds, “David did, and besides – the Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.”

          Then we hear the story of Jesus healing a man with a withered hand, in a Synagogue, on the Sabbath. The Pharisees saw the man in the crowd and wondered if Jesus would dare to take his Sabbath breaking to the next level and heal someone on the Sabbath – but they didn’t say anything.

          They didn’t have to, Jesus knew what they were thinking. And he asked them a question – “Tell me, is it legal on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or destroy it.”

          They Pharisees have no answer for this, if they follow the letter of the law, they have to say, “Well, you can’t do anything on the Sabbath.” But they don’t want to say that you can’t do something good either – so they’re in a bind.

          While they looked at each other, wondering what to say, Jesus healed the man with the withered hand. And the Pharisees were filled with fury, and started plotting against Jesus.

          So today, we’re back in a synagogue, on the Sabbath. Jesus is teaching, as he often does, and in comes this woman with a debilitating back condition. This woman does not approach Jesus, and never asks for his help. In fact, no one speaks on her behalf, begging Jesus to heal her, as we have seen before at times. No, Jesus saw her, called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free.” He laid his hands on her, and Presto! – she stood straight up for the first time in 18 years! And she immediately starting praising God.

          And then comes the reaction. The Congregation transitions from witnesses of a healing into a jury listening to opposing arguments. The leader of the Synagogue objects – not to the healing itself, but to when it was done. “There are six days to do work – this woman could be cured on any of those days, but not on today, not on the Sabbath.”

          Jesus counters, “You take care of your animals on the Sabbath, you meet their needs. Why shouldn’t we meet the needs of this woman, a daughter of Abraham, on the Sabbath.”

          And the Congregation, acting as a jury, hearing both arguments comes back with a verdict in Jesus’ favor – “the entire crowd rejoiced at the wonderful things he was doing.”

          As we can see, one of the themes that runs through the Gospel of Luke is how do we properly honor the Sabbath. In Genesis, we are told that after the Creation, the Lord rested on the seventh day – therefore we are to keep the Sabbath holy and not work, but rest to honor God’s work of Creation.

          Later, in Deuteronomy, the Sabbath commandment shifts somewhat to a command for God’s people to observe the Sabbath and keep it holy in recognition of their deliverance from captivity in Egypt. A shift takes place here from a day of rest, a day to do nothing – to a day of holy work that is pleasing to God, holy work that honors God.

          By Jesus’ time, there was great respect given to Sabbath keeping, to the point that there were many rules governing what you could and couldn’t do – many of which still exist today for highly observant Jews, right down to not being able to flip light switches on and off. In Jesus’ day, the definition of what constituted work was highly debated and delineated – that’s where Jesus gets his argument about being able to take care of animals – that wasn’t defined technically as work – whereas harvesting grain in any way was defined as work. The rules got very picky and specific.

          One of the things Jesus came to do was re-claim the idea of Sabbath. Jesus was re-framing what Sabbath looks like. Sabbath rest is a practice of faith. Sabbath is a day of holy work. For Jesus, Sabbath wasn’t a day intended to do nothing at all. But rather, the Sabbath was a day to do something holy and grace-full, and pleasing to God. When we engage in holy faith practice, we honor what Sabbath really means. In this way, God brings healing to us – and through us, brings healing to a bent out of shape world.

          Biblical scholar Ernst Kasemann tells a story about the time someone told him what it was like to be in Amsterdam after the severe storms and flood from which Holland suffered in 1952. The scene was one of those parishes where people felt themselves strictly bound to obey God’s commandments, and therefore to keep the Sabbath holy. The place was so threatened by wind and waves that the dyke had to be strengthened on Sunday if the inhabitants were to survive.

          The police notified the pastor of the local church, who now found himself in a religious difficulty. Should he call out the people of the parish that had been entrusted to him, and set them to the necessary work, if it meant profaning the Sabbath? He found the burden of making a personal decision too much for him, and he summoned the Church Council to consult and decide.

          The discussion went as one might expect: We live to carry out God’s will. God, being omnipotent, can always perform a miracle with the wind and waves. Our duty is obedience, whether in life or in death.

          The pastor tried one last argument, perhaps against his own conviction: Did not Jesus himself, on occasion, break the fourth commandment and declare that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath?”

          Thereupon a venerable old man stood up: “I have always been troubled, Pastor, by something that I have never yet ventured to say publicly. Now I must say it. I have always had the feeling that our Lord Jesus was just a bit of a liberal”(2)

          Perhaps he was. At any rate, the town felt the circumstance warranted that they do some work on the Sabbath.

          Jesus certainly is always challenging the status quo and calling people back to what God intended for creation. God does not desire a rule book and new regulations, policies and procedures. God desires a grace filled life in which we are healed and bring healing to those around us. When we engage in faithful practice and holy work, we truly honor the Sabbath.

          Laws certainly have a place in our religious and national lives. On the whole, our Christian tradition encourages us to be law-abiders and commandment-keepers. Jesus himself said that he came not to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. But the Apostle Paul made clear that “the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

          “Ought not this woman,” asked Jesus, “be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” The answer in the time of Jesus was “yes”, and it is still “Yes” today.

          Theologian Walter Wink reminds us in his book Engaging the Powers, “What killed Jesus was not irreligion, but religion itself; not lawlessness, but precisely the law; not anarchy but upholders of order. It was not the bestial but those considered best who crucified the one in whom the divine Wisdom was visibly incarnate. And because he was not only innocent, but the very embodiment of true religion, true law, true order, this victim exposed their violence for what it was – not the defense of society, but an attack against God.”(3)

          In a synagogue in Galilee, Jesus freed the oppressed and spoke the truth to power. His actions healed a crippled woman and put his opponents to shame. Today, Jesus challenges us to do the very same, with the boldness that he showed to the crowd and to the leader of the synagogue. Maybe our mission is to tutor disadvantaged children, or assist battered women, or fight sex trafficking, or work with substance abusers, or welcome refugees, or support pregnant teenagers or participate in creation care. There are endless possibilities. Like Jesus, we can continue our work to free the oppressed and speak the truth to power.

          The good news is that these actions lead to celebration, not condemnation; to rejoicing, instead of rejection. Luke tells us that the healed woman immediately began praising God, and the entire congregation rejoiced at all the wonderful things that Jesus was doing.

          May we join the rejoicing as we honor the Sabbath with holy and healing work that is pleasing to God.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, p38.

2.    HomileticsOnline, retrieved August 6th, 2019.

3.    Ibid…

8-18-19 A Difficult Saying

Thomas J Parlette

“A Difficult Saying”

Luke 12: 49-56

8/18/19

          As you might surmise from the sermon title, this passage for today is one of those that has been referred to as one of Jesus’ difficult sayings. Jesus said a great many things that were heard to swallow – just think of the Sermon on the mount…

          “Blessed are the poor in spirit

          Blessed are those who mourn

          Blessed are the meek

          Blessed are you who are persecuted”

          Really? It’s hard to feel blessed when people are persecuting you.

          In addition, Jesus said, “Everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery…

          If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off…

          If someone strikes you on the right cheek, offer the left as well…

          If anyone takes your coat, give them your cloak too…

          If someone forces you to walk a mile – go two.

          All difficult sayings because they go against our human nature.

          Or, how about the time Jesus’ mother and brothers tried to get in to see him and he turned them away saying “those who do the will of God are my brothers and sisters.” Difficult – how could Jesus say something like that?

          Or, earlier in Luke, we hear a would-be follower tell Jesus he first needed to bury his father, and Jesus seems pretty heartless when he implies the man should leave his family obligations behind. Not exactly the family-values Jesus we might expect.

          And remember, in Matthew’s version of this story, Jesus says “I have come not to bring peace, but a sword.” Just a tad bit more graphic in Matthew’s telling. A difficult saying to be sure.

          Preaching professor Eugene Lowry used to say that a preacher should approach a text “looking for trouble.”(1) If that’s true, there’s certainly quite a bit of trouble to choose from here.

          By and large, we don’t really want to hear Jesus talk about bringing fire and dividing families. We would probably prefer to think of “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild…” as Charles Wesley wrote in one of his well-known Christmas hymns.

          It reminds me of a scene from a decidedly non-religious movie, but one in which there is actually quite a bit of prayer. Perhaps you’ve run across Will Ferrel’s movie “Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.”

          Ricky Boby is a stock car driver on the NASCAR circuit. He is at the peak of his career when he is involved in an accident that affects his confidence, and he struggles to find his way back into racing. It’s a silly, tongue-in-cheek parody of NASCAR and racing movies in general.

          In one scene pretty early in the movie, Ricky Bobby is sitting down to dinner with his family. Every imaginable kind of fast-food is spread all over the table, and Ricky Bobby begins to say grace…

          “Dear Lord Baby Jesus, thanks so much for this bountiful harvest of Domino’s, KFC and the always delicious Taco Bell (because those are the sponsors for his race car, so that’s all the family eats).”

          After going on for awhile, his wife stops him and says, “Ricky Bobby, why do you always pray to the Baby Jesus? He grew up, you know – he had a beard!”

          “Look, I like Christmas Jesus best, and I’m sayin grace. When you say grace, you can say it to Grown-Up Jesus or Teenage Jesus or Bearded Jesus or whoever you want.”

          His wife rolls her eyes and Ricky Bobby goes on…

          “Dear Tiny Jesus, in your golden fleece diapers with your tiny, little balled up baby fists, Thank You, for all your power and your grace.

Dear Baby God, Amen.”

          The scene goes downhill from there, but I think that scene captures something true. Most Christians like the Baby Jesus of Christmas time the best. Christmas Jesus is manageable. Baby Jesus is sweet and safe, meek and mild. But then Jesus grows up. And he grows into his call, and he is known for saying some pretty difficult and challenging things.

          Tony Campolo, a well-known Christian speaker and author, once wrote a blog on the site Red Letter Christians called “Why Christians don’t like Jesus.” He wrote:

          “Many Christians believe in retribution. They want a God who tells them that there should be an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, and they become furious when anyone suggests another kind of God who asks them to be merciful and forgiving…

          “The God revealed in Jesus Christ is far too generous. He gives his all in love for others, and expects us to do the same. Such a God is too demanding for most Christians. They want a God who only requires a tithe. They sing about total giving, but in the end they would like to sing, “One-tenth to Jesus I surrender, one-tenth to him I gladly give – I surrender one-tenth. I surrender one-tenth.” Ultimately, they want a God who declares as an abomination all those who offend their social mores.” Who don’t think like they do.

          “The Bible says that God created us in his own image. Unfortunately, George Bernard Shaw was correct when he said, “We have decided to return the favor.” There is no doubt that most Christians want a God in their own image, but that’s not the God who is revealed in Jesus Christ. God is not an American who would carry within his psyche all the traits of judgment and prejudices so evident among those who want nothing to do with the God who breaks loose in the Sermon on the Mount.”(2)

          It is not Jesus’ purpose or intent to bring division and discord. But Jesus knows that the message he brings, and must deliver, will cause division. This passage is descriptive and predictive, but it is not a prescription or a recommendation.

          That is to say, it is not Jesus purpose to set children against their parents, or parents against their children, but this sort of rupture can be the result of the changes brought on by Christ’s work.

          For example, consider the story of Ron Luce. Luce’s parents divorced when he was a child. When he was 15, he moved in with his father. But his father was not someone you would give a “World’s Greatest Dad” mug to. Ron’s Dad actually him to smoke pot and party. For a while Ron thought he’d found the perfect life. But then, a friend invited Ron to church. This little church was alive with joy, and the pastor’s message connected with Ron, and he chose to become a  follower of Jesus Christ. The joy he discovered changed his life. He stopped smoking and partying and began sharing his faith with all his friends. The result of that was that not long afterwards, his father and stepmother kicked him out of the house. They said they didn’t want a “Jesus Freak” as they called him, living with them.

          So at 16 years old, Ron was temporarily homeless and living out of his car. Ron’s pastor eventually took him in, and as Ron would later write, “Being a part of my pastor’s family was the most incredible experience of my Christian growth.”(3)

          With the support of his new family, Ron Luce graduated from high school and college and went into the ministry. Today, he is the co-founder and President of Teen Mania Ministries, where he devotes himself to spreading the message of God’s hope and love to teenagers.

          “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? Said Jesus. “No, I tell you, but division.”

          As always, context is crucial. Keep in mind who Jesus is talking to when he talks about peace and division. He was speaking to his disciples – not a large group of people who were listening to him for the first time, but his inner circle of people who had been travelling with him for some time now. His purpose seems to be to correct any misconceptions they held about what following him entailed. When he asked them, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace on earth?”, he was challenging their assumption that he was going to establish the messianic reign Israel had long looked for, where they would be an independent people again, secure in the borders of a land flowing with milk and honey.

          Commentator Stephen Wright says, “the most powerful thrust of Jesus’ words is surely against the comfortable assumption that the promised time of peace would involve perpetuation of the standard segregation of the world into the nation of Israel, and “the nations” or the Gentiles; the assumption that “peace” would involve victory of the former over the latter.”(4)

          That, as we now know, was not where Jesus was headed. He was already feeling the shadow of the cross, and, if the disciples were going to stay with him, they needed to know that the way ahead would force them to not only leave behind their expectations of messianic peace, but also to make hard choices about who had a claim on them.

          Jesus is not divisive personally, but his call is divisive. The message Jesus brings about how to live in God’s Kingdom divides those who would be ruled by self-interest from those who would be ruled by God-interest.

          Jesus reminds his disciples, then and now, that he is not bringing peace in terms of a victory over an enemy. He is bringing a different kind of peace. As Frederick Buechner says, “For Jesus, peace seems to have meant not the absence of struggle, but the presence of love.”(5)

          And that is a difficult saying in every day and age. The peace that Jesus brings does not mean the absence of struggle or division or conflict. The peace that Jesus brings means the presence of love in how we live.

          May that be the kind of peace in which we live – living with the presence of love.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    David J. Schlafer, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p359.

2.    Homileticsonline, retrieved July 17th, 2019.

3.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol.XXXV, No 3, p35.

4.    Homileticsonline, retrieved July 17th, 2019.

5.    Ibid…

8-11-19 Moving Beyond the Status Quo

Thomas J Parlette

“Moving Beyond the Status Quo”

Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16

8/11/2019

          Status Quo is an interesting term. Its classic definition is “the existing state of affairs, especially regarding social or political issues.” Or, as Ronald Reagan once said, “Status Quo, you know, is Latin for ‘the mess we’re in.”(1)

          He was right, I suppose.  Some people are quite happy with status quo, they would like things to say just the way they are. And others work hard to change the status quo. Whether you are happy with the existing state of things or whether you want to change the mess we’re in, determines whether we hear the term status quo as positive or negative.

          Whether you love it or whether you hate it, sometimes Status Quo is needed. For instance, in Jerusalem and Bethlehem the status quo has been codified and enshrined in an actual document known as the Status Quo, capital letters. It’s a 250 year-old understanding between religious communities that applies to certain sites in those two cities.

          One of these sites is the ancient Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the place that enshrines what is believed to be Golgotha, the place Jesus was crucified, and one of the sites tradition says was the burial place of Jesus.

          Although no Protestants have any voice whatsoever in the administration of the church, at least six other religious entities do: Greek Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, Roman Catholic, Coptic Orthodox, Syriac Orthodox and Ethiopian Orthodox. As you might imagine, getting all six to agree on anything is almost impossible.

          But thanks to the Status Quo agreement, however, things have generally been quiet. Nothing changes. Not the least little thing. Ever. Except in the very rare circumstance that all interested parties agree. The most famous example of the power of the SQR – Status Quo Rules – at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the Immovable Ladder – capital letters.

          This ladder has accrued virtually the same revered and honored status as the other relics of the church. It is located above the entrance to the church. According to Wikipedia, it was first mentioned in 1757 and has remained in that location since the 18th century, aside from being temporarily moved on two occasions. The ladder is referred to as immovable due to an understanding that no cleric of the six ecumenical Christian orders may move, rearrange or alter any property without the consent of the other five orders.

          The Immovable Ladder is governed by the principles of the Status Quo agreement.

          Sometimes fights break out. This is what happened in “The Case of the Rooftop Chair.” Some monks were sitting on the roof, and one brother wanted to move his chair into the shade. Others objected, citing the SQRs. A fight broke out, punches were thrown, and the Israeli police were called in to restore order. Eleven monks – Egyptian and Ethiopian – were involved and some were hospitalized.(2)

          The occasional skirmish notwithstanding, the Status Quo Rule seems to work pretty well in Jerusalem and Bethlehem. And as much as we chafe at the status quo sometimes, our latent fondness for the status quo is deep-seated and often expressed in the adage “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

          Even the Apostle Paul admonished his readers in Corinth to stay the course – “Nevertheless, each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him. This is the rule I lay down in all the churches.” There it is. A biblical Status Quo Rule straight from the chief apostle himself.

          And yet todays passage from Hebrews presents us with some of our faith ancestors who were daring enough to move beyond the status quo and follow God’s call.

          These verses today are part of what is known as “The Faith Chapter of the Bible.” The preacher of Hebrews was addressing a Christian community under a great deal of stress and harassment, so the whole book revolves around the theme of keeping our faith in God. Chapter 11 begins with those immortal words defining faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen.” Then, in the verses that are left out of the lectionary, the Preacher reminds us of Abel, who offered a sacrifice to God. And Enoch, who pleased God. And Noah, who listened to God and built an ark despite the jeers and taunts of his neighbors.

          But the two main figures who dominate the Faith Chapter of the Bible are Abraham and Moses, both of whom were called to move beyond the Status Quo and venture into the unknown as they followed God’s lead. For as Karl Barth once said, “Faith in God’s revelation has nothing to do with an ideology which glorifies the status quo.”(3)

          Moses of course, was called by God to move the Israelites out of their status quo as captives in Egypt and begin the journey to a land that God would give them.

          But our verses for today deal with Abraham, who we also heard about in our passage from Genesis. The story of Abraham and Sarah gives us a tutorial about the nature of faith and leaving behind the status quo.

          The first thing to note about Abraham is that he obeyed. God poked Abraham in the ribs and said, “I’m tired of the same old thing, let’s go try something new.” And Abraham said, “OK. What?

          And God said, “I’m going to give you a new home, a new land – for all of your descendants.” And Abraham said, “OK. Where?

          And God said, “Well, I can’t tell you that, but I promise, it will be great.” And Abraham said, “OK – if you say so. Let’s go!”

          Even though they had no idea where they were going, Abraham and Sarah obeyed God. The first lesson about faith – obey God.

          The second lesson for us is tied to the first – Abraham and Sarah actually “set out”, the scripture tells us. Meaning, they had the audacity to do what God called them to do, even though they were unsure about what that would entail. That is a very difficult thing to do. When we decide to do something different and leave the status quo behind, we want to have a reasonable idea of what to expect – where are we going, how will we get there, how long will it take, are we prepared for the journey? All of these questions are well worth asking. Yet when describing the nature of faith to the Christian community, the Preacher of Hebrews uses Abraham as an example to follow.

          Sometimes faith is about obeying God and setting out on the journey call you to take, even though the answers you crave may be a little murky at the beginning. Uncomfortable, I know – it is for me too. But that’s what Abraham and Sarah do. They hold on to the assurance of things hoped for. They cling to the conviction of things unseen.

          Retired pastor Bud Ruggia has written: “One of my insights after years of ministry is that the church fails far more often by asking too little of its people than by asking too much. Jesus did not ask us to put a cross-shaped sticker on our car; he asked us to pick one up and follow him.”(4)

          And that’s exactly what Abraham and Sarah did.

          The third thing that Abraham teaches us about faith is the importance of trust. The heroes of faith that are mentioned in Chapter 11 of Hebrews all trusted God. Moses trusted God when he faced off against the most powerful man in the world at the time – and God did not let him down. Abraham trusted in the Lord when he was told to lay his son Isaac on an altar as a sacrifice – and God came through again, providing a ram as a sacrifice instead.

          Abraham trusted that God would deliver on the promise of a home for his descendants – even though he couldn’t see exactly how that was going to come together. And it all begins with a willingness to leave behind the status quo.

          Perhaps the biggest barrier to moving beyond the status quo – besides the fear of the unknown- is a little thing called tradition. The sometimes audible, sometimes inaudible voice that says “But this is what we do, this is what I know. We’ve done it this way forever. We’ve always supported that missionary or given to that program or agency. Our family has always lived here. Everyone in my family goes into education…or music…or the medical sciences. That is our tradition.”

          And tradition is a good thing. It’s a great way to make and preserve memories and ritual and identity – in our own families and in our church family.

          But we must also give God room to call us to do something we haven’t done before, to lead us on a new journey, or a new project or a new adventure.

          I like how Jaroslav Pelikan put it in an interview with US News and World Report back in 1989. He drew a distinction between Tradition and Traditionalism. He said:

          “Tradition is the living faith of the dead.

          Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.

          Tradition lives in conversation with the past, while remembering where we are and when we are and that it is we who have to decide.

          Traditionalism supposes that nothing new should ever be done for the first time, so all that is needed to solve any problem is to arrive at the supposedly unanimous testimony of this homogenized tradition.”(5)

          Abraham was guided by his tradition – his living faith that let God speak in his moment. He was able to move beyond the status quo and follow God into a new future. And God did not let him down.

          Over the past few weeks it has been difficult not to see all the things in our country and our world that need to change. There are many ways that we need to move beyond the way things are and do something different. It finally seems that there may be some momentum behind changing our gun laws so we can keep do something about the epidemic of gun-related violence we have seen this summer. I am praying some progress is made. I hope we can address the way our mental health system works with those who need help, as that is also part of the violence problem. And there are so many others ways in which we need to move away from our status quo. I don’t mean to leave any out, but you could choose immigration, racism, white nationalism and white supremacy, our healthcare system, our problem with addiction, the need to make social security actually secure or just simply trying to make sure the people of our country, our state, our city of Rochester have enough to eat and a decent, affordable place to live. There are countless ways that we need to move beyond the status quo of how it is.

          John Steinbeck once wrote “A dying people tolerates the present, rejects the future and finds its satisfactions in past greatness and half-remembered glory.”(6)

          However, a living people listens closely to voices like the Preacher of Hebrews calling the people of God to hold onto faith – the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

          Because as people of the way, we have the assurance that God does not leave us to wallow in despair. We live with the conviction that God will act, through us and through God-fearing people everywhere – even though we don’t quite see how that will come together just yet.

          We hold onto these assurances and convictions so that we may move beyond the status quo toward what  Peter talked about in his second letter: “We look for – and speed the coming of- the new heaven and a new earth, where justice is at home.” We look for that time when “The Peaceable Kingdom of God” that the prophet Isaiah foretold, will be a reality.

          May it be so – sooner rather than later.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    HomileticsOnline, retrieved July 16, 2019.

2.    Ibid…

3.    Ibid…

4.    Ibid…

5.    Ibid…

6.    Ibid…

8-4-19 Remember You are Baptized

Rev. Jay Rowland

First Presbyterian Church, Rochester MN

Colossians 3:1-11 (NRSV)

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. 2Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, 3for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. 4When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory. 

5Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry). 6On account of these the wrath of God is coming on those who are disobedient. 7These are the ways you also once followed, when you were living that life. 

8But now you must get rid of all such things—anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. 9Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off the old self with its practices 10and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator. 11In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all! 

Remember You Are Baptized

Once upon a time, way back in the first century, baptism was a big deal in the church.  That’s not to say that baptism is not a big deal anymore. Rather it seems that baptism no longer invokes the awe and commitment it did among the earliest believers. Perhaps some reflection might rectify that discrepancy at least a bit today.

Considering that government-sanctioned persecution was rampant in the first century, it’s a wonder the church survived. The powers and authorities who crucified Jesus were still in charge so the choice to be baptized meant putting your life in jeopardy.  It’s interesting that today, without such threats the church is experiencing a (well-publicized) cultural decline. 

It’s a wonder people were willing to risk their lives in order to be baptized.  Those who came forward to be baptized knew the risk involved.  They did so anyway because they no doubt recognized a higher authority than the earthly authorities which threatened them.  It shows that those first century Christians saw baptism--and life--the way Paul describes in Romans

all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death[.]  Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death…  For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. (Romans 6:3-6)

I refer to Romans 6 because Paul’s use of the phrase “old self” connects it to the Colossians passage for today, at least in my mind. My curiosity and pondering kept bringing me back to baptism. Though the Colossians passage does not otherwise appear to have anything to do with baptism, Paul seems to expand upon his words about baptism in Romans 6.

The vibe, however, is clearly different. The message in Romans 6 is captivating, poetic. It’s proclamation. In Colossians Paul is less poetic and more demanding. This is a different aspect of Paul’s brilliance: exhortation.  Paul does both proclamation and exhortation very, very well.  And here in this excerpt from Colossians, Paul is at his exhortative best as he practically commands baptized believers to live differently because of their baptism:

Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry). … get rid of all such things—anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, [for] you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self …

See what I mean by “different vibe”? I cringe when Paul gets revved up like this because, well, speaking only for myself here I can’t honestly say I’ve rid myself of those old-self habits, to say nothing of putting them to death.  I worry that anyone reading or hearing these words might think, I haven’t put those things to death in my life--what’s wrong with me?I’m not a good Christian. Maybe I’m not a Christian at all.

Which leads me to a very important clarification, a statement of perhaps the obvious: the water of baptism is not literally “holy water” with mystical properties to somehow prevent us from making poor choices. Baptism uses the powerful element of water, basic water, that simple thing we cannot live without, which sustains all life.1 Water is the visible component in this celebration of the invisible power of God’s Holy Spirit. This water also marks us as Christ’s own, spiritually grafting us onto the body of Christ. How awesome is that?! … especially in those moments when we find ourselves deceived into thinking we’re not “good enough” believers. Baptism announces your permanent citizenship in the kingdom of God. Baptism signifies your inclusion in the covenant God made with humanity from the beginning.  

The thing is, baptism proclaims our citizenship in a kingdom that’s invisible to the naked eye.  And baptized people of course look no different than any other people. Perhaps that’s what provokes Paul to exhortation, at least here in Colossians 3. Paul passionately shares elsewhere about his own struggles to live his relationship with the Lord and participate in God’s kingdom in a way that’s as real as the visible earthly kingdoms. He knows that we are all vulnerable to the limitations of living in a world with powerful “authority” and temptations and deceptions. And that’s precisely what makes baptism so critical and so worthy of our awe. Perhaps more than most, Paul is painfully aware that baptism doesn’t magically or otherwise transform flawed human beings into perfect ones.

His use of the phrase “old self” in this passage (v 9 & 10), to my way of thinking, is Paul’s way of admitting that we all continue to make poor choices--choices which create a barrier between ourselves and God.  The old self represents our life apart from God—the freedom the Lord gives us to go our own way.  Paul brilliantly proclaims (elsewhere) that all of that was crucified with Christ.  I interpret Paul to be saying that sin has lost its ultimate power to destroy us or God’s relationship with us, but the “old self” remains stubbornly present (and visible).  In the meantime, however, our conscience is awakened by Christ and the Holy Spirit, and as a result we become aware of a very real, ongoing conflict within us and all around us in the world. Whenever we feel bad about the persistence of our old-self ways it keeps us humble—or at least, hopefully, prevents us from becoming spiritually or religiously arrogant. And the more aware we are of this ongoing conflict, the more we realize that it is more than a mere “conflict of interest”. It carries life and death significance, as theologian Nancy Kraft articulates:

We’re always making life and death decisions, one after another in our lives, often perhaps without realizing it:

In the things we eat and drink.

In the way we do business.

In the way we choose to spend our free time.

In the way we interact with other people.

In the conversations we have.

In the books we read, the movies we watch, the websites we visit.

In the thoughts we choose to dwell on.

In how we spend our Sunday mornings.

In the games we play.

In the viewpoint we take toward things that don’t go our way.

In our reactions when we’re driving.

[In how we express or repress our sexuality]

In judgments we make about people who don’t do things the way we think they should, or dress the way we think they should, or speak the way we think they should.

In the jokes we choose to laugh at.

In the way we spend our money.

In the people with whom we choose to associate.

In the way we encounter a stranger on the street.

In the priority we give to our relationship with God.

Every waking moment of the day, we make ethical decisions. We choose between what leads us to death and what leads us to life.     

[Nancy Kraft, http://liberallectionaryresources.com/c%20proper%2013.html]

 Again speaking only for myself here, if I’m being honest my choices predominantly lean toward the leading-to-death side of the ledger.  But rather than despair, I choose to trust in the steadfast promise proclaimed and displayed in my (and every!) baptism: the Lord abides with us no matter what.

Meanwhile, I do happen to believe that God cares about our choices and is always ready, willing and able to help us change and grow, and to make better choices. The miracle is that sometimes we do!  And this helps us remain hopeful and inspired, especially at other times when we do not, or worse yet, when we make the same poor choices and mistakes over and over and over again. 

We make and repeat poor choices because we’re human beings not automatons. Even so, God’s love and grace abides. What makes baptism so powerful is its public proclamation of this outlandish, downright scandalous commitment God has made to each of us. The commitment is to love and abide with us not as long as we hold up our end—no, God’s commitment to us is unconditional. Being more accustomed to conditions in life, the temptation is to presume that the Lord is that way too. This presumption provokes too many of us into Appeasing An Angry God, chasing the impulse to earn God’s abiding love (or defuse God’s Anger). This compulsion thrives on fear and ignores grace. It keeps people stuck on a treadmill of guilt, or worse, feeling excluded from God’s promises, all because of a perceived failure to achieve unattainable standards of religious perfection.  That’s not the Jesus who meets us in the gospels.

We forget that God’s love for us was is displayed in the life and suffering and death of Jesus Christ and has been committed to us no matter what. God raised Jesus from death rendering God’s love through Him un-defeatable, undeniable, un-shakable, un-killable; there’s nothing we can do or not do, there’s nothing that has happened or that is going to happen which will cause God to withdraw God’s life-giving, life-sustaining love and forgiveness.  God’s promise depends upon God, not upon us, and certainly not upon any self-willed, bootstrap mastery over sin. 

Well before we arrived on the scene, God decided to forgive us and to care for us and love us no matter what—no exceptions. Of course we all can learn to love one another more and more in the manner and spirit God loves us in Christ. But too often we forget that when we inevitably fail along the way, that’s not a deal-breaker for God. Even so our failures and struggles don’t relieve us of that responsibility and call to love God and each other.

That’s what makes Baptism and also the Lord’s Supper both vital companions on our pilgrimage.  The repetition Communion and Baptism are necessary for us. Received amidst and among the church community these oft-repeated acts (Sacraments), Communion and Baptism, and the internal rhythms of each act itself, all have a way of creating sacred space … space and time … into which we enter, pausing to remember God’s abiding love and presence.  Whenever we are reminded that the Lord accompanies us every moment of every day of our life, every breath, every step no matter what, that moment is sacred space.   

Baptism proclaims our permanent citizenship in God’s Kingdom. Today the Table of Grace is set once again, reminding us that Jesus reserved a place for each one of us at the Table. Both sacraments remind us over and over again, as Paul says, your life is hidden with Christ in God (and) (w)hen Christ who is our life shall appear, then you also shall appear with Him in glory.

Baptism is a big deal. As we come together once again to the Table of Grace, remember: you are baptized.   

_________________________________

Afterword on glory

I’ve long concerned myself with certain “church-y” words … words we hear in religious contexts but which otherwise convey very little meaning in our daily thoughts or lives. My sense is that “glory” may be one of those churchy words. Its appearance in the Colossians passage for today prompted me to wonder how to uphold or translate its vitality. Doing so in the sermon would have been too much of a tangent. As it happens, I’m reading a book which features an essay on the term glory. I decided to post excerpts here hoping that it might help improve understanding of “glory” in a general faith sense, if not also with regards to its appearance in Colossians 3:4.

The following excerpts appear in the chapter, “Ruled by Glory” from the book Insurgence: Reclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom, by Frank Viola, Baker Books, 2018 [pages 50-53 e-book version]:

 “In describing how God rules [God’s] kingdom, the psalmist asked, “Who is this king of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory. (Psalm 24:10 KJV). God … is spoken of as the God of glory (Acts 7:2 NIV). … Jesus is called the Lord of glory (1 Cor. 2:6-8), and the Holy Spirit is called the Spirit of glory (1 Peter 4:14). So the triune God, the eternal Godhead is characterized by glory.  God’s glory is the visible expression of [God’s] character. It includes [God’s] beauty, [God’s] splendor, and [God’s] love. Glory is the result of grace. Grace is giving to us what we don’t deserve. In God’s grace, we see [God’s] glory. “

“God’s life is glory; [God’s] nature is grace.”

 “Earthly kingdoms are ruled by force. … By contrast the kingdom of heaven is ruled neither by fear nor force. Instead, God’s kingdom is governed by two things: God’s glory and absolute freedom.”

“Consider God’s rule before creation. The heavenly hosts were subject to God by the sight of [God’s] peerless glory. And they were utterly free to follow [God] or not to follow…  But what has kept the faithful heavenly host submitted to God’s authority since the beginning of time? It’s the resplendent beauty of God the King.  The angels, who bear the burning bliss of God’s holy light, are intoxicated with the beauty of the Almighty. They continuously marvel at [God’s] majesty, splendor, and radiance … captivated and captured by [God’s] glory.”

 “What captured the twelve disciples to forsake everything else and follow Jesus? Simple. They saw His glory and were captured by it.”  

“The New Testament tells us that Jesus is the radiance of God’s glory (Hebrews 1:3;  2 Corinthians 4:6). And it is by seeing the glory of Christ and God establishes the kingdom [of God] in our hearts.”  

Endnote:

1 On the water of baptism, I love this devotion by Rev. Quinn G. Caldwell:

Fill a baptismal font with water, invoke the Holy Spirit over it, and you can almost watch it fill with grace. Suddenly it becomes the deep over which God’s Spirit brooded at the beginning. The Red Sea through which the Israelites passed to freedom. The flowing Jordan. The waters of Mary’s womb, and the tears she shed at the cross. The sea over which Jesus walked. The stream from the crystal throne of God. A font blessed contains an ocean’s worth of miracles and memories and symbols and salvation.

But really, the most miraculous thing our baptismal fonts hold is: water.

The stuff you’re mostly made of.

The stuff Earth’s mostly covered with.

The universal solvent.

That with which you washed your newborn.

That with which you wash yourself.

That without which you would die, fast.

More important than food, stronger than stone, free out of the sky, object of wars.

Powerful enough that people will walk miles and miles a day for it.

Powerful enough that our government will prosecute you if you give it to the wrong people in the desert.

And if the water in your font is clean enough that it won’t give you cholera or lead poisoning, then you have before you a vessel of the most longed-for substance in human history, still out of reach for people from Flint to Port au Prince to Chennai.

Bless a baptismal font filled with clean water, and you might think you have before you a symbol of grace.

You do not. You have before you a vessel full of the real thing.

Published by the UCC as part of its ongoing daily devotional, God Is Still Speaking. For more information go to UCC.org Rev. Quinn G. Caldwell is a father, husband, homesteader and preacher living in rural upstate New York.