End Times

Two pastors stand by the side of the road holding up signs.  One reads, “The End is Near!” and the other, “Turn yourself around before it’s too late.”  A car speeds by and the driver yells out the window, “Leave me alone, you religious nuts.”  A few seconds later the pastors hear the sound of tires screeching followed by a big splash.  One pastor turns to the other and says, “Do you think our ministry would be more effective if our signs read, ‘Warning’ and ‘Bridge Out Ahead’?”

I came across a site that ponders how the covers of different magazines and newspapers might read as the end times approaches:

USA Today: We’re dead

The Wall Street Journal: Dow Jones plummets as world ends 

National Enquirer: O.J. and Nicole, together again

Victoria’s Secret Catalog: Our final sale 

Sports Illustrated: Game over! 

Rolling Stone: The Grateful Dead reunion tour 

Readers Digest: ‘Bye! 

TV Guide: Death and damnation: Nielson Ratings soar! 

Lady’s Home Journal: Lose 10 lbs by judgment day with our new “Armageddon” Diet! 

The end of time never seems to be far from our collective psyche.  Just this past August, a solar eclipse triggered a new wave of fret and dread capped off with rumors a mysterious dark planet was set to collide with Earth.  There is in us a deeply rooted sense of our own fragility.  We sense there are powerful and dangerous forces over which we have no control and so we live with a low-level of anxiety spawned by an overdue earthquake (the “Big One”), an extinction-creating asteroid, or a worldwide pandemic.  Feeding into this anxiety are the things we human beings do to one another: mass shootings, terrorist attacks, and unsettling comments by powerful government officials. 

Our own bible acts like yeast in the dough of apocalyptic thinking.  Today, for example, each of our assigned readings describes what the prophet Amos calls “The Day of the Lord.”  Every Sunday we people of faith confess Jesus “will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”  The bible does not give us a simple, complete picture of what this will look like.  In fact, if you collected every statement about the end times in the bible, you would quickly discover many are irreconcilable.  One has the faithful living in heaven, another describes a new Jerusalem coming down from heaven and being established on earth.  One has the faithful being taken up into the sky, another has the faithless being taken away with the faithful being left to continue on.  Rather than giving us details about the end times to be crafted into a timeline of historical events to come, I hold scripture gives us images and ideas to be crafted into a tapestry of wisdom; wisdom intended to speak to the anxiety we feel.

What wisdom do we find in today’s readings?

Amos is a shepherd and fig tree farmer living in the southern nation of Judah when God calls him to go and speak to the people of the northern kingdom of Israel.  At the time, Israel has been experiencing an extended period of peace and prosperity, which has seen the gap widen between the rich and the poor.  But now the shadow of the Assyrian army looms over all of this and the people of Israel turn to God for help.  They believe if they really, really pour themselves into the appointed festivals and sacrifices, God will act on their behalf.  They call this divine intervention “The Day of the Lord.”  It will be the day when God rises up against the Assyrian army on behalf of Israel. 

Amos, the southerner “not from here”, speaks up: “You don’t want the Day of the Lord because it will be horrible for you.  Your worship and your sacrifices and your singing are not pleasing to God.  What God desires is for justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness to be like an ever-flowing stream.”   While we may think of justice as being every person getting what he or she deserves, in Amos’ time it referred to caring for the poor, protecting the vulnerable, and welcoming the foreigner.  These values are to be put in action not just when convenient and not just when we feel like it.  They are to be an ever-flowing stream.  Continuous.

So, what wisdom can we take from this?  The more we live the right way and the more we do the right thing the less apprehensive we will be about the future.

Paul writes to the Christians in Thessalonica about a specific spiritual and theological concern troubling them.  Paul himself is developing and adapting his own theology with the passage of time.  The early church at Pentecost believed Jesus was going to return very soon, at any time.  It could be today, tonight, next week, or perhaps next month.  As time passes two things happen.  First, some believers begin to lose their ardent zeal.  You can’t stay at heightened alert for ten years.  The bible’s response to this is an encouragement to “stay awake”.  You don’t want to be slacking off and miss out when Jesus returns.

As the years go by a second thing happens.  Faithful believers begin to die.  In Thessalonica this is cause for much debate.  Some hold those who die are gone and have missed out completely on being with Jesus when he comes again.  In his letter Paul asserts the dead will rise again because Jesus himself died and rose again.  His writing is as visual as a movie: Jesus will call out, an archangel will blow a trumpet, Jesus will descend, the dead will rise up, then the living will meet them in the clouds.  I believe this fantastic imagery houses the deep truth of what is our ultimate hope of resurrection and reunion with all those we love but see no longer.  I believe in this hope, but not in the imagery through which it is conveyed. 

Have I confused you?  A look at the gospel reading might make things a little more clear.  Jesus tells a parable about his return and in it the kingdom to come is compared to a wedding feast.  The wedding feast is the setting and the imagery.  Is the kingdom to come actually a wedding feast?  No, but the image conveys wisdom and truth.  Will we literally meet Jesus and those who have died in the clouds?  It’s possible, I suppose, but not likely.  The fantastic imagery suggestions the grandness of our hope in the resurrection.

Jesus’ parable of the ten bridesmaids with their oil lamps raises so many questions that it is difficult to focus in on the plain meaning of the story.  Who do the bridesmaids represent?  Who is the groom?  What is the oil that is so important?  Why do some have enough and others do not?  Why can’t the five with oil share?  If the point of an oil lamp is to give light, why can’t the five without enough oil simply walk beside those whose lamps are burning bright?  Why can’t the door to the banquet be opened?  Why doesn’t the person in charge “know” the bridesmaids invited to the wedding?  And finally, if the problem is not having enough oil, why does Jesus say the point of the story is “Stay awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour”? 

Well, as I have said before, it is Jesus’ story so he gets to tell it any way he wants.  The core truth of his parable seems to be the things we do today matter at the end.  How we prepare, how we live, what we do and don’t do carries with us.  Our participation in worship makes a difference.  Our kindness, our generosity, and our hospitality form something in us that will endure into the life to come.  Likewise, our coldness, our indifference, and our cruelty also matter.  They create a barrier to the life to come.  It is a message both hopeful and sobering.  Hopeful because the good we do crafts something that will endure.  Sobering because our inattentiveness to the things that matter cannot be undone.

All in all, our readings point to our hope in the resurrection and call on us to live today in a way that will build in us and in our world something that will translate into the life to come.

The Dunning-Kruger Effect on Religion

A pastor tells the congregation the focus of next week’s sermon is going to be on lying and she wants everyone to read Mark, chapter 17 during the week to be better prepared.  The next Sunday she begins her sermon by asking how many people had a chance to do the reading.  Almost everyone raises a hand.  Then the pastor says, “Let me begin my sermon on lying by telling you the Gospel of Mark only has 16 chapters.”

We Episcopalians are smart enough to know we don’t know as much about the bible as some of our friends who go to other churches.  We don’t have bible verses memorized and we struggle to know where to find a particular passage.  No one in our Sunday morning lectionary discussion group is afraid to admit to not understanding what the bible is saying.  We know we don’t know a lot about the bible and no one is trying to hide it.  All in all, this is not a bad thing.

Our gospel readings over the last few Sundays have featured a parade of religious types, scholars, and civil authorities approaching Jesus with questions to test and trap him.  Today Jesus turns the table on them and says, “Let me ask you a question” and it turns out to be a doozy.  The learned people who are out to get him are unable to come up with an answer. 

In life, it is difficult to know what you don’t know.  Here is the interesting thing, the less you know the more you think you know.  In psychology they call this the Dunning-Kruger Effect, named for social psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger.  Through a series of experiments they determined people of low ability mistakenly assess their competence as being higher than it actually is.  At the same time, people with high ability tend to underestimate their competency. 

They came to this conclusion after administering a series of tests to a number of students at Cornell University, covering subjects such as grammar, math, and history.  After each test they asked the students to rank how they thought they did.  Students who scored in the bottom fourth consistently believed they were in the top 25%.  Students who actually scored in the top 10% believed themselves to be about average. 

We see the Dunning-Kruger Effect playing out in today’s reading.  People with substantially lower ability than Jesus continue to come after him thinking they can best him.  We see it playing out in our national discourse, community meetings, and places of employment.  Rather than thinking and acting smarter, we turn to talking louder and louder. 

Bertrand Russell famously observed, “One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision.”  Dunning and Kruger learned the most confident people are the ones with the least competency.  The more you learn and the greater your skill becomes the more you realize what you don’t know and don’t understand, thus the less confident you feel. 

All of this is to say there is something admirable about the way we Episcopalians admit our ignorance about the bible.  No one I know in our church pretends to know more than he or she knows and while we are not out there trying to hide our ignorance, no one is flaunting it either.  We know we don’t know and we’re O.K. with it.

In truth, we know more than we think.  The old Anglican dictum of majoring in the majors and minoring in the minors perfectly expresses our approach to the bible.  We tend to focus on what matters most.  This morning we hear Jesus boil down everything in bible to two simple commands: love God and love your neighbor.  It is an idea so major we cite it every Sunday morning in our Rite 1 liturgy.  We tend not to focus on the minors in scripture so we can’t quote Paul chapter and verse to back up our beliefs.  We are too busy focusing our thoughts on how to love God and how to love our neighbors, especially the ones who are difficult to love.

So, while we may not know the bible as well as some of our Christian friends, I think we Episcopalians excel at living the bible; not in the way some of our Christian friends do by not smoking or drinking or dancing or playing cards, but by paying attention to what really matters… by majoring in the majors. 

In today’s Epistle reading, Paul writes to the Thessalonians how he was gentle when he was with them.  I think there is a gentleness about us Episcopalians.  We are more likely to help you find your place in the prayer book than to beat you over the head with a bible.  There is a humility at work among us.  We are not biblical scholars nor are we pious monks.  We are simply people trying to do what matters most… loving God while being kind and good to one another.  We are not perfect at either, but we know we are not perfect and that is not altogether a bad thing.

"Likeness" and the #MeToo Movement

The old Irish priest Father O’Malley hadn’t been on vacation in years, so he decided to take some time off.  Of all the places he could have gone - Rome, Jerusalem, Iona, or some other holy destination - Father O’Malley set off for Las Vegas.  Upon arriving, as he is leaving the airport, a complete stranger approaches him and excitedly says, “Elvis!  You are Elvis!  I always knew you were still alive.”  Father O’Malley, somewhat embarrassed, responds, “I am not Elvis.  I don’t even look a thing like Elvis.” 

He walks away and hails a cab.  The driver takes one look at him and says, “Elvis!  I am your number one fan.  Everyone said you were dead, but I never believed it.”  Father O’Malley, now somewhat annoyed says, “I am not Elvis.  I don’t look like Elvis.  Elvis is dead.” 

The cab drops off Father O’Malley at his hotel and he walks to the reception desk to check in.  The attendant takes one look at him and says, “Elvis, I always knew you would come back.  We’ve kept your penthouse room ready for you ever since they said you died.  It has everything just the way you like it, free food and liquor, a masseurs is standing by, and you have a commanding view of the pool where the showgirls lounge when they are not working.  Oh, Elvis,” the attendant says, “We are so glad you are back.  You can stay with us as long as you like and the bill is on us.”  Father O’Malley looks the attendant straight in the eyes and says, “Well, thank you honey, thank you very much.”

The human ability to recognize a face is a truly remarkable thing.  Some of us are better at it than others.  The Rev. Gay Jennings, who preached at our anniversary celebration, has complete name and face recall.  She has met thousands upon thousands of people through her work in the Episcopal Church and she remembers every person, which is both impressive and spooky.  For people like me who are name and face challenged, advances in facial recognition technology provide hope.  Someday we will be able to wear glasses with facial recognition ability and information about each person we look at will be displayed on the lens so only we can see it. 

We have come a long way from today’s gospel reading were Jesus spares with his detractors.  “Should we pay taxes?” they ask him.  Jesus responds, “Whose face and title are on the Roman coin?”  They know it is the Emperor even though they have never seen him face to face. 

The bible version we use translations Jesus’ question in this way: “Who head is this, and whose title?”  But this is not quite accurate.  Matthew uses a very specific Greek word – ikon – that here is translated ‘head’.  It is the same word used in the original Greek translation of the bible when God says in Genesis, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.”  Ikon means likeness.  A more accurate translation would have Jesus asking of the coin, “Whose likeness is on it?”  

It is a subtle, but significant difference.  Jews held these coins in contempt for two reasons.  First, they were forced to use this currency and only this currency to pay a detested Roman tax.  And second, it violated two of the Ten Commandments:  have no other God but me, and do not make graven images.  The Emperor’s claim to be divine is inscribed on every coin bearing his image.  He distorts his likeness of being created in the image of God by claiming to be made in the image of himself.

Jesus reminds his questioners we are all created in the likeness of God and this calls us to a higher level of living and purpose.  We are to act like the true and living God, not like gods who pursue our own ends with disregard to the impact our actions have on others.  Turn and take a look at the person sitting next to you in the pew.  Who do you see and what do you see?  Do you see a person created in the likeness of God?  If so, how are you called to honor the likeness of God in this person?

I spent this past week paying close attention to Facebook as female friends, colleagues, and family members posted in the #MeToo campaign.   Though it began some ten years ago, the movement took off last weekend in response to multiple allegations of sexual harassment and assault leveled against movie executive Harvey Winestein.  By posting #MeToo a person is stating she (or in some cases he) also has been the victim of this kind of behavior/criminal activity. 

One priest told her story on her blog site, calling herself “lucky” because her experiences of sexual harassment have been “relatively minor.”  She then goes on to describe six separate incidents involving six different men occurring over the ten years she has worked in the church as a lay person and now as an ordained woman. 

I have talked with a few of you this week and your anger and your pain are evident.  I feel your fear, not only for yourself, but for your daughters growing up in a world where a person can brag about inappropriately touching women and still get elected to the highest office in our country.

My own response to the #MeToo movement has been all over the map.  I am angry.  I am sad.  I am ashamed to be a male in a society where so many of my gender act in such shameful ways.  I am encouraged as women find the courage to speak up.  I am hopeful things will change.

From the time I was an adolescent I have striven to treat women with dignity and respect.  For me, my behavior has always been grounded in my theology.  When I look at a woman I sense and see a person created in the likeness of God.  What I say to her, how I treat her, and what I do to her, I am saying and doing to God.  It never occurred to me to use a woman or women to satisfy my own needs for domination, self-esteem, personal pleasure or whatever else it is the Harvey Winesteins of the world derive for their horrible behavior.

Gentlemen, through our baptismal covenant we promise “to seek and serve Christ in all persons.”  Groping, inappropriate comments, and intimidating behavior are direct violations of this sacred promise.  They are sins and the behavior is sinful.  Treat women the way you would like men to treat your daughter and granddaughter.

Ladies, and especially you young ladies, through our baptismal covenant you promise “to respect the dignity of every human being.”  I am deeply sorry for every time a man has violated your dignity and I call on you to do what that person did not – respect your own dignity, value, and worth. 

Your value and worth are not derived from how men see and treat (or mistreat) you.  You have dignity and worth because you are created in the image and likeness of God.  Think about this for a moment.  I believe it is a claim even more remarkable than the Resurrection.  The God who conceived and brought into being all creation, made you in his image and in her likeness.  So continue to assert your dignity by telling your story.  Continue to assert your dignity by having the courage to stand for your rights.  There are many people, both men and women, who will stand with you.  I will stand with you.

The Christian claim is this: our world and our relationships have fantastic potential because we are made in the likeness of the relational harmony of the Holy Trinity, which is at the heart and core of all reality.  The Christian faith holds God’s love will be manifested in this world as we live and treat one another in the way we wish to be treated.  The Christian belief states forgiveness is possible and the amendment of life is a gift from God we receive through the power of the Holy Spirit as we seek to change our ways.  The Christian hope believes it is within our ability to make this world a better, safer, more holy place for everyone, a place where God’s likeness flourishes in each person.

Defiant Individualism

Weddings have a way of bringing out the best in a family and also the worst.  Now, I know you know I was in Ohio last week to officiate the wedding of my youngest niece, and I know you know I have stories to tell about it.  However, since I post my sermons on a blog site and they are open for everyone to read, I think it best if I simply skip over the details and allow your imagination to run wild. 

Weddings are potent occasions.  Think how Mario Puzo introduces us to the Corleone family by setting the beginning his first Godfather book at a wedding.  Francis Ford Coppola’s movie adaption of the wedding magnificently captures the subtleties and nuances of each family member’s character, giving us a glimpse of what will unfold for each throughout the trilogy. 

Jesus, himself a master storyteller, understands how the setting of a wedding connects with his listeners.  They know firsthand how weddings bring to the surface all kinds of family and community “stuff.”  Today we hear one of Jesus’ wedding parables.  Like all good stories, it takes unexpected twists and turns, startling the audience and creating controversy.

The son of a king is getting married.  The king prepares a lavish banquet to celebrate.  This is what you would expect.  So too is the guest list.  The king invites all the local dignitaries and worthies.  Startling detail #1: the guests refuse to attend.  #2: they abuse and mistreat the king’s messengers, even going so far as to kill some.  Who, in their right mind, would do such a thing?  Well, in Jesus’ story, these people represent the religious leaders and social hierarchy of the day who have ignored God’s prophets for generations.  In the story, the king’s response is predicable: he sends his troops to punish the offenders. 

Now, we might expect the king to call off the entire celebration, but here the plot twists again.  He sends his messengers to comb the streets, inviting everyone they encounter, both “the good” and “the bad.”  As a result, the wedding hall is filled with guests, but it is a motley crew of folks to be sure.  These people represent those who have decided to respond to Jesus’ call to repent, to believe, and to follow. 

The final startling detail comes as the king surveys his last minute guests.  One person is not wearing a ceremonial wedding robe.  The king confronts him and orders his attendants to bind the person hands and feet and to throw him into the “outer darkness”.

There are many different interpretations as to what the wedding robe represents.  It could be faith or holiness of life or even charity.  Some connect it to the Book of Revelation where the faithful are clothed with a white robe.  Some say the robe would have been provided by the king while others hold each person would have been responsible for bringing his or her own robe.  It is not clear on whose side Jesus’ initial audience would have sided.  Would they have thought it offensive the guest appeared without the robe or would they have judged the king to be unreasonable given the last-minute invitation?

This much is clear.  As Jesus tells the story, every other guest manages to do something this one person does not.  His decision to appear without a robe is a conscious and deliberate choice.  I describe it as an act of defiant individualism.  He is willing to come to the wedding banquet, but only on his own terms. 

I have said before I believe one of the most important steps in our spiritual life is a move from a “me-orientation” to an “us-orientation.”  It is an important step in one’s family life, in one’s civic life, and in one’s religious life.  If you are going to have a healthy marriage, happy family, sustained employment, make contributions in the community where you live and the church where you worship, you are going to have to do two things.  First, you will have to discover what you can contribute to the common good and second, you must discern which of your personal desires and aspirations will need to be laid aside in order to become a part of something much bigger than yourself.

A newspaper article from the September 29 Carteret County News-Times illustrates what the opposite of defiant individualism looks like.  The report chronicles the experience of two Morehead City residents who rode out Hurricanes Irma and Maria on two different islands in the Caribbean.  One of these people is Sharp Kemp.  He and his wife, Margie, live on St. John’s and were there when Irma did significant damage and then when the island took a direct hit from Maria.  Allow me to read from the article:

Mr. Kemp wants to stay and rebuild his charter boat business, according to his father, Skip Kemp of Morehead City.

“He had three boats and lost two of them, but he’s alright,” said Mr. Kemp, who has sporadic contact with his son when he’s able to get a signal on the ravaged island.

“A lot of houses around them were destroyed, but they still have a roof,” said Skip Kemp. “Right now they are staying at [Margie’s] father’s house on the island.  They’re putting up about 20 people who have been displaced from their homes.”

He said Ms. Kemp’s father, Tom Coxe of Suffolk, Va., was on the island during Hurricane Maria.

“He had gone down to take relief supplies before Maria hit, and then he got stuck on the island.  He’s still there helping,” Mr. Kemp said.

Perhaps the opposite of defiant individualism is radical selflessness and hospitality – an orientation to employ who you are and what you have in the service of others.

The man without the wedding garment is judged rather harshly for his defiant individualism.  He is cast out of the wedding celebration where the community is gathered.  Focusing on self-interest alone actually has the effect of impoverishing his life.  The same judgment holds for anyone who presses upon others a defiant sense of individualism; be it in a family, a neighborhood, a community, or a church.  Such persons limit their world, their existence, and their spirit to their own finite vision of life; never once thinking they could find something greater if they just looked beyond themselves. 

Martin Luther talked about sin as being “incurvatus in se” – a state of being turned in on one’s self to such a degree that no one else matters.  In the final analysis, unwillingness to let go of self in order to join with others blocks a person’s path to fuller life in God’s kingdom. 

Through this parable, Jesus invites each of us to put on the garment of selfless humility and to join with a community of faithful believers in order to experience the richness and joy of God’s kingdom on earth.  How are you going to respond to this invitation?  What of yourself do you need to lay aside in order to accept it?

The Gospel's Soap

A priest and a man who owns a soap making business are walking down a city street.  The man says, “You know father, I don’t think the Christian message of repentance, forgiveness, and new life is doing much good.”  The priest inquires why his companion believes this.  His response: “Well, there are so many problems in the world and so many evil, nasty people.”  They continue to walk in silence.  After few blocks they happen upon a group of children covered in mud as they play in a dirty field.  The priest says, “I see your soap hasn’t done much good either.  Just think about all the dirty people out there.”  The man responds, “Oh, my soap only does its job when a person applies it.”  The priest says, “Well, the same holds true for the message of the Gospel.”

Deuteronomy 5:9 cannot be clearer: “You shall not bow down to [false idols] or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me.”  This teaching becomes deeply ingrained in the theology and psyche of the people of Israel.  But it runs deeper than believing the actions of the parents positively or negatively influence who their children become.  It believes God holds morally responsible children and grandchildren for the failures of the first generation; that they shoulder the punishment resulting from the sins of their ancestors. 

Well, this may not seem fair to you and, as we heard in today’s first reading, it certainly does not seem fair to the Israelites living in exile in Babylon.  They complain, “the parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.”  A more modern version might be “the parents ate all the candy, but the children got the cavities.”  If you are the second or third generation living in Babylon, it feels as if your fate has been sealed by something you never did.  You have been born into a massive debt you cannot possibly repay.  It does not seem fair.

God agrees.  God says, “From now on, only the person who sins shall be punished.  If a righteous person turns to iniquity, this person will suffer.  If a wicked person repents and does what is right, this person will flourish.”  I prefer the language of “suffer” over “death” and “flourish” as opposed to “be saved”, because these words preserve the connection between the goodness of what God commands and the effect they have on us as we adhere to them or turn away.  

Jesus draws deeply from the Ezekiel reading to craft the parable we heard this morning.  When asked by their father to work in the family vineyard, one son says no, but later changes his mind and works.  The other son says he will work, but never does.  Jesus tells the story to illustrate how “sinners” have believed in him, while religious leaders have rejected him. 

In plan words, it is not what you say that matters, it is what you do that counts.  There is an old saying sitting in a church every Sunday makes you no more a Christian than sitting in a garage makes you a car.  Doing the faith matters more than thinking the faith.  After Hurricane Harvey, Joel Osteen, whose sermons are seen by seven million people a week, was roundly criticized for not opening immediately his church building – a former sports arena – to people evacuated or flooded out of their home.  It just didn’t seem very Christian or caring.  It is not enough to talk the faith.  You have to do it.  Christianity has to be applied.       

The truth is, none of us is perfect, starting with me.  Standing on righteous soil, I make decisions all the time that lead to my suffering and, sadly, to the suffering of others.  And I don’t need to stand in this pulpit and work hard to convince you that you are the same.  We all identify with the phrase “You that have tried to follow, and you (like me) who have fallen short.”

The passage from Deuteronomy is grounded in God’s justice – in the belief some things are right, other things are wrong, and if you do what is wrong you will be punished.  Today’s readings from Ezekiel and the gospel are grounded in God’s mercy – in the belief God’s love for every human being is far more expansive than God’s justice.  Wrong is still wrong, but God’s strongest desire is for each person to repent, to change, and to flourish; to live a life that is blessed and is a blessing to others.  Unlike what the exiles in Babylon believe, we are not the victims of the sins of those who come before us.  We are free to turn and live.

It is a message Robert Robinson heard as he walked the streets on London on a beautiful Sunday morning some time in the 18^th century.  All around him he saw people hurrying to church, but even in the midst of this throng Robinson was all alone.   There was a time when church and practicing the faith was an integral and essential part of his life.  But for reasons lost to history, those days were gone and Robinson spent years and years rejecting the God he once loved.  Once his faith was fiery and passionate, but now it was dark and cold.

Robinson grew tired as he walked and hailed a passing carriage/cab.  When he saw in it a young woman dressed for church he waved on the driver, but the woman insisted they share the cab.  He accepted and introduced himself as Robert Robinson. Stunned, the young woman said, “This is such a coincidence because I am reading this book of inspirational writings and just came across these words by a Robert Robinson:

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace,
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.

Are you the author of these magnificent words,” she asked?  “I am,” Robinson confessed, “but that was a long time ago.”  He continued to read the very words he had penned at a different era in his life:   

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it—
Prone to leave the God I love;

Robinson was overcome with emotion and confessed, “I wrote these words—and I’ve lived these words.  ‘Prone to wander…prone to leave the God I love.’”  The young woman looked tenderly into Robert’s eyes and said softly, “Yes, and you also wrote,

Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for Thy courts above.

You can offer your heart again to God.  It is never too late.”  At this very moment, Robert Robinson turned his heart back to God and never turned away again.

We all carry burdens, some heavier or more poisonous than others.  Some came into our lives at childhood through no fault of our own, yet we still carry them today.  Others come from choices we make, sometimes daily.  We didn’t start out to be at this dark and destructive place, but here we are.  The good new in today’s readings is challenging news as well.  The son who refuses to do the will of his father can change his mind, roll up his sleeves, and get to work.  His fate is not sealed.  The punishment he merits is not irrevocable.  God, in God’s mercy, desires for each one of us to choose to do those things that will help us to flourish.  The offer to turn and live is unconditional. 

Thinking of your own life, where do you need to apply the Gospel’s soap?

Sameness / Deservedness / Need

I don’t know if families still do this today, but when I was growing up my parents assigned chores to my sisters and me.  We had to do things like clean the dishes, take out the trash, clean our rooms, and any other number of things I can’t remember.  As I recall, getting me to do my chores was itself a chore, so my parents added a little leverage called an “allowance.”  If we did our chores during the week we received money.  I recall my first allowance was 10 cents a week, which may not seem like much, but if I could get two pennies from my mother I had enough money to buy a comic book.  While having many benefits, the chore/allowance system created at least one problem – my sisters and I fought over whose chores were too hard or too easy and whose allowance was too big or too small based on our assigned tasks.  At its heart, it was battle was about fairness. 

Fairness is very important to us.  If you listen to talk radio or watch cable news programs, you will hear a lot of talk about fairness.  What is a fair hourly wage?  Is our tax system fair?  Does our legal system treat all people fairly?  The reason we argue about it is because, as with beauty, fairness is in the eye of the beholder.  Whereas justice is rooted in higher, universally accepted principles, fairness is something open to debate.

Arthur Dorbin, who teaches applied ethics at Hofstra University, says there are three different ways to approach fairness.  The first is sameness.  It is fair when everything is equal.  No one gets special treatment and no one has to bear an extra burden.  A second way to look at fairness is deservedness.  It is fair that you get what you earn and deserve.  If you do your chores you get your allowance.  If you don’t do your chores, you don’t get your allowance.  If you do extra chores, you get a bigger allowance.  The third notion of fairness is based on need.  It is fair for those who have more to give more than those who have little because we are linked by our common humanity and have a responsibility to care of one another.  It is not fair for one person to have abundance while another is in want.   

Because it can be grounded in sameness, deservedness, or need, fairness can be something of a moving target.  When I was a child and our family sat down at the dinner table, was it fair my father’s plate had more food on it than mine?  If fairness means sameness, no.  We should all have the exact same amount of food.  If fairness means deservedness, yes.  He worked to earn the money that bought the food, I didn’t.  If fairness means need, yes.  He was an adult, I was a child.  He needed more food than I did.

When the school board meets to make a budget, should it (A) spend the same amount of money on each child, (B) put more resources into gifted and advanced programs benefiting students who deserve it, or (C) allocate the most resources to the students with the greatest need?  What is fair?

A sales company with ten employees ends the year with a $100,000 profit.  What is a fair way to divide it?  Should each employee get $10,000 – sameness?  Or should each receive a bonus based on his or her percentage of the total sales – deservedness?  Or, let’s say one employ has incurred $50,000 in medical expenses because a family member has undergone cancer treatment.  Should he get half the profit while the other nine divide the rest – need?  

These different examples illustrate why there is so much debate about fairness in our society. 

This morning we listen to Jesus telling a story raising questions of fairness.  While the landowner is just when he pays the all-day workers the wage to which they agreed, they don’t think it is fair those who work less get paid the same.  Sameness doesn’t seem fair to them.  They deserve more than those who did not work as long. 

Here is a small detail to notice in the story.  The owner negotiates the terms of pay only with the initial workers.  The rate will be the “usual daily wage.”  This seems fair to both parties.  Each time the owner returns to the market place, he sees people “standing idle” and sends them to work with the promise he will pay them “whatever is right.”  I submit the owner’s sense of fairness is based on need.  Each worker needs a daily wage to survive.  And even more, each worker needs to move from idleness to productivity. 

Arthur C. Brooks writes this in his book The Conservative Heart:

There is a widening divide in this country… but it isn’t the gap in income per se.  It is the gap in dignity.  At root, to have dignity means to be worthy of respect… We sense our own dignity most clearly when we have tangible signs that our lives are creating value in the world.  This means ordinary work is a key driver of dignity for most people.  Whether the outside world sees a job as extraordinarily unique or completely mundane is mostly irrelevant.  “All labor that uplifts humanity” taught Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “has dignity and importance.”  Inversely, nothing is more destructive of people’s sense of dignity than idleness and the suspicion that one’s life is superfluous.

Work is not punishment.  It is one of the primary things we do to give us a sense of our value and worth.  Those standing idle in the marketplace don’t need a handout, they need an opportunity; for their self-esteem as well as to meet their material needs.

We understand that while Jesus tells a story about workers, he is not necessarily giving a lecture on labor practices.  He is describing how God’s abundant love, mercy, forgiveness and blessing is the same for everyone, but some people think this is not fair.  Some people believe they are better than others and thus deserve more from God.  Some people hold we are a Christian nation and have earned God’s favor, while others fear we are no longer a Christian nation and will no longer receive God’s blessing.  Through this parable Jesus is telling us God loves each person and God loves every nation.  So, as an example, every North Korean is as precious to God as every American.  This is kind of challenge today’s parable lays before us.

The story has a lot in common with the parable of the Prodigal Son.  Both have someone being grumpy at the end of the working day.  You may recall I told you once the word prodigal has two meanings.  The first is “spending money or resources freely and recklessly.”  The prodigal son was wasteful and imprudent.  The second meaning is “having or giving something on a lavish scale.”  Thus, it is entirely appropriate to talk of the prodigal father whose love and forgiveness is well beyond generous. 

This is the same kind of person we meet in the landowner in today’s parable.  He is fair because he gives to each as each person needs, not as each person deserves.  We ask God to answer our prayers “not as we ask in our ignorance, nor as we deserve in our sinfulness, but as you know and love us in your Son Jesus Christ.”  Our prayer is not, “Dear God, treat us all the same.”  And it is not, “Dear God, treat me as I deserve.”  Our prayer is, Oh God, see me for who I am and have mercy on me.  Please meet me where I am, love me, and stay with me.”  We want God’s fairness to be grounded in our need. 

So what does this say about how we advocate for fairness in our family, in our church, in our community, in our society, and in our world?

Forgiveness

The Parable of the Unmerciful Servant by Jan van Hemessen

I have had many pastoral conversations in the thirty years I have been ordained.  The most common involves a person in crisis or who has a loved one in crisis, typically health related.  The second most common conversation involves some aspect of forgiveness.  Almost always the person coming to see me is struggling to forgive someone. 

Jesus tells us to forgive a person seventy times.  He knits forgiveness into the very fabric of the prayer he teaches us to say every day.  Hanging on the cross his dying words are “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”  He even dares to make God’s forgiveness of our sins contingent on our ability to forgive others.

So we know we have to forgive, but there are times when it is hard, really hard.  In truth, it can be one of the most difficult practices of the Christian faith.  Over the course of my conversations with people, I have learned how wrong assumptions about forgiveness contribute to why we find it so difficult to do. 

Here is one wrong assumption I hear often: I am not very good at forgiving.  Most of us are much better at it than we realize because we do it all the time.  You are driving and the person in the car next to you does not see you and cuts you off.  When he realizes what he has done he waves his hand to say I am sorry.  All is forgiven and you get on with your day and with your life.  This kind of forgiveness happens all the time.

Here is another wrong assumption: if you forgive, everything will have to be like it was before.  Pope John Paul II visited his would-be assassin in prison to tell him he forgave him, but the assassin still remained incarcerated.  I read the story of a woman who shared something deeply personal with a trusted friend, asking it to be kept confidence, only to have that friend turn around and tell it to the members of their bible study group.  The woman eventually forgave her friend, but never again shared anything personal with her. 

Yes, you are to forgive a person seventy times, but after the second or third time you need to take steps to ensure the offender does not keep hurting you.  There are times when forgiveness involves moving forward by maintaining consistent boundaries about appropriate behavior.

Another wrong assumption: if you still feel hurt, pain, and/or anger then you have not really forgiven the person.  This week I watched a TED Talk by Sammy Rangel.  It is both inspiring and difficult to hear.   From the time he was three years old he endured his mother’s unimaginably brutal and degrading treatment until, at the age of 11, he ran away, lived on the streets, became a member of a gang, and fell into a life of drugs, crime, and violence.  He goes to prison at 17 and comes out, in his words, more animal than human.  His life begins to turn around the second time he is in jail as he participates in a counseling program and confronts his past.  Now in his forties, he has forgiven his mother, but as he tells his story, it is obvious the experiences he suffered still hurt. 

Extending forgiveness is just one step in what may be a long journey.  Some hurts never go away completely, nor should they.  But you want to work toward a point where they do not dominate your life.  At the end of his talk Rangel says this:

As you can see, getting to this point is still very difficult to talk about…  What I have learned is although the details of our lives may be different the underlying process of getting stuck or suffering in our parts of life is the same for all of us.  We do not have to be victims of our experiences or in the way that we tell our stories but interestingly enough, stories are the only way out and it is us who creates those stories.  We hold the power to change our stories and what they represent.  I invite all of you to consider if it would serve you well to create a new story and a new path and to please remember that the things that held you down will one day hold you up.

Today Rangel has a Master’s Degree in Social Work and is helping young men and women get out of gangs and hate groups.

Emmett Aldrich, a mediator who uses Christian principles to help people resolve conflicts, writes this:

Healing from a hurt may generally come with the passage of time, but you must allow yourself time to reach the level of forgiveness appropriate for the circumstances.  Deeply emotional circumstances or extremely sensitive hurts… will take time to move beyond the hurt before a person can even begin to consider forgiving those who caused the hurt. 

When you are deeply wounded it is difficult to generate forgiveness, but your wounds won’t heal unless you forgive.  In his book There is No Future without Forgiveness, Desmond Tutu tells the story of two former soldiers visiting the Vietnam War Memorial.   One veteran asks the other, “Have you forgiven those who held you as a prisoner of war?”   The other answers, “I will never forgive them!”  The first veteran responds, “Then it seems they still have you in prison, don’t they?”  In his book What’s So Amazing about Grace, Philip Yancey writes, “Not to forgive imprisons me in the past and locks out all potential for change.  I thus yield control to another, my enemy, and doom myself to suffer the consequences of the wrong.”  When you forgive you let go of being a victim and begin to live your life again.

This also is from Emmett Aldrich:

Forgiveness is perhaps one of the most emotional and psychological experiences we will ever encounter.  It involves feelings of anger, revenge, resentment, hurt, hostility, sadness, bitterness, retaliation or retribution.  At the same time, depending on whether we are seeking forgiveness, are asked to forgive someone else or forgive ourselves, it can also involve reconciliation, compromise, concessions, contrition, atonement, repentance or redemption. 

The reason God forgives us is to create the possibility we can grow and become a better person.  We extend forgiveness to others in the hope they will grow and become better people.  Not to forgive locks the other person in his or her mistake and none of us should be defined by our worst moments.  The core of who we are is set at baptism.  Each of us is a beloved child of God and we are related to one another as members of a household of faith.  When we are wronged this relationship is damaged, and when we forgive we do our part to help it be restored.  This is what God does for us and it is why God asks us to forgive each other. 

I really struggled writing this sermon.  This past week I had two more conversations with parishioners struggling with forgiveness, so I wanted the sermon to be a perfect and definitive statement on how and why to do it.  I have come to see that forgiveness is not a mechanical act nor is there a recipe for how to do it.  Each hurt is as unique as the person who experiences it and forgiveness is more an art than a science.  Please know if you are struggling to forgive you are always welcome to come and talk with me.