Two Letters While I was Away

 

Luke 17:11-19

Proper 23 / Year C

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

The church where I grew up presented a bible to every child when he or she was in the 2nd Grade.  I still have mine in my office.  Covered in black leather with gold lettering, it is a copy of the Revised Standard Version, with a concordance.  My name is embossed in gold on the lower right-hand front of the cover.  The very first page indicates who it has been presented to.  Someone from the church went to the trouble of writing my name on this page and included the date: May 25, 1969. 

The person also referenced a bible verse: II Timothy 2:15.  It doesn’t include the verse, only its citation, which we heard read just moments ago:

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.

It has always been one of my favorite verses in all of Scripture, I suspect, in part, because it was referenced in the bible given to me by my home church.

Even more, it has always felt like marching orders, of a sort.  If it was the only verse of the bible I had, it would chart a pretty good course for me to follow in life.  “Do your best to present yourself as one approved, with no need to be ashamed.”  I have strived to live up to this high standard and have not always made it. 

The biblical word for ’sin’ is a term used in archery and means “missing the mark.”  Sometimes you miss the mark because the arrow flies high or wide of the target.  Other times you miss the mark because the arrow never gets to the target.  This happens when the archer does not pull back the bowstring far enough.  In this sense, we “fall short” because we simply do not try hard enough to hit the target. 

I can honestly say when I have missed the mark of God’s high calling for me, it wasn’t for lack of trying.  I have done my best, but there have been times when it wasn’t good enough.

But, like the lepers Jesus meets in today’s gospel reading, I find myself being made “clean” by the grace of God.  Forgiveness is real and it is essential.  It is something for which I continually offer thanks.  It gives me confidence that my best, while not perfect, is good enough.  Thanks be to God.  May you know this spiritual peace in your heart and mind and soul as you strive to do your best.

Keith+

Luke 18:1-8

Proper 24 / Year C

My Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

According to Webster’s Dictionary, the word “persistence” means “a firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.”  It comes to us from two Latin roots, one which means “forward” and the other which means “come to a stand.”  In this sense, persistence is a trait we exhibit by moving forward when forces want us to stand still.

It takes no small amount of persistence to navigate our way through life.  You will need great persistence if you are engaging with the health care system, an insurance claim of any kind, or just about anything having to do with government—especially the DMV or IRS.  If I ever get married again, my wife will be incredibly persistent in these areas, because I am not.  I expect the system to work after one call or visit.  Any more than two or three cracks at it and I give up.  I demonstrate anything but “obstinate continuation.”

When St. Paul writes his first letter to the church in Thessalonica he admonishes them to “pray without ceasing” (5:17).  Of course he is not directing them to be in church on their knees 24/7.  He is describing a spiritual mindset in which a person is in frequent, if not constant, communication with God. 

Jesus points to this posture as well in this morning’s reading from the gospel of Luke.  He wants to tell his followers why it is important to pray always and not to lose heart.  And, as he often does, Jesus makes his point by telling a story—a parable, which often has an ‘over the top’ quality to it.  Today’s parable is known as “The Persistent Widow and the Unjust Judge.”  In the story the judge refuses to do the right thing for a widow who has been wronged.  But because she is the epitome of obstinate continuation, he finally relents simply to get her out of his hair (and courtroom). 

Jesus asks his listeners this: “If the unjust judge who cares nothing for anybody will eventually do what you ask if you keep asking, how much more will our loving and caring God do for you?

There are some prayers we offer which take time to be answered.  One example—when you or a loved one is diagnosed with cancer.  A prayer pleading for it simply to go away—to disappear—most likely will go unanswered.  Remission and a clean bill of health will take months or even years.  It is easy (if not expected) to lose heart in the process. 

Praying ceaselessly looks like praying for an ultimate healing, but also praying for today.  What challenges do you face today?  Where or from whom will strength and encouragement come today?  Will I be able to handle a set back today?  Will I be able to experience the joy of living today, even though I am sick? 

This is what praying ceaselessly looks like and it is what Jesus encourages us to do.  It is how we are encouraged to approach all of life—firmly moving forward in life in spite of difficulty or opposition supported and encouraged by prayer.

Keith+

 

Small Steps toward Increased Faith

 

Luke 17:5-10

Proper 22 / Year C

The Apostles have been with Jesus for some time.  They have witnessed his miracles.  They have heard his profound teachings.  They have seen him challenge the corrupt establishment.  Each of his actions has been grounded in a captivating spirituality; enticing them from their homes and families and careers in order to follow Jesus from town to town and encounter to encounter. 

In today’s gospel reading the Apostles come to Jesus with a request: “Lord, increase our faith.”  “Help us to do what you do.”  That Luke says it is the Apostles who approach Jesus, not the broader, more diverse followers he calls ‘disciples’, is significant.  The Apostles are the ones who one day will be the leaders of the Early Church.  They will be the ones who travel much of the known world proclaiming Jesus as the Risen Lord.  They will be the ones who willingly welcome martyrdom rather than shrink back from their witness to the truth.

“Increase our faith.”  Jesus responds with two teachings.  First, he says if your faith is the size of just a tiny seed you will have the ability to uproot a tree and cast it into the sea.  Then he reminds them of the role of a servant who, after working in the field all day, still comes into the house and serves his master a meal; all the while believing he is doing merely what is required of him.

The image of the seed directs our attention not to the Red Sea-parting, spectacular acts of faith, but to the simple, basic, day-to-day encounters which come our way.  Your faith may be tested by the earthshaking events of your life, but it is built over time in small, perhaps imperceptible ways. 

Our prayers are with all of the people whose lives have been devasted by Hurricanes Fiona and Ian.  I cannot begin to imagine what they have endured, what they have lost, what they now bear, and what they will have to face.  If Jesus is right about faith being like a small seed than their challenges will have to be met one small step at a time.  They will have to be able to celebrate one small victory at a time.  Strong faith is able to detect God working in seemingly insignificant ways which, over time, redeem and transform the world. 

Today we celebrate St. Francis Day.  Now Francis did many fantastic things in his life.  He renounced his share of the family fortune and embraced a life of poverty.  He worked mightily to repair dilapidated church buildings across Europe.  He formed faith communities which changed and shaped the Western world; communities which thrive to this day.  He confronted corruption and apathy in the Church and initiated reforms bringing new life to a tired, crusty institution.

And given all these incredible things, what is it we remember most about Francis?  We remember he was kind to animals.  And we remember through his reference to brother sun and sister moon how Francis’ sense of spirituality was grounded in a vital connection with the beauty of nature.  Surely these are the smallest aspects of the great works he accomplished in life, but it is exactly their smallness which is most telling.

Every now and then, someone will say something to me like “I don’t know how a person can join the ordained ministry or become a missionary because I don’t have that kind of faith.”  I respond most people don’t seek ordination or a mission field because they have profound faith, but because they have a deep sense of being called by God.  I have heard colleagues describe fighting off the calling for a long time and never having peace until they embraced it.  I have never heard a colleague directly connect their ordination to having great faith.

Perhaps this surprises you, but it shouldn’t.  Faith is more closely related to the small acts than to a huge commitment.  Jesus said as much when he taught the person who is faithful in a little will also be faithful in much.  You increase your faith one small step at a time.

The story about the servant also says something significant about the ‘littleness’ of faith.  It suggests you build you faith not on the mountaintop, not in a great cathedral, not in the spectacular moment, but in the regular course of the daily round… where you live, in the common tasks you do, face-to-face with the people of your community.  It is formed and fashioned through attentiveness to others.  It is formed and fashioned by participation in community worship and perseverance in private prayer.  It is formed and fashioned through personal reflection.  It is formed and fashioned by applying what you know of the teachings of Christ to the mundane routines and unexpected encounters of your daily life.

Who among us wouldn’t want to have more faith?  Who among us doesn’t crave great personal reserves to draw upon when the chips are down?  Who among us wouldn’t like to have an inner strength which translates into profound outward action?  Jesus tells the Apostles their faith can grow, and will grow, if they commit themselves to doing it one small step at a time.

Heading Home

 

Luke 16:19-31

Proper 21 / Year C

I am trying to get my head around the fact two weeks from today I will be crossing from Portugal into Spain… on foot!  This will be the third pilgrimage I make with friends from our diocese and it has been three years in the offing; postponed in 2020 and 2021 by the pandemic.  On previous pilgrimages I have learned how, in this age of interstate highways, jet planes, and space travel, we humans are still hardwired to engage the world at a walking pace.  Anything more than this, while efficient, is not natural to who we are.  So I look forward to being with friends and living for nine days at a speed for which we all are ideally suited. 

I am not looking forward to the process of getting to Portugal or returning home.  Maybe it is due to limited travel since the onset of Covid, or maybe I am just getting old and set in my ways, but the flight itinerary – along with getting to Dulles Airport and going through customs – feels daunting.  There is a part of me that just wants to stay home.

We get why Laura Ingalls Wilder held “home is the nicest word there is.”  And now, with the days getting shorter, our homing instinct is becoming stronger.  Home is a place which can be both a safe haven and stifling, all at the same time.  Home, at its worst, is a place to hideout, disengaging from challenge and growth.

An author once wrote this after witnessing a bald eagle swoop down and take a fish out of a lake:

That magnificent bird had emerged from its fragile shell, as helpless as we were at birth.  But it survived, because of the nest.  Then feathers grew.  The eyes brightened.  The talons strengthened.  One day the bird stood poised upon the nest and all the future of its life lay before it, the vista vast, the glorious rivers and forests and fountains of the earth.  To take possession of it, however, he had to stretch his wings, take the daring leap, trust the air, have faith in whatever great eagle gods there are and go!  The instinct to fly and the instinct to nest met in that moment.  There comes a point in everyone’s spiritual life when that issue is joined and must be faced.

“Home,” T.S. Eliot observed, “is where one starts from.”  It is not necessarily a place to stay.  Bob Dylan once said, “I was born a long way from where I belong and I am on my way home.”  I was born a long way from where I belong.  Warsan Shire, a Somali-born British poet, posits, “At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from.  Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been.”

Walking pilgrimages have only served to reinforce for me this possibility.  It is why the metaphor of pilgrim and pilgrimage is one of the most popular ways to think of the Christian faith and life.  “Life,” Paulo Coelho holds, “is a long pilgrimage from fear to love.”  We are on a journey from where we are from to where we are going. 

We here this morning come from different places, backgrounds, and experiences, but we are all on a pilgrimage to the same place.  We are all headed toward our heavenly home.  And we hope, over the course of our pilgrimage through life, our lives will become more and more reflective of the way life will be lived when we are at home in God.  Our hope for this life, so beautifully expressed in today’s collect, is by God’s grace we who are running to obtain God’s promises may become partakers of God’s heavenly treasure.  Or, as Paul admonishes his protégé Timothy in today’s second lesson, “take hold of the life that really is life.”

I share all of this with you as a way to enter into this morning’s reading from the Gospel of Luke – the parable of the Rich Man (who feasts ‘sumptuously’ at every meal) and Lazarus, a poor, ailing beggar who day after day lays outside the gate of the rich man’s house, hoping for just a scrape of food to fall his way.  We can say of the rich man he is ‘home’, which is to say he is certain there is nothing more beyond what he already knows and has.  He estimates he is where he belongs.  He is on his way to nowhere.  There is nowhere he wants to go, which is a way of saying there is no one he feels a need to become. 

But, no matter how much he fails to consider the possibility, there is a home beyond his earthly home.  And even though his present home has its pantries stocked with the finest foods and its closets stuffed luxurious linens, there is a heavenly home which far surpasses this; not because it has grander material possessions, but because it is steeped in the glory of God and teems with pure affection for one another.

The Rich Man in the parable misses out on this not because of his wealth, but because of his indifference.  He displays none of the qualities Paul encourages Timothy to cultivate: righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness.  And some of Timothy’s flock must have been fairly well-to-do, because Paul writes this to the young pastor:

As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.  They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future.

None of this is possible until you leave the secluded privilege of your present setting in order to move toward the place and the person God would have you become; until you become aware of what is happening outside the door of your sheltered environment and respond to it.  Ernest Kurtz, author of the wonderfully titled book A Spirituality for the Imperfect, writes “A journey becomes a pilgrimage as we discover, day by day, that the distance traveled is less important than the experience gained.”  May you, day in and day out, experience something of your heavenly home and may it more and more become who you are, how you live, and what you have to offer to others.

A Trickster Turns His Ways

 

Luke 16:1-13

Proper 20 / Year C

Let me tell you a story from ancient Hebrew folklore:

A poor beggar is caught stealing food and the king orders him to be hanged.  On the way to the gallows the thief tells the executioner he knows how to plant a pomegranate seed in the ground and have it produce fruit the very next day.  “My father taught me this secret,” he says, “and it would be a shame to allow it to die with me.”  This gets back to the king and he orders the prisoner to be brought to him. 

A gathering of the highest officers of state assembles for the demonstration.  The beggar digs a hole in their presence and produces a single seed.  Then he states, “The only way for this secret to work is for a person who has never stolen or taken anything which did not belong to him to place the seed into the ground.”  “Being a convicted thief,” he says, “I can no longer do it.  One of you will have to place the seed in the hole.”  Well, one by one, each high-ranking official, realizing his past misdeeds will be exposed when the seed does not produce fruit the next day, bows out. 

When no one steps forward, the beggar says, “All of you are mighty and powerful and want for nothing and yet you cannot plant the seed, while I, who have stolen a little because I was starving, am going to be hanged.”  The king, pleased with the ruse, pardons the beggar.

This is one of many Hebrew stories demonstrating an affinity for what commentators describe as the “clever trickster.”  The biblical figure Jacob is a trickster patriarch who deceives his father, cheats his brother, and then makes off with the family’s livestock.  Gideon fools a powerful army by making 300 men appear to be 300,000.  And in the parable we just heard, Jesus tells the tale of a person known as the “dishonest steward;” a trickster, if you will, whose shrewd response to his impending dismissal is commended by the master he has failed to serve with fidelity.

To our modern ears the parable sounds like a barbershop quartet off pitch.  It is one thing for Tom Sawyer to con his friends into painting a fence (our version of a clever trickster); it is another to sell out your master’s possessions at a discount.  But if we can separate out the various notes within the chaotic chord of the story, we will find there is something important here for us to hear.  We might learn why Jesus has the master praise the servant.

The parable begins, as several do, with the phrase “There was a rich man…”  But the rich man will not be the central figure in the drama and the story is not a condemnation of his wealth.  No remark will be made about the rich man’s possessions, how he comes to acquire them, or how he uses them to promote the welfare and wellbeing of others.  The wealthy man himself appears to live a life of leisure, not working at all.  We know just two things about him.  He rents out his land to others and he hires a manager to oversee the collection of the rent.

This is a story about the crafty trickster who is hired to oversee the rent collecting.  Although his lifestyle is not described, it does not take much imagining to deduce he is a devil-may-care, live for the moment, loaf.  He has no aspirations for the future.  He does not save for a rainy day.  He is unwilling to do physical labor in order to improve his lot.  He does nothing to further himself intellectually, socially, or spiritually.  He cannot keep current even on his one simple task – collecting the rent.  We get the idea he sits around the master’s house all day with his feet up on the furniture, drinking the best liquor from the master’s cabinet, eating all his gourmet food, and smoking his finest cigars.

The New International Version of the bible puts it best” the steward “was accused of wasting [the rich man’s] possessions.”  He is lost in a frivolous haze of material acquisition and consumption.  His life is wrapped up in the feverish pursuit of more than he really needs, in getting his hands on what no one really needs at all, and not valuing what he has, once he has it.  What he most desires and craves is not what is really important at all, and thus he wastes the precious resources at his disposal.  Everything changes in one dramatic, unexpected moment.  The rich man comes to him with a devastating demand: “Give me an account of your management.” 

Every month I are blessed or cursed with an account of my financial management.  Banks and credit card companies send me statements to tell us what I bought, when I bought it, and how much I paid for it.  More than once I have looked at my statement and wondered for a moment what some of your month-old purchases were for; then it comes to me and I have “buyer’s regret”.  Taken as a whole, these financial documents may just be a record of my squandered wealth.

The demand for an accounting sobers up the dishonest steward.  He comes to see two things very clearly.  First, he recognizes he has not made prudent provision for the future.  Second, he comes to realize he has put possessions before people.

Given these, here are some things for us to ponder.    There is a power for living in the present possible only when you are laying a foundation for the future.  There is fullness to life when the excesses of wealth are directed toward hospitality, compassion, thoughtfulness, and charity.  Don’t be thrifty in your generosity toward others.  Don’t skimp when it comes to saving for tomorrow.  The dishonest steward with an overly lavish, succulent lifestyle comes to these truths late in life, but not too late, and for his insight and change the rich man who dismissed him commends him.

This email was circulated some time ago, but it still makes a relevant point:

Take this quiz:

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2. Name the last five people who won the Nobel Peace Prize.

3. Name the last five Academy Award winners for best actor or best actress.

4. Name the last five winners of the Super Bowl.

How did you do?   The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.  These are no second-rate achievers.  They are the best in their fields.  But the applause dies.  Awards tarnish.  Achievements are forgotten.  Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here’s another quiz.  See how you do.

1. List five teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name five friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3. Think of five people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

4. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?  The Lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards.  They are the ones that care.

The great thing about this difficult parable is that if a dishonest trickster could come to his senses and get it right, how much easier should it be for folks like you and me!

Accompanying vs. Following

 

Luke 14: 25-33

Proper 18 / Year C

Looking back over my records, I noticed when I was an assistant, every time today’s gospel lesson came up, the rector asked me to preach.  That ought to tell you something!  What Jesus says this morning is difficult to hear.  It would be easier if we could dismiss this passage, but our respect for Holy Scripture—all of it—as being the Word of God does not allow for this.  We must wrestle with it, and with ourselves, if we are going to hear, understand, and apply the life-giving message which is found within all the words of our Lord.

Sometimes the key to understanding a passage lies in what seems to be insignificant, an easy to over-look detail.  Notice the first few words of our lesson: “Large crowds were traveling with Jesus.”  A different translation makes the point more clearly, “Great multitudes accompanied Jesus.”  We don’t find that hard to imagine.  Of course folks were attracted to him.  He healed.  He fed.  He gave interesting sermons.  He confronted injustice, oppression, and religious hypocrisy.  It is easy to understand why lots of people wanted to accompany Jesus.  But there is a huge difference between accompanying and following. 

Many are willing to be served, few are willing to serve.  Many are willing to have Jesus sacrifice for them, few are willing to sacrifice for Jesus.  Many people are willing to hang around, few are willing to be disciples.  Many are willing to let Jesus carry their crosses, few are willing to pick up their own cross and follow him.

So Jesus pauses to address those who are tagging along, whose glossy commitment is shiny, but paper thin.  Jesus knows something they don’t.  He knows there will come a time when they will be dragged from their homes and put on trial because of their association with him.  He knows their families will be beaten and tortured and forced to testify against them.  He knows there will be no middle ground where they will be able to stand half-way between the world and discipleship. 

And so his words, which seem to be harsh, are, in fact, loving.  He reminds them of the true cost of following him.  They will have to be willing to forfeit everything precious to them, even their blood relatives, if they opt to be his disciple.  He tells those who would hitch their cart to his horse they are in for a bumpy ride. 

If those who accompany Jesus are going to buy fully into his program they will need to know the cost.  Jesus says to them, and to us, “If you would be my disciple—not just someone who merely accompanies me, but who devoutly follows me—you must pick up your own cross and walk with me every day in every way.” 

It is a teaching which brings to mind yet another memory, and yes, it involves pain.  I was an avid bicycle rider when we lived in Ohio.  One of my favorite places to ride was in the Cuyahoga River Valley National Park.  You may remember, years ago, the Cuyahoga was so polluted it actually caught on fire.  Those days are long gone and that incident does not do justice to the beauty and the serenity of the valley.  The park is now a wonderful place to visit, especially on a bike.

Getting into the valley by bicycle is no problem because, as you might guess, it is all downhill.  Riding in the valley is, again, no problem because, for the most part, it is flat.  But getting out of the valley, now this is a real physical and mental challenge!  The hills are incredibly long and steep—the kind where your car’s transmission struggles even after it has kicked into low gear.  As I pedaled up those hills my lungs burned with pain and my legs screamed in agony.  Inching forward at a snail’s pace, it can take twenty minutes or longer to get up even the most modest hill out of the valley.  Don’t even ask why not just walk up.  It simply is not an option for a true bicycle rider.

However, the more I rode up out of the valley, I more began to notice something.  With each successive trip, the hills got a little bit easier to manage.  Sure, it still hurt, but the pain was not as severe and it didn’t take nearly as long to recover.  I found myself getting stronger and stronger the more I pushed myself up those hills.

For me, picking up my cross is like that.  It is wonderful to breeze down into the valley of easy living.  It is great to have those moments of peace and serenity.  But there come times, more often and difficult for some than others, when we must pick up our cross and make a grueling journey out of the valley.  How many people have found how many ways to avoid this course?  And yet, we find as we pick up our cross, and the more we pick it up, it is not as burdensome as we feared it would be.  It does not destroy us, but rather makes us stronger. 

Still, there is no way to soft sell it. 

If you are going to follow Jesus, then there are crosses you will have to bear.  You will be asked to grieve with those who mourn.  You will be asked to celebrate with those who are joyful.  You will be asked to give sacrificially of your wealth so the Gospel message might go forth.  You will be asked to serve and to contribute, even when it is not convenient.  You will be asked to forgive when everything inside you screams for vengeance.  You will be asked to confess when all you want to do is hide.  You will be asked to proclaim words of hope when despair abounds.  You will be asked to expose yourself to ridicule by not valuing the things the world values as the world values them.  You will be asked to seek and serve Christ by loving the most unlovable people.  You will be asked to lay down your rights and your privileges and perhaps even your life for the greater good of the Kingdom. 

On the surface it doesn’t sound like much of a bargain, does it?  But Christ has revealed to us the way of the Cross is none other than the way of life.   And Christ himself promises we will not go it alone.  He does not say to us, “Pick up your cross and get going somewhere.”  Rather, he says, “Pick up your cross and follow me.”  If we follow Jesus then we are with Jesus and he is with us and we are never alone and our crosses are so much easier to bear when we walk with the one who has won the ultimate victory.

 

Quid - This!

 

Luke 14:1, 7-14

Proper 17 / Year C

Ah, another gospel reading and another painful, personal memory.  It happened years ago at a clergy conference where meals were served buffet style.  I spied a table with an open seat.  Others had already put down their trays, but had gone off to get a beverage.  I sat down.  A few moments later who should take the place across from me… none other the Peter James Lee, the distinguished bishop of our diocese.  Others from his entourage soon filled the table.  Unknowingly, I had seated myself way above by paygrade.  Surely, I thought, he would rather have as a meal companion almost any other priest in the room.  Well, as I recall, we all had a pleasant enough conversation and at the end I thanked everyone for allowing me to join them. 

Where is the pain you ask?  Well, at the very next meal the same scenario unfolded – open space at a table with trays put down and people gone for beverages.  I sit down.  A few moments later, who should take a seat across from me?  You got it – the bishop.  While it was an innocent mistake on my part, I knew it was a complete overreach to have not one, but two meals in row with the bishop at a clergy conference.  I imagined he was going to say to me, “Keith, I am going to have to ask you to move because I have someone else who wants to eat with me,” but he didn’t.  Phew!  Still, you can be absolutely certain at the next meal (and every meal thereafter) I made sure I saw where the bishop set down his tray so that I could stay as far away from that table as possible.

This morning we find Jesus in the home of a Pharisee sharing an invitation only, communal meal on the Sabbath.  The guests are “watching” Jesus closely.  He too is watching them.  Jesus notices how they jostle for seats to gain positions of honor.  He tells them a parable which ends in a horrible social embarrassment.  “What if your host asks you to move because someone more important than you deserves of your place?”  “Humble yourself and you may just be exulted.  Exult yourself and you may just be humbled”.

Well, it is tempting to interpret this as being no more than a simple lesson in etiquette, but I think something deeper is going on.  In that culture, at meals like the one Jesus is attending, seating position matters.  The closer you are to host, the more important you are (or feel you are).  Your value is determined not by your moral qualities or your hard work or your accomplishments.  It is determined by your physical proximity to the host.

Perhaps the closest thing to this in our day and age is name-dropping.  I have known a few shameless name-droppers and they are all the same.  They feel important because they know or have met someone important.  And, because you have not met that important person, you are not as important as the name-dropper. 

Just as Jesus did not respond well to a presumed sense of personal enrichment, neither do we.  Dr. Carmen Lebherz, of the University of Zurich, devised an ingenious experiment to confirm this.  She sent slightly different email messages to groups of undergraduates in which the sender indicates a desire to meet potential collaborators on a future research project.   

Each group received the same standard information about the researcher’s background, goals, and appropriate personal information. She introduced only one variable.  An email to one group included the addition the sender plays tennis regularly with Roger Federer – one of the all-time greats of the sport.  To a second group she noted she had once met Roger Federer.  To the third she stated she was a fan of Roger Federer.  To the final group she mentioned nothing about the tennis star at all.  

Dr. Lebherz surveyed the email recipients to rate their interest in being research partners with the sender.  Do I even need to tell you the results?  The higher the degree of name-dropping, the lower the desire to be involved with the project.

Jesus, in what he presents to his host, offers a different possibility.  Instead of inviting all these people who are seeking to capitalize off of your position, and who, no doubt, expect you to come to their homes when they host a splashy occasion, why not invite people who can never repay you?

I am sure you are familiar with the Latin phrase quid pro quo – “this for that.”  Just like the adage, “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” it implies we live in a transactional economy.  And we do.  The local grocery store is not going to let you walk out with a $2 ear of corn! without paying for it.  Neither are you going to walk in and hand the manager a $20 bill because you just want to give your money to the store.  Quid pro quo.  This for that. 

But Jesus, in his words to his host, directs our attention to a spiritual economy, which is every bit as real and every bit as necessary as the transactional.  “When you host a get-together, do not invite the people who will one day reciprocate.  Look around your community and invite also folks who, most likely, will never be able to repay the favor.”  Jesus invites us to live our lives as quid – this. 

Theologically, it is easy enough to discern the justification for this.  Ponder only slightly what God has given you, done for you, forgiven you, and you will realize you will never be able to sacrifice enough to repay for it all.  What can you do it this: extend God’s mercies which you have been blessed to receive to everyone you know.

Let me finish by sharing with you a wonderful memory not at all associated with being seated in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It has to do with the blessings of hosting a party and who you invite.

So, years ago, when I was serving as an assistant in a parish in Ohio, a couple who had been successful in every way, shape, and form, decided to celebrate their 50^th wedding anniversary by taking a month-long cruise around the Mediterranean.  But before they embarked on their well-deserved, dream trip she was diagnosed with cancer.  Family, friends, the church, and the health community rallied to their side, but the trip was canceled.  Thankfully, she responded well to treatment and recovered, but they made the decision not to rebook the trip.

Instead, they decided to throw a massive party at the local country club to thank all their friends and supporters.  I can’t say the guest list was exactly like what Jesus would have drawn it up based on today’s reading, but it did include me, which was reaching low! 

I think about that occasion from time to time.  It was, hands down, the best social event I have ever attended.  The host and the hostess where the happiest, most grace-filled people I have ever witnessed in that position.  They determined they wanted to celebrate the blessings of their life, their marriage, and their health with the widest community possible.  They embodied the Godly ideal of quid – this, without anything expected in return. 

I think about that couple this morning as I ponder Jesus’ counsel to his host and to the guests.  I share it with you as something for you to ponder.  I trust you will not take it as a directive, but as a Godly possibility.  I know you will consider not only it what it means for the parties you host or that you attend, but also how it might affect your witness to your faith in every aspect of your daily life.

 

The Woman Bent Over

 

Luke 13:10-17

Proper 16 / Year C

This morning’s gospel reading about a woman bent over being healed brings to mind a painful personal memory.  My daughter Ellen was around five years old and we were playing in a local swimming pool.  She loved to be picked up and tossed high in the air.  The higher the toss, the bigger the splash!  She would swim right back to me and insisted I throw her again.  She could do this for hours.  I could not.  One time she was swimming beside me and I twisted my back, grabbed hold of her, turned, and tossed.  You don’t have to be clairvoyant to know where this story is going.  I wrenched my lower back.  I bothered me for the better part of a year.  And no, of course I never went to see a doctor. 

It was a stressful time in the life of our family.  My wife was not able to be employed if the field of her choice.  We were losing ground financially.  I was in the midst of searching for a new call and this became known to the parish when a small group of strangers from a search committee showed up in church one Sunday.  There is nothing pleasant about being a lame-duck priest.  And my lower back hurt. 

In my experience, at least, the process of finding a new position as a clergy person is not easy.  It is marked by periods of highs and lows, inactivity and frenzied deadlines.  This long process came to a merciful end when I accepted a call from a church in Richmond, where I served for ten years before coming here. 

I tell you this story because the morning after I accepted that call I woke up, got out of bed, and realized for the first time in over a year my back did not hurt.  What began as a legitimate physical injury was prolonged because emotional stress will always metastasize at the weakest part of our bodies.  Take away the stress and the physical problem may just go away.

Webster’s Dictionary defines ‘psychosomatic’ as “a disorder of the body originating in or aggravated by the psychic or emotional process of the individual.”  It can run the gamut from a mild form of hypochondria to actual blindness or paralysis.  I once read a book were the author contended some people actually develop cancer as a response to emotional stress.  I know of one such person in my ministry who may have had this happen to him.  When his stress was alleviated, he responded positively to treatment.

The text doesn’t tell us what caused the women Jesus meets today to be bent over.  No doubt there is a physical component to her suffering.  But surely there are mental and emotional aspects which contribute to her chronic condition.  She lives in a small village where everyone knows your story and everyone knows your business.  There is no place to hide.  There is nowhere to get away from critical eyes.  And, based on how the religious leaders react to Jesus, there are a lot of well-placed, highly critical people in her community.  It may or may not have caused this woman to be bent over, but you can be sure it contributed to her suffering.

In his book Jesus the Village Psychiatrist, Donald Capps notes there are three different definitions for the word “miracle.”  The first is “an event or action that apparently contradicts known scientific laws and is hence thought to be due to supernatural causes.”  In this sense, a miracle defies explanation.  The second definition is “a remarkable event or thing.”   Used in this manner, a miracle is a marvel.  And the third definition holds “a miracle is a wonderful example.” 

Notice that all three aspects of the word miracle are present in today’s reading.  When the woman is able to stand erect, she begins to praise God.  She senses straight away her healing is due to a divine act.  Jesus, in confronting the religious authorities, treats the event as being a wonderful example of doing good, even and especially on the Sabbath.  And the people who witness all of this rejoice at the “wonderful things” Jesus is doing.

For Jesus there is no time better than right now to alleviate human suffering and indignity.  He demonstrates not just God’s power, but even more so, God’s compassion for each and every one of us.

Where does this holy compassion come from?

In this morning’s first reading we hear God issue a prophetic call to Jeremiah, who is a mere youth at the time.  The Lord justifies this action by saying to the lad, “Before you were in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you.”  It is amazing to ponder God’s deep love for Jeremiah, and for you and me, began before we even were conceived. 

I recall vividly how powerfully I was overcome with love the very moment the nurse handed our first child to me and I held her.  It was like being hit by a lightning bolt.  And I have been wondering how expectant mothers bond with the person developing in their wombs.  Is there a single moment when you recognize your love for the baby you are carrying or does it grow over time?

Well, thinking back on those times of birth in your life will give you some insight into how God feels about you and why God feels this way.  God rejoices when you rejoice.  God laughs when you laugh.  God weeps when you weep.  God suffers when you suffer.  And when you need it most, God heals when you hurt.  We see this so clearly in what Jesus does for the woman bent over.  No critic or misapplied custom is going to prevent him from restoring her to fulness of life and dignity. 

I pray you will be able look at every person you know and you encounter and recognize him or her as deeply know by God from before conception and completely loved.  And I pray you will have eyes to see yourself in this same light.