Risen with Healing in Its Wings

 

Malachi 4:1-2

Proper 28 / Year C

This morning’s first reading is taken from the Book of Malachi, the last of a series of twelve Old Testament writings known as the Minor Prophets.  Some background on its historical setting helps to put its message in context:

·       The Hebrew people exiled in Babylon for two generations return to Jerusalem in 539 BC.

·       Having been sacked back in 587 BC and left unattended, the Temple is in ruins and much of the city, including its walls, is in disrepair.

·       Through much hard work and sacrifice and thanks to the leadership of Haggai and Zechariah, the community is able to rededicate the Temple in 515.

·       After this, Ezra, a priest, and Nehemiah, the governor, marshal the effort needed to repair the walls and gates.

The people of Jerusalem are feeling pretty good about all they have accomplished and what they have become.  Into this moment steps Malachi, whose name which means “my messenger.”  And Malachi’s message, in a nutshell, is this: You have tended to the infrastructure of your city but have neglected the soul-structure of your community. 

The Book of Malachi contains six short sermons which comprise its message.  These are some of the themes they touch on:

·       The priests have failed the people by offering inferior worship, sacrificing blind and sickly animals rather than the best of the flock.

·       This same group has failed to provide the people with proper education and instruction.

·       Intermarriage, unfaithfulness, and divorce are rampant, which Malachi sees as being a metaphor of the people’s relationship with God as they dabble in the practices associated with foreign gods and cults.

·       The rich are exploiting workers and show no appreciable concern for the most vulnerable people in the society: widows, orphans, and refugees.

·       The people complain the wicked prosper while the righteous suffer and thus say religion is a waste of time, withholding their tithes to the Temple.

Malachi’s assessment is this: God judges their civic morality and personal piety to be lacking. 

What will happen?  According to Malachi, judgement and salvation.  “A day is coming like an oven,” he says, “it will burn up the evil and arrogant.”  This is the judgment part.  Here is the salvation: “The sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.”  The imagery reminds me of the end of those Disney movies when an evil spell is broken, a new day dawns, and what had been a black and white world once again is filled with color.

We in the Christian tradition, through the life and message of Jesus, tweak the pattern of judgment and salvation in the prophetic message.  We critique it as being too focused on “them” (the evil) and “us” (the good).  We talk rather about “Crucifixion” and “Resurrection”, about death and rebirth.  We understand each of us needs to die to self in order to rise in Christ.  We see ourselves in Peter, who denies Jesus, in Thomas, who doubts, and even in Judas, who betrays.  We understand our personal need for the healing rays of the Lord’s day to fall upon us; to make us new, to make us whole. 

In the bible, end of time visions such as Malachi’s express a longing for a time sometime in the future when God’s final judgment will separate the wheat from the chaff, banish sin once and for all, restoring all that is fallen in our broken world.  2,500 hundred years later, we still wait.  But Malachi’s vision also calls for repentance and amendment of life in his own day, his own time, in his own society, and in the hearts of everyone who hears his message. 

We in the Christian tradition share his hope for the future as we anticipate the full and final establishment of the Kingdom of God here on earth.  We also look for signs of its healing rays breaking through the darkness of our own day and in our own hearts.  And we find in this moment, in the meal we are about to receive, the healing rays of Christ’s own Body given for us and Christ’s own blood shed for us.  From them we receive the strength to confront the challenges of our daily lives, the wisdom to know what we ought to do in an ever-confusing world, the courage to speak and act for the good and the right, and a hope which endures through all hardship.

One day, we believe, the Son of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings to reign over all space and time.  In this moment we find the rays of the Son breaking through to touch our hearts and lives empowering us to go forth to love and serve the Lord.  Rejoice and give thanks for the warmth of the Light which God sheds on you this day.  It exposes what is dark.  It banishes all that must go.  It heals.  It renews.  And it is enough.

"That Age"

 

Luke 20:27-38

Proper 27 / Year C

There are any number of religious groups populating the Holy Land during Jesus’ days; including the Pharisees and the Sadducees.  Sadducees are aristocrats who, because they cooperate with the Roman occupiers, hold positions of power.  Pharisees are more blue collar.  Their place is out among the people in the synagogues of towns and villages.  And while there are other things which distinguish one group from the other, this morning we hear of the most significant: Pharisees believe in some form of life after death while Sadducees don’t.

If anyone ever invites you to attend a theological debate, take my advice and find a polite way to decline.  They tend to be deadly dull affairs where long dead writers and unpronounceable German words are tossed around as if they part of everyone’s daily lexicon.  It was not like this in first century Palestine.  Back then, competing groups went after each other with passion and energy, most often debating absurd possibilities, but at least they were something even common folk like you and me could understand. 

The hypothetical question about in heaven who will be the husband of the women who marries successive brothers is typical of the discourse between these two groups; concoct an extreme scenario and then throw it out there for debate.  It is not unlike the Philosophy 101 question “Can God create something so big God cannot move it?”  Such juicy conundrums can create lively discussion.  And while I have no evidence to back up my theory, I doubt the Sadducees in today’s reading are the first to ask this question.  No doubt it has been kicked around for some time.  And, in my estimation, it is not the first time Jesus has heard it, but this perhaps is the first time he is asked to comment on it in public.

In his response, Jesus does two things to reframe the conversation.  First, he draws a contrast between what he calls “this age” and “that age” of the resurrection of the dead.  His message is straightforward: You can spend a lot of time and energy trying to image what the resurrection life is like, but you are locked into and limited by what you presently know and experience.  The life to come is wholly other and it is near futile trying to describe it based on what we know of life in the here and now.  As one commentator puts it, “Jesus asserts the rules we put in place to navigate this world are not important, or even relevant, in the next one, because it is so fundamentally different from what we normally experience.”

We get glimpses of this in the biblical accounts of Jesus’ appearances after his Resurrection.  Sometimes he is recognizable, other times he is not.  He has a physical body which still shows the marks of his wounds from the Crucifixion and can be touched, and yet he materializes in locked rooms and then disappears from them.  He eats and drinks with his friends before he ascends into the sky in bodily form.  Theorize if you must, debate all you want, raise your voice and shake a fist to make your point, but perhaps it is best to say apparently “that age” is very different from “this age” and leave it at that.

The second thing Jesus does to change the conversation is to pivot from what in symbolic logic is known as the specific to the universal.  He moves away from the question of marriage in the resurrection to the real question of the resurrection itself.  For Jesus, God’s revelation to Moses that the Patriarchs live and somehow are present in the present moment is evidence enough.  When today’s text states “for to God all of them are alive” it hits on something critical.  It affirms in the realm where God exists, they live.  What is this reality which I just said is best left undescribed?  

All of creation, including us, exists in time and space.  It has a beginning, has moved into the present movement, and will continue to move until it comes to an end.  God, who has no beginning and no end, exists beyond time and space, and yet can and does, in some form or fashion, enter into time and space; self-revelation, the Incarnation, and the imparting of the Holy Spirit being primary examples.  Because God exists beyond time and space, all of time is present to God; certainly the past and the present and in ways I don’t understand and can’t explain even the future (to some degree). 

Perhaps a limited way to illustrate this is to image taking a picture of yourself from every one of your birthdays and then laying them out in front of you on a table in order.  In a sense, you can look down from above at your whole life laid out before you.  Each moment is present to you manifested through a photograph, but you exist in a reality beyond them.  An exercise like this would bring to the present past memories, some so real and evocative you can be caught up in them again. 

Now, as I said, this example has its limitations because Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (whom Jesus references) are not mere memories, figures God has not forgotten.  They are resurrected from the dead, which is to say they now dwell with God in that place and age beyond time and space.  To go back to the photographs, it is as if every person in those pictures who has died sits with you at the table and now looks down at the snapshots with you. 

As I said, I have no idea of what “that age” will be like.  I am pretty sure it won’t involve floating around on a cloud while playing a harp.  But my hope is this is the life to which one day, through the grace and power of God, I will enter.  Now, hope is not the same thing as a wish.  I define hope as a trust in a future reality which has implications for how you live and order your life today.  Because I had hope a college education would make for a better life, my parents paid tuition while I attended classes, read books, wrote papers, and took tests.  Because I hope my future will be better served by having a retirement account, I refrain from spending a certain amount of my income and invest it so it will accumulate and grow.  Hope is acting in a certain way now consistent with what you believe will be realized in the future.

The Catechism in the prayer book asks, “What is the Christian hope?”  Its answer: The Christian hope is to live with confidence in newness and fullness of life, and to await the coming of Christ in glory, and the completion of God’s purpose for the world.” ^{p. 861}  I invite you to live with confidence in the fulness of life which is ours in part today and in that age will be complete.

Contempt

 

Luke 19:9-14

Proper 25 / Year C

The Pharisee prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people.”  ^{Luke 18:11}

Notice something about this parable Jesus tells.  Luke’s gospel tells us who it is directed at – those who are self-righteous and regard others with contempt.  Allow me to make a few distinctions so we can be clear what Jesus is describing:

·    Pretentiousness is an unwarranted or exaggerated sense of importance or stature.  It is concerned with how you want to appear to others.

·    Arrogance involves elevating oneself while looking down on others.  It is a manifestation of how others appear to you.

·  Disdain is the estimation another person or group is unworthy of your consideration or respect.

·  Scorn is the outward expression of negative thoughts or feelings about another person or group.

Contempt takes all of this to a much deeper level by holding another person or group is inferior and/or unworthy.  It combines a sense of one’s own felt superiority with disgust and disrespect for the other.  While it is held as an inner hostility, it can be manifested as mockery, sarcasm, hostile humor, name-calling, mimicking, and/or body language such as sneering and eye-rolling (which, interestingly, is found in almost all cultures). 

Researchers highlight three primary catalysts giving rise to contempt.

·    Social rejection.  One study found in unrequited love, 25% of those rejected reported harboring contempt toward what or who they once sought.

·    Moral transgression.  Contempt is one way to respond to those who violate a boundary or norm, be it an offense against our personal autonomy, community practices, or religious beliefs and standards.

·    Recurring conflicts.  When a problem or problems go on and on with no resolution, everything about the other person or group may become intolerable.

Contempt holds a kind of finality.  Anger with another person or group often focuses on an action or belief.  You can only be angry with a person or group if you hold out hope for the possibility of change; the other person might apologize, atone, and change behavior.  Contempt is not focused on deeds, but on an individual person or group you have so devalued you cannot even the possibility of their redemption.

Far from being a solitary experience isolated to an individual, contempt clusters like-minded people into “in groups” who rally against “out-groups” they deem to hold inferior qualities, ideas, and/or values.  From the “It” group in middle school to cable news talking heads and their audiences to everything in between, contempt is both a magnet and a glue; drawing together those with similar toxic assessments and binding them as one.

With all of this as background, let’s turn our attention to this morning’s reading.  A month ago we heard Jesus’ parable of Lazarus (a poor beggar) and a rich man.  In that story, the rich man is completely unaware of Lazarus and his need, even though he passes by him every single day.  Today’s parable has the exact opposite relational dynamic.  The person of higher social standing is hyper focused on the person of lower station.

The setting is the Temple; the occasion a time of prayer.  In this sacred place and moment, a contemptuous person gives thanks not for the splendor of the whole creation, not for the wonder of life, and not for the mystery of live.  He does not give thanks for the blessing of family and friends, nor for the loving care which surrounds him on every side.  No, he gives thanks he is not like the worthless person praying next to him.

If God’s call to me in life is to be better than other people, I will feel pretty good if I compare myself to George Cornell, but not so good if I weighed my merits against his wife, St. Phyllis.  But your call and my call is not to compare ourselves to others.  We are called to one purpose – to base our life (or attitudes and our actions) on the life of Christ. 

Paul instructed the church in Ephesus to be imitators of God by walking in love as Christ loved us ^5:1-2.  He invited the church in Corinth to imitate him in that he sought to imitate Christ ^11:1.  Then, in his next letter to them, he wrote about being transformed into the image of Christ ^4:6.  St. John, in his first letter, wrote whoever seeks to abide in Christ will walk in the same way Jesus walked ^2:6.  Our prayer, when we stand in the Temple should be, “When others look at me may they see the reflection of Christ.  Bless me to make it so.  Forgive me when his image in me is blurry.”

Jacob the Trickster

 

Genesis 32:22-33:4

Proper 24 / Year C

One of the more prevalent literary architypes is that of the trickster; a person or figure who uses wits and guile to triumph over those more powerful, often using methods which are morally ambiguous at best.  From Greek mythological figures such as Prometheus (who steals fire from Zeus and gives it to humankind) and Odysseus (who dreams up the scheme of the Trojan Horse) to Bugs Bunny and Bart Simpson, every culture and age has its tricksters.

Perhaps you have never noticed how tricksters and the stories of their exploits are sprinkled throughout the bible, especially in the Book of Genesis.  Its first trickster in it is not a person, but rather a creature – the serpent in the garden.  While it has come to represent for us the personification of evil (Satan), from a strictly literary perspective, the text tells us only that the serpent is “more crafty than any other beast of the field the Lord God has made”. ^3:1  And a reading of the text reveals, while the serpent questions what God has commanded, it never lies.  For her part, Eve, when question by God about eating the apple, deflects responsibility by saying “the serpent deceived me.”  Note how the serpent is guilty of trickery, not treachery.  The text itself offers no insight as to what motivates the creature.  Other biblical authors and commentators will have to draw from the narrative conclusions which are not explicitly revealed in the initial story.

Abraham, the father of the world’s three great monotheist religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), is also a trickster.  Not once but twice he passes off his wife as his sister to a foreign king because he believes he will be in danger if the truth about their relationship is revealed.  His trickery is tricky to understand, but not nearly as puzzling as the result.  When his deception is discovered, each king apologies to Abraham and rewards him with gifts of livestock and other forms of wealth before sending him on his way in peace.

Well, we could do an entire Lenten series studying only the tricksters found in Genesis, but let’s home in on the biblical figure synonymous with trickery – Jacob.  His moral character is foreordained from the beginning of his life when he is born clutching at the heel of Esau, his first-born twin brother.  The name Jacob means “supplanter”; one who tricks or deceives.   Apparently, it is a family trait.  When the time comes for Isaac, his father, to pronounce his blessing on his chosen elder son, Rebekah (the boys’ mother) helps Jacob trick the old, nearly blind man by passing off the younger son as his brother.  Even though given under false pretense, the blessing, once given, cannot be taken back. 

When Esau learns of it, he is filled with a murderous rage.  Jacob flees for his life, eventually landing in the Land of Naran, his grandfather Abraham’s home of origin.  Here he falls in love with Rachel, the daughter of Laban.  The father agrees to allow Jacob to marry her, but first he must work seven years in servitude to earn her.  When the time is up, trickery ensues.  Laban forces Jacob first to marry Leah, his older daughter and then work another seven years for Rachel.  Both men engage in more trickery before Jacob can marry his true love and then depart for his homeland with his bludgeoning family and possessions.

Returning to Canaan, however, means a reckoning with his brother.  When word comes Esau is approaching with a vast cohort of war-ready associates, Jacob uses every trick up his sleeve to placate his brother, sending wave after wave of lavish gifts ahead of him before their meeting.  He takes his family and retreats across the Jordon River to learn from a safe distance if his ploy works. 

On the night before Jacob will face the music, he is alone.  The text tells us he is assailed by someone (or something) with whom he wrestles until sunrise.  At first, we are told he contends with a man (could it be Esau?), but at the end of the conflict his adversary is revealed to be an angel.  For his part, Jacob says he has seen God face to face and prevailed.  He refuses to relent until his opponent blesses him and the struggle ends only after he receives it. 

Still, it comes at a cost.  Jacob’s hip is dislocated.  As a new day dawns, he limps forward, changed by the encounter.  After a life of trickery and being tricked he is ready to face the consequences of all he has done while being willing to let go of all that has been done to him.  For me, it is the most poignant and powerful human moment in the entire Old Testament.  It is reminiscent of what Paul wrote to the church in Corinth: “When I grew up, I put away childish things.” ^13:11  Come what may, when he meets up with his brother, Jacob will take the whatever happens as an adult, accepting the consequences of his actions with maturity and moral resignation.

What follows is perhaps the most grace-filled moment in the Old Testament.  Of all the possible outcomes, we do not expect the two brothers to embrace and cry in one another’s arms.  Esau too has changed.  His murderous rage has given way to unconditional love.  He has learned to forgive.  It is the kind of happy ending Hollywood loves.

I spent some time this week researching the motif of tricksters in the bible.  Scholars, it seems to me, grope for an explanation as to why God choses such questionable characters to be the patriarchs and matriarchs of a holy people and nation.  I didn’t come across a satisfying answer.  Perhaps none exists. 

But I did find something which helps me to understand Jacob better.  Some tricksters trick others simply for amusement while others do it to survive in a dangerous world.  Jacob’s actions fall into the latter.  But after the encounter wrestling with God, he abandons trickery and trusts come what may the Holy One will be with him.  Yes, the world is dangerous, but Jacob comes to realize he is not alone.  Yes, the world is complicated, but God is with him, even though he must contend with God to make sense of all that he has done and all that has been done to him.  He holds on to God and does not let go.  In the end, even as he must deal with the mess he has made out of his life, he comes to realize he is truly blessed.  This is what we call faith.   

Saying Grace

 

Luke 17:11-19

Proper 23 / Year C

Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean?  But the other nine, where are they?  Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” ^{Luke 17:17-18}

Surely all ten lepers are elated when they recognize they have been healed.  Two things distinguish the one from the other nine.  First, he is a foreigner.  Perhaps the others, being local, rush home to reunite with loved ones while, because his family and friends are far away, his impulse to go back to Jesus does not have to compete with other options at hand.  And second, he takes the intentional step of returning to Jesus to express gratitude; not that the others aren’t grateful, they simply don’t convey it directly to Jesus.

I suppose most of us regularly give thanks to God in one of several distinct ways:

·       You come to church to be a part of the Great Thanksgiving.

·       You say prayers when you go to bed at night, giving thanks for the blessings of the day which is past.

·       If you are a morning person (and not a grouch like me), you offer thanksgiving for the beginning of a new day.

·       When you sit down to enjoy a meal; especially when you are at a dining table with family or friends.

This morning I want to focus on this last one.

A recent survey found almost 50% of us say a grace before a meal, a statistic which is higher than I imagined.  I’m not sure how it squares with the finding nearly 70% of all meals are eaten outside the home.  Another survey revealed 2/3^rds of parents indicate it is difficult to have family dinners because members are on different schedules and tend to eat at different times. 

When we do manage to sit at table with others, the focus of the grace we say has changed, even if the words “God is great, God is good.  Let us thank Him for our food” have not.  Up until modern times, when a family gathered at a dinner table the food they ate largely came from their own labor.  If a pestilence struck the crops, if a coyote got into the chicken house, if the rains never came, or if any one of a whole host of other calamities occurred, the family went hungry, perhaps all winter long.  It was natural to be thankful for food on the table because food on the table was not a given.

And while 17% of homes in our country live with food insecurity, most of us don’t have to worry if we will be able to eat dinner tonight.  In fact, most of us or more preoccupied with eating less than with having something at all to eat.  When food on the table (or the counter or the couch or the backseat of the car) is the daily norm, being grateful can be a challenge. 

And yet there still is something miraculous about it.  Over 10% of the American workforce is employed in the agricultural and food sectors.  Think about all the people whose labor allows farmers to farm and ranchers to ranch:

·       The people on the assembly line at John Deere, for example, who make the machinery used on farms. 

·       The hard-working folks who pick or process what is produced.

·       All those who package, transport, and put items on the shelves of our local groceries. 

·       Behind it all are the office personnel who manage the business end of the industry. 

The interconnectedness of our world truly is amazing.  Our well-being is intricately tied to the work of others.  We are every bit as dependent on them as our ancestors were on seasonal rain.  Perhaps an appropriate table grace today might be this:

God is great.  God is good.

  So too the labors of our food.

Through their work, we are fed.

  Without them we’d not have bread.

As we dine we keep in mind,

  the community of which this is a sign.

For all You do and for their part,

  we give thanks with all our heart.

May we add to this world what we can

strengthened by the food at hand.

God created us in such a way that we react to the events of life with deep emotion.  Every day we experience things which give rise to a wide array of responses – such as fear, anger, frustration, grief, regret, apprehension.  And while we cannot control how we naturally react to all that happens in a given day, we have complete command over how we respond.  The wisdom of the Prayer of St. Francis is rooted in this truth (“where there is hatred, we can sow love”).

Gratitude is a choice.  And when we choose to be grateful, we tap into God’s power to transform how we experience life.  Appreciating all those who have a hand in providing the food we eat can help us to recognize how the totality of our lives is made so much better through the labor of others.  A rare few opt to live “off the grid” – isolated and completely dependent on self alone.  The rest of us live in a village and thus rely on others as we do what we can to contribute to the common good.

Gratitude is also a spiritual discipline; an exercise you undertake to fashion your soul.  Like all spiritual disciplines, the more you do it, the more you become it, and it becomes you.  A good place to start is saying grace at the beginning of meal.  Use it as an act of mindfulness which will shape you to become grateful for all the blessings of this life.

 

Duty or Delight

 

Luke 17:5-10

Proper 22 / Year C

In today’s reading from Luke we hear Jesus’ closest followers make an understandable request: “Increase our faith.”  It follows right after he teaches them about the need to forgive, even if a person sins against you seven times in a single day!  That is not an easy pill to swallow, so it’s no wonder they ask for help, for faith.  His response is puzzling: “When you come home after working all day in the field and your master tells you to make dinner, do your job and don’t expect any extra credit for doing it.”  Jesus, at times, says things which are difficult to grasp.  This is right up there with the toughest of them.

Somehow the key to understanding what he says here is hidden in the connection between faith and duty; a relationship which is not at all obvious.

Duty is an interesting word.  Its roots in French are tied to the word debt... to owe.  Duty as debt conjures up negative associations with words like chore, task, obligation, and burden… think of Jury Duty.  It is something you must do, but would rather not.  Who wants to work hard all day only to be told to do more work once you return home?

But duty also can refer to a higher, moral or ethical imperative.  Our country’s founders wrote often about our duty to stand up to tyranny.  A firefighter who saves a child from a burning building will tell you she was only doing her duty.   On second Tuesdays in November, we exercise our duty as citizens by going to the polls.  Connecting faith with duty in this second sense seems to make sense. 

We have some examples of merging duty related to job with duty related to higher calling.  Titles such as “Duty Nurse” and “Duty Officer” highlight how an assigned task can contain an inherent nobility.  What would it look like if you began to understand your duties – everything from your job to your household chores to your parenting/grandparenting tasks to your volunteer work – as something rooted in dignity rather than drudgery? 

Maxim Gorky, the 19^th Century Soviet author, made this observation: “When work is a pleasure, life is joy.  When work is a duty, life is slavery.”  Is it possible to transform one’s thinking about work from duty (in the lower sense of the word) to pleasure?  And if we can do this, can it help us to understand better why Jesus links faith to duty?

David Livingstone, the 19^th Century missionary and pioneer, said this in an 1857 speech to the students at Cambridge University: 

I have never ceased to rejoice that God has appointed me to such an office.  People talk of the sacrifices I have made… Is it a sacrifice which brings its own reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny hereafter?  It is, emphatically, no sacrifice.  I say rather, it is a privilege… I never made a sacrifice.  It was not mere duty.  I was a profound delight – beyond anything the world can give.

“It was not mere duty.  It was profound delight.”  Imagine what it would feel like to experience your duties as delight?

Delight itself is such a wonderful word; one which is terribly underused in our day-to-day communications.  The dictionary defines delight as “a high degree of gratification, pleasure, satisfaction, or joy”.  Allow your thoughts to drift as you listen to these different usages:

·    The children squealed with delight.

·    The performance was a delight.

·    I read your letter with great delight.

·    To my delight, I was proved wrong.

·    It is my delight to serve you this meal.

·    It was a delight to see him so happy and relaxed.

Isn’t delight a wonderful word!  Is there anyone here this morning who wouldn’t like to experience more delight in your life?  If you take away only one thing from this sermon, join me in a personal challenge:  use the word delight in conversation or correspondence at least one time this week, or go for the gold and aim to do it once every day.

Mike Rowe, the well-known television host of Dirty Jobs and Somebody’s Got to Do It (which highlighted “unique individuals” engaged in a passionate undertaking, be it work, a hobby, or personal quest), makes this observation: “Happiness does not come from a job.  It comes from knowing what you truly value, and [then] behaving in a way that’s consistent with your beliefs.” 

He echoes what I think Jesus says to us in today’s teaching: When what you do aligns with what you value, with what you care about most, then your faith will grow because you will understand that you as a unique creation of God are doing the unique things God has created you to do.

Teddy Roosevelt once said, “Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.”  When you understand this, you will discover how your mundane tasks, in reality, are meaningful contributions.  When you make this shift you will gain deep satisfaction from all you do.  And when you believe you are participating in something bigger than yourself, you will sense your faith is growing.

 

This Sermon Contains an Urgent Message!

 

Luke 16: 19-31

Proper 21 / Year C

This morning we hear again Jesus’ parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, which, even though only found in Luke’s gospel, is familiar to all of us.  Its stark imagery and stunning reversal puts on notice those indifferent to human need and callus to other’s suffering.  Heck, let’s be honest, it’s a warning to each one of us, isn’t it.  It conjures the times I drive past a person holding a cardboard sign asking for food.  It doesn’t matter investigators have found a grifting enterprise behind some of them and it doesn’t matter if you help one person because there will be another just around the corner; and try telling that person you already did your part.

Typically, Jesus tells these stories to make a singular point and often our fascination with the details obscures its meaning.  In this parable, for example, many have gone down the rabbit’s hole to formulate a doctrine of the afterlife; asking what it teaches about salvation, judgment, purgatory, and more.  While these are elements of the story, they are more like what a set is to a play; merely providing a backdrop for the action.

So, if a parable is not about the setting, how do we know what its message for us is to be?  Well, often it is helpful to ponder the characters in the story and wonder which one Jesus wants us to see ourselves in.  With Lazarus and the Rich Man, we don’t identify with being the poor beggar.  We know we are not Abraham, the minister of God’s comfort in the afterlife.  So this leaves the Rich Man; and in this story, well, the shoe (uncomfortable as it may be) fits.  The parable makes us feel guilty for having in a world with have nots; for holding on to what we have when Jesus says we should hand over to those whose hands are stretched out.  So there it is.  Meaning taught.  Case closed.  Time for the Creed.

Or is it?  Might there be another character in the parable we are overlooking?  In this case, there is… or, more aptly, there are; and they are easy to overlook: The Rich Man’s five siblings. 

At its core, the parable is bathed with a sense of urgency.  It calls for the listeners to act and to act before it’s too late.  For Lazarus, the moment has passed.  But it is not so for his brothers.  They still have an opportunity to respond.  They still can change their ways.  They still have time.  And so do we.  But what will it take to get their attention?  What will it take to get ours?

Clearly, the parable teaches about our need to demonstrate real compassion and concern for those in desperate need.  It calls for us to affirm the humanity of every person, beginning with those living in the most inhumane of conditions.  And for some of us – perhaps for most of us – this is the most urgent thing we need to acknowledge.  But it may not be the only thing.  There may be something else; something more. 

If you leave here this morning with one question, I hope it is this: What is something I am overlooking which requires my urgent attention?  Jesus’ parable means to wake us from a slumber to face something critical in our lives.

In 1996, Mitch Albom, then a Detroit-based sportswriter, was surprised to see Morrie Schwartz, his old Brandeis University college professor, being interviewed on Ted Koppel’s Nightline show.  Coming to grips with his own mortality after being diagnosed with ALS, Schwartz began to teach a course on what he was learning about life as he was dying.  It became wildly popular on the campus and news about it spread. 

The professor made a tremendous impact on Albom as a student and Mitch vowed to keep in touch with his mentor after graduation, but time and work and life itself have a way of getting in the way of such commitments.  Gripped by a renewed sense of urgency, Albom reached out to Schwartz and when the two got together a wonderful conversation ensued.  One thing led to another and over the course of fourteen Tuesdays, Albom recorded their chats, which then became the source material for his book Tuesdays with Morrie.   First published in 1997, it is the bestselling memoir of all time. 

I know many of you have read it.  Perhaps you remember this from the book:

After the funeral, my life changed.  I felt as if time was suddenly precious, water going down an open drain, and I could not move quickly enough.  No more playing music at half-empty clubs.  No more writing songs in my apartment, songs that no one would hear…

So many people walk around with a meaningless life.  They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important.  This is because they’re chasing the wrong things.  The way you get meaning in your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.

For most of us, most of our time and attention is dominated by things which demand and manipulate our day-to-day attention.  Seldom do we ponder the bigger questions about the direction our life is headed or the priorities we have embraced or the person we are becoming or the Source of our being and the implications which follow from it.  These are important things, but we don’t sense they are urgent.  They nag at us, but we are adept at pushing them out of the way, just like the Rich Man managed day after day after day to avoid Lazarus. 

But Jesus says you are not the Rich Man.  You are his siblings.  How much like them are you?  In what important ways are you complacent?  In what areas of life do you need a sense of urgency now in order to reorder your life so you can live in accordance with God’s dream for you?