The 23rd Sunday after Pentecost - Confessing Pride?

Today we consider Luke's account of Jesus' telling of the Pharisee and the tax collector. There are three themes on which we need to reflect:  holiness vs. sinfulness, pride vs. humility, and, lastly, dependence on God.

In this parable Jesus sets up to contrasting characters that come from different groups in first century Palestine.  They may well be modeled on real people, but they are prototypes.  The Pharisee is a model of the responsible follower of the Law who doesn't cheat or harm anyone.  He gives to God the amount of money expected. He shows great spiritual discipline by fasting twice each week.  What is there not to admire and respect?  The tax collector is part of a system set up by the Romans that emphasizes the oppressive nature of their rule.  The tax collector pays the civil authorities the amount they specify, but then he can charge the person taxed as much as he can extort.  The difference between these sums was his profit--and tax collectors tended to be wealthy and despised.

Because we are aware of Luke's point of view in his gospel, we know that Jesus will turn the relative status of these two men upside down.  Luke prefaces this parable with this comment: "[Jesus] also told this parable to some trusted in themselves that they were righteous and treated others with contempt."

We shouldn't be surprised by Luke's use of this parable. Remember that Luke's gospel recounts Mary's song upon encountering Elizabeth's welcome of blessing: "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb."  Mary's response, as reported by Luke, contains these words: "[God] has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly."  Mary, of course, was reflecting on how someone without any standing in her society has been blessed by God.

So holiness mixed with pride does little to find favor with God in Luke's view.  It smacks of idolatry when our pride leaves us blind to our faults and super aware of the faults of others.  Our following the rules and practices of holiness are leading not to righteousness, but to self-righteousness.  These rules and practices are religious in this example, but they could be related to any aspect of human society.  Anytime we look at ourselves as deserving of some privilege or reward because of our own accomplishment, Luke--and Jesus--would tell us to watch out.  For if the next step is automatically look at ourselves as superior in character or effort to others less fortunate, we run the risk of making an idol of ourselves.  And in doing that, we negate what blessings we have been given by God and what help we have been given by others to achieve what we have.

Indeed, the penitence of the tax collector and his asking for God's mercy was considered exemplary by Jesus and deserving of God's receiving him (justification).  This wasn't because the tax collector would now turn his life around and only be good from then on.  Rather it was because the tax collector acknowledged his dependence on a power outside himself to help him avoid self-righteousness: God's never failing grace to all of us who recognize we--by what we have done and by what we have left undone--have separated ourselves from God's love and want to turn back to God.

If we are honest with ourselves--and with God--we are, at times, full of self-righteous pride like the Pharisee; yet at other moments we turn to God fully aware of our shortcomings.  Because we rarely use Morning Prayer for our public worship on Sunday anymore, we don’t have much experience with the prayer called "The General Thanksgiving."  It very neatly sums up the sort the approach to God and to the way we should live that this parable from Luke commends.

Let us pray "The General Thanksgiving" together:

Almighty God, Father of all mercies, 
we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks 
for all your goodness and loving-kindness 
to us and to all whom you have made. 
We bless you for our creation, preservation, 
and all the blessings of this life; 
but above all for your immeasurable love 
in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; 
for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory. 
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies, 
that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise, 
not only with our lips, but in our lives, 
by giving up our selves to your service, 
and by walking before you 
in holiness and righteousness all our days; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord, 
to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, 
be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.

The 22nd Sunday after Pentecost - To Persevere - When is it a Virtue?

I'm taking my very first on-line course ever from Lutheran Seminary in Philadelphia.  The course title is "Who Am I to Go to Pharaoh? Biblical Insights on Faithful Leadership."  Since it's only for continuing ed credit, there are no tests or papers.  However, it takes about 2 hours each week for 5 weeks--one hour for the lecture and another for reading and answering discussion questions in a forum.  The first week I was quite excited and looked forward to figuring out how it all worked.  When I discovered the professor would be interesting, I knew I had made a good choice, even though I went into quite blindly.  

However, the second week--this past week--I almost forgot to schedule the time to watch the video.  My commitment to persevere and complete the course expectations was clearly faltering.  I hurriedly carved out the time late Thursday evening and was rewarded by another great lecture.  I even discovered something I seemed to have missed in previous Bible study.  In Exodus 24 the writer recounts a covenant ritual of, first, sacrificing to God on the altar Moses had built at the base of Mt. Sinai and, then, of Moses reading the law to the people.  After this ritual some 70 plus men went with part-way up the mountain where they met God and they "ate and drank."  Worship followed by a parish picnic?  There is nothing new under the sun--but I digress.

The reason I told this story was to focus on a word from the Collect of the Day and my lack of that quality this week.  The word is "persevere."  In the collect it describes what the church all over the world needs to do: "persevere with steadfast faith in the confession of [God's] name."  Our faith and our displaying that faith in our lives and with our words shouldn't be just off-and-on--only when it's convenient.

We encounter perseverance in the story of Jacob at the fork of the Jabbock stream. Jacob perseveres in a very physical encounter with an unnamed "man."  He continued to struggle and refused to let go of the person whom Jacob understood to be God.  Jacob is blessed for his perseverance, but God's name remained hidden.  Jacob may persevere, but there is a limit to God's forbearance.  

Keeping on--persevering--appears in the epistle reading as well.  We heard a passage from the second pastoral letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul's faithful companion. Paul sent him to the Christian community in Ephesus to deal with false teaching. Timothy is expected lead that community, so they will be faithful to the gospel as Paul taught them first.  How should Timothy manage this sothat all who belong to God will by "equipped for every good work?"  These are the key words:  "I solemnly urge you: proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable. . ."  Be persistent, in other words, persevere in what you are called by God to do.

And if these two examples weren't enough to convince us that persistence should be esteemed, we have the final example of the parable of the persistent widow--usually called the parable of the unjust judge, but we won't be focusing on him today.  Jesus tells the disciples that the parable shows them that they should "pray always and not lose heart."  The widow persevered in begging for justice in a court case.  Eventually she received justice, despite the odds being stacked against her.  Jesus' point was that when we pray the odds aren't stacked against us, so this should make it even easier for us to persist in calling to God in prayer.

So here we have three examples--each slightly different--of perseverance or persistence as a virtue.  When we think about this virtue, a concern comes to mind. In real life, though, perseverance may well drift into a negative stubbornness or a fixation on something lacking in real importance or even something hurtful.  The test of whether one's perseverance can be called a virtue or a fault lies in the context in which one expresses it.  Are others in the community helped or hurt by our perseverance?  Does it draw us--and those in our community--closer to each other and to God?  Is it expressed in a way that leads to the greater good?

A wonderful expression of the positive aspect of perseverance can be found in one of the promises of our Baptismal Covenant and in a prayer near the end of our baptismal rite.  In the Covenant we promise to persevere in resisting evil and when we sin, we will repent and return to the Lord.  We are promising to resist what prevents us from staying connected with God.  Then knowing that we cannot always behave in ways that please God, we promise to turn back toward God, saying that we will try once more to love God and our neighbor.

The other important time the word “persevere” appears comes just after the water is poured over the candidate's head.  The priest prays these words: "Sustain her, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit.  Give her an inquiring and discerning heart; the courage to will and to persevere; a spirit to know and to love you; and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works."   In the second phrase of this prayer we are asking God to bless the candidate's steadfastness in making courageous choices and not giving up when life becomes difficult.

As we think about how we persevere or fail to persevere in the daily choices we make, let us pray for God's guidance to discern whether our choices will help others, will draw us closer to God, and, in the end, will promote the greater good.  If we put on blinders to the context of our choices and end up making self-centered choices, or if we give up when life becomes difficult, our lives will not show a steadfast faith.  But if we allow ourselves to be open to where God seems to be leading us--as Jacob did, as Paul urged, and as the widow who sought justice did, persevering in the path we have chosen will be a virtue and will show a steadfast faith!

The 21st Sunday after Pentecost - Moments of Mercy and Thank-yous

Kyrie eleison; Christe eleison; Kyrie eleison.

Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

As you know, our prayer book offers two patterns to begin regular Sunday Eucharistic worship: Rite One and Rite Two.  The major difference between the two beginnings is what "may be" said or sung and what "is" required to be said or sung.  In Rite One asking for mercy receives greater emphasis than giving glory to God.  Only "when appointed," does the Gloria take precedence over the Kyrie.  In Rite Two the Gloria receives the precedence, coming first in the order of choices for opening worship.  Asking for God's mercy is allotted to "other occasions."  At St. Nicholas' we use the Kyrie instead of the Gloria or other hymn of praise only in Lent.

The relative emphasis between asking for mercy--Luke puts the word eleison in the mouth of the ten people with skin disorders--and giving glory and thanks to God comes through clearly in this passage. The one who turned back to thank Jesus and give glory to God receives Jesus' commendation: "Your faith has made you well."  

Asking for mercy is fine--and clearly appropriate--for those outcasts who were condemned to live in separation from society and those whom they loved.  Can you imagine how it must have felt to never be allowed to come near other people except those with the same very visible skin disorders that you have?  When we despair over some pain in our lives that we feel we must keep hidden in order to avoid being rejected by our friends, our family or our co-workers, we have a sense of how the people with leprosy felt.

The prayer, Lord have mercy, may find itself on our lips frequently. I often quote the writer Anne Lamott who says much prayer can be reduced to these words: Help, help, help!  Step 1 in the 12 Steps that guide Alcoholics Anonymous is: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol— that our lives had become unmanageable.”  Step 2 says: “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”  These two steps are indeed saying "Help!" and "Have mercy!"  How the AA member defines his or her Higher Power can be specific to that person, but asking for help in controlling the addiction is essential.  

Other situations may lead us to ask for mercy.  We may have lost our job.  We may have found out a friend or loved is gravely ill.  We may have received a diagnosis that scares us.  We may be angry at some unfairness that has blocked us.  So much in life can lead us to ask for help, for mercy, and also rail against the unfairness of fate--and even of God--for allowing such things to happen to us.

Having to ask for mercy means that we admit that we cannot take care of a situation or even of ourselves without help.  That rankles!  And even if we do ask, are we ready to recognize when mercy and compassion come our way?

Although all the leprosy or skin diseases afflicting those ten folks vanished, we have no idea how the nine who did not return to give thanks to Jesus handled things.  Were their lives all sorted out from that moment on?  Probably not.  I think the story seeks to make this point: only one of the people who no longer suffered from leprosy experienced complete healing.  And that person was not even well-regarded by most of those who surrounded Jesus that day.  Luke names him a Samaritan, and Jesus calls him "this foreigner."  Not "our kind of people," one might say!  But that foreigner discerned what he must do to find the wholeness he needed to get his life back on track: give thanks and glory to God--"Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back praising God with a loud voice.  He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him."

Although we may not focus on this aspect of the Gloria when we sing it, here are the words of its second stanza:  "Lord God, heavenly King,/ almighty God and Father,/ we worship you, we give you thanks,/ we praise you for your glory."  Our liturgy causes us to give thanks and glory to God, no matter how our week has been or how our lives are right now.

Is this a meaningless exercise, ancient words said for centuries, now sung to a rather nice tune, but repeated by rote with no thought of the context of our lives?  If that were so, we should just stop singing the Gloria.  Rather I believe, it calls us to be attentive to where we may in some way or other experienced the mercy and compassion of God.  It also calls us to be attentive where we have had the chance to reach out with mercy and compassion in God's name.

Despite what things may be weighing on our hearts and troubling our minds, where can we see a moment of mercy in our lives?  Have we created that moment of mercy for someone else?  And above all, are we willing to say, "Thanks!?"

Such a moment occurred this week, right here at St. Nicholas'.  A couple came to the door for some assistance--I am always a bit suspicious of a person's honesty under those circumstances--but as we talked, I could see she was shivering.  They said they had come here from Alabama for work.  They had slept in their vehicle last night, because the site where he had been working was vacated; and he had not been paid.  I asked if they were hungry.  Their response was, "Yes," said with an eagerness I have heard from children who hadn't eaten breakfast.  We had some left-over frozen ziti.  So I fixed them cups of tea and heated the ziti in the microwave.  When I came back from doing a couple things in the office, I found the woman washing up the dishes they had used.  She said it was the least she could do, given the meal they had just eaten.  I sent them on their way back to Alabama with a gas card from my discretionary fund and some of the food left over from our last packing of Go-bags for the Empowerment Center--crackers, juice, and a "protein source."   They had said their thank-you, but she demonstrated it by washing the dishes.  I am thankful to God for being part of St. Nicholas'; because of my work here I was able to experience this moment of mercy!

The 20th Sunday after Pentecost - Having Faith and Doing One's Duty

How do you think of God?  The writer of today's collect sees God as ready to hear and to give, to be abundantly merciful and to be forgiving. The writer identifies Jesus as someone who intercedes for us.  The theology behind this collect shows God as both the source of blessing and the means by which we are blessed.

          On the other hand, the writer of the collect describes humanity as unaware of what we should desire, undeserving of God's gifts, having a fearful conscience, and unworthy of God's good generosity.  Is that how we think of ourselves?  Probably not, although we may see others in our society and our world as unworthy because of their lifestyles or the choices they have made.

About 700 years before Jesus came, Habakkuk, a Judean prophet, lamented God's lack of action in the face of much wicked behavior by unrighteous people: "O Lord, how long shall I cry for help and you will not listen? Or cry to you 'Violence!' and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble?"  He reports God's answer as calling for patience for now.  God tells him of a vision that he must "write" large enough, so even runners can read it. And the vision is of a time "appointed" by God when God will deal with the unrighteous.  Until then righteous people will "live by their faith."  

For Habakkuk the unrighteous are people who have chosen to abandon the way God has taught the in the Torah or the books of the Law.  He sees justice as not prevailing.  As we have heard in previous weeks, for the Jewish prophets, justice means carrying for the poor and those in need--not trampling on them by corrupt business practices or ignoring them as the rich man did Lazarus.

This week a recipient of one of our bags of food from our food pantry left a phone message.  She had lost her job and had run out of resources, but she was able to eat due to the food we provided to the Hudson State Service Center. She thanked us for our generosity that helped her in a very difficult time, before her new job started.

However, we as a society have a tough time understanding how widespread "food insecurity" really is.  Just recently I read some statistics about the Meals-on-Wheels program's declining ability in many locations to assist the elderly poor with food.  In wealthier areas private donations have made the difference between decreasing government funds for this entitlement program, but in poorer areas long waiting lists now exist.  The need for this program often outstrips its resources.

Recently some other clergy and I toured the food prep area and the Meals-On-Wheels program area of the Newark Senior Center. Impressed by its size and efficient organization, I had no idea that I should ask about its funding and whether or not it had a waiting list. I will be making that call.

The Newark Area Welfare Committee, to which we give a yearly grant and which some of our parishioners support with their time and talent, also fights food insecurity here in our community.  The Welfare Committee operates a food pantry too, and it has given our food pantry cans of food when it lacks room to store them.

So where does our faith come into all this activity to care for those who are hungry?  In today's Gospel reading from Luke we hear the disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith.  The scriptural context in which they make this request is Jesus’ teaching about forgiving those who sin against you.  If people say they are sorry and will change, but you hold a grudge against them, you will be displeasing God.

Evidently the disciples expect to have trouble living this way and ask for greater faith.  Jesus responds by telling a parable about a rather hapless slave working all day in the fields and then having to serve at table in the evening.  I think point Jesus wanted them to see is this:  You may think you have done a very fine job of serving (or an excellent job at practicing forgiveness), but God (as the master) expects nothing less.  A new translation of verse ten in the Common English Bible says it very clearly, without the sense of worthlessness regarding the servant or slave: "In the same way, when you have done everything required of you, you should say, 'We servants deserve no special praise, we have only done our duty.'"  Yes, our faith leads us to serve.  And, yes, it is simply our duty to do so!

As part of this faith community of St. Nicholas, all of us are encouraged to find ways to serve both in our church community and in the larger community of Newark, our country and even the world.  Service comes on many forms.  We often call them "time, talent and treasure."  All three are essential to do the work of service God offers to us.  And in addition to the three T's of service we should include one more, intercessory prayer.

Using these four ways to serve--our time, our talent, our treasure and our intercessory prayers--we can do exactly what God would do in the situations where we are now.  For remember, as our collect tells us, God is ready to hear and to give, to be abundantly merciful and to be forgiving.  We trust in Jesus as intercessor, someone who mediates between God’s judgment and us.  Yes, as we have faith that God is both the source of blessing and the means by which we are blessed, so we can serve others as both the source and means by which they experience God's blessing.  And we will have done our duty! 

The 16th Sunday after Pentecost - How could I "hate" my family? What did Jesus mean?

[You must read to the end to see how the questions in the title are answered.]

"Choose life," Moses urged the people of Israel in his farewell address to them. He understood his work as their leader and a prophet was ending.  He knew that God had said he would see, but not enter the promised land.  The people were about to enter the fertile land across the Jordan and they would be tempted to worship the Canaanite fertility gods.  "Choosing life" meant holding fast to the worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the one God, who had led them from Egypt and slavery through the desert for this moment.

Thousands of years have elapsed since this event took place.  Then there were many years between the event and its written form, recorded by the Deuteronomist historian--most likely when the Hebrew people were facing the issue of how to maintain their faith in God--perhaps even whether to maintain their faith--while captives in Babylon.  What did choosing life mean to them than? The beginning of Psalm 137 addresses their dilemma: "By the rivers of Babylon--there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion./ On the willows there we hung up our harps./ For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, 'Sing us one of the songs of Zion!'/ How could we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?"  "Choosing life" meant being faithful and worshipping God even when there was no temple, even when you had been taken from the land that represented God's covenant with your people.

Do we have the sort of choice Moses presented to the people or the psalmist portrayed?  If we think in terms of a truth that transcends historical circumstances, perhaps we do.  Moses spoke from a position of perceived power.  He believed that Joshua who was to succeed him would win the battle for the land God had promised, because God would be with him.  The psalmist spoke from a position of weakness, a captive in a foreign land.  But for both "choosing life" meant being faithful to God and God's leading--no matter what the circumstances may be.

How one "chooses life" in a particular historical--or even personal--circumstance may not always be clear or easy to discern.  Onesimus seems to have violated the law, because he appears to have fled from Philemon.  Paul was never able to rise above his historical circumstances and condemn slavery as evil, but he appears in his letter to Philemon to offer the choice of life more abundant to both Onesimus and Philemon.  To "choose life" Philemon and Onesimus must reconcile, and Philemon must free Onesimus.  It is probable that neither of them would have seen this path for "choosing life" without Paul's intervention.  For Onesimus there was danger in returning and being forced to work as a slave again. For Philemon there might be ridicule from his peers for not demanding that Onesimus be punished.  Paul not only employs clever rhetoric, but he also shows respect for both men.  In doing this he is helping them "choose life.”

While the examples from Moses' teaching and Paul's epistle are positive ones, in the gospel lesson from Luke Jesus insists that becoming his disciple—that is, choosing the life Jesus is living and the life he is teaching about—becoming his disciple will have dire consequences, and one must "estimate the cost" of being a disciple.  No cost can be higher than giving up all one possesses, including good relationships with one's family.  Even giving up one's own life could be required.  Does Jesus really mean what he says?

St. Francis of Assisi provides the most famous example of taking this text literally.  He took off his fine clothes and walked away from his place in society and his father' business to live among the poor and serve them.  He "chose life" in a way most of us could not imagine doing.

For most of us the challenge to "choose life" does not involve walking away from the safety of our homes and families.  We "choose life" when we recognize the blessings God has given us in the midst of all the difficulties we may face.  We "choose life" when we use those blessings to give glory to God and to aid those in need.  As for those who don't have the safety of a roof over their heads, enough to eat, or a loving family, Jesus calls us not to condemn, but to aid them through our generosity.  By wisely--and sometimes even extravagantly--sharing what we have, we choose life, both for ourselves and for the people we assist.

There no social or political issue I can think of where we should not ask this question of ourselves: How can I choose life in this situation?  And, then, what will be life-giving for the others involved? And, finally, what decisions should flow from my answers to the first two questions?  I sometimes wonder why we as a society have such trouble speaking respectfully to each other when we address the difficult questions that we face in dealing with social or political issues.  What will be the real cost in our lives, in our church, in our community, and in our world—the cost which Jesus says we must estimate (or "count" in an older translation)—when we fail to "choose life?"

The 14th Sunday after Pentecost - Being Transformed: Healing and Baptism

Have you ever wanted to be set free from what ails you?  All of us suffer--sometimes acutely, sometimes chronically, sometimes both.  When we suffer, we seek to have our suffering ended.  We seek a cure for our ailment.  In modern times we do not view suffering as a punishment for our sinfulness.  But we seek the cause of our ailments in hopes of discovering a cure to end our suffering.

If we cannot solve the puzzle of what is causing our suffering, we hope for a miracle.  And here's where it gets tricky for modern people, often we view certain folks as deserving a miracle.  An unexplained cure should come to those who have lived righteously or to those who have a strong faith or to those who have been prayed for by many people.  But miracles, unexplained by definition, are more often than not shrouded in mystery.  People who receive them appear no more worthy than someone who does not receive them--sometimes less worthy, even.

         The idea of mystery as pervading both our spiritual and physical lives can be seen in our scriptures for today.  "You have not come to something that can be touched . . ." begins the passage from the Letter to the Hebrews.  The holy mystery we believe surrounds our sacramental actions, such a being baptized or receive holy communion, have both outward signs which we can see--water, bread and wine--but also an inward and spiritual grace--an action God takes to draw us into the life God intends for us.

The woman in the story we heard from Luke's gospel today was weak and bent over.  Jesus' words that declared her "set free" and his laying hands on her are outward signs of an inward transformation that allowed this daughter of Abraham to lead the healed life God intended for her.  Yes, for her the miracle of no longer suffering--Luke calls it being "cured"--meant a freedom she had not felt in eighteen years.  All that time her ailment made her unclean and allowed her community to consider her a sinner bound by evil she or an ancestor had committed.  After Jesus touched her, the community that witnessed this rejoiced, according to Luke.

Rejoicing in the miracle also means celebrating the mystery of how God draws us to God's self.  Today we are rejoicing in the miracle of M--'s birth and his family's love for him.  More than that we are rejoicing in and we are naming God's action in M--'s life and in L--'s and R--'s lives--and in the lives of M--'s family and friends who have gathered here today. Our prayer book in the prayer of "Thanksgiving over the Water"--which you will hear in a few minutes--declares how God acts in this moment: "In it (the water) we are buried with Christ in his death.  By it we share in his resurrection.  Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit." 

The mystery of new birth in Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit is what we are declaring in M--'s life today. From this moment on, no matter how well his life goes, no matter what wonderful or difficult moments it contains, M-- will be marked as Christ's own forever.  God will be ever reaching out to him through the community of love--his family and friends--that surrounds him this day and which will nurture him in the days to come.

The Letter to the Hebrews expresses this mystery of new life as God's shaking the earth and being a "consuming fire.  These are images that our scriptures often associate with the end of time, images of God's revealing God's self to redeem creation from whatever separates us from God, which our theology calls “evil.”  Yet they are also images of transformation and new life for which we should give thanks: "Therefore since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer to God and acceptable worship with reverence and awe."

Although we understand God's grace to be a source of comfort and strength--and it is--both our scripture and our theology contain images of God's grace in transforming us that are frightening: being "buried" in the water of baptism, being shaken to remove what is unworthy, and being refined by fire of our evil tendencies.  These frightening images, metaphors for what we experience in life, show the tension that we enter when we become part of Christ's body through baptism.

M--, through his parents' promises, and we, through our renewal of the baptismal promises, willing open ourselves to God as God reaches out to us in the tension between love and transformation.  So let us rejoice; let us offer to God acceptable worship with reverence and awe; let us allow God's love to transform us and sustain us, as God draws us closer and closer to God’s self and to the healed and redeemed life God intends for each of us.

The 12th Sunday after Pentecost - Fear Will Be Overcome By Hope

Jesus said to his disciples, "Do not be afraid, little flock . . ."  What were the disciples afraid of? And what are each of us afraid of?  This question of fear affects the choices we make in every sphere of our lives.  Some of our fears are everyday sorts of fears: spiders, snakes, crowds, flying on airplanes, bacteria and viruses--you can add to this list, I'm sure.  Other fears concern bigger issues: we fear growing old and losing our health; we fear someone we love having a serious accident or getting a dread disease, we fear losing our job or our pension, we fear serious life events after which we will never be the same. Then there what we might call the existential fears: Do our lives have meaning? Is there more than just what we know in our world--which is often quite horrible?  How will it all end?

Physicists tell us that the components of our universe are traveling apart from each other at accelerating speed.  According to recent measurements, our descendants many, many years from now will look in the sky at night and see only darkness.  That's something I would fear, for I want my descendants to be able to look at the stars in the sky as Abram did and not be able to count them all.  I also fear, because I really don’t understand what all this means.  Here is the explanation of this phenomenon that shows its complexity and doesn't quiet my fears a bit: "The metric expansion of space is the increase of the distance between two distant parts of the universe with time. It is an intrinsic expansion whereby the scale of space itself is changed. That is, a metric expansion is defined by an increase in distance between parts of the universe even without those parts "moving" anywhere."  I want a universe that behaves in stable, not in strange, ways--but that isn't what we have been given.

T. S. Eliot, a twentieth century poet, wrote a poem called, "Hollow Men," in 1925, after the horror of trench warfare in World War I, but before the nuclear age when world-wide annihilation became possible.  He writes of a "Shadow" falling cross the futile lives of humanity and describes the end of existence this way:

“This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.”

(The Collected Poems and Plays: 1909 - 1950  - NYC: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1952, p. 59)

Robert Frost writing in 1920 takes a point of view similar to Eliot's:

“Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,   

Some say in ice.   

From what I’ve tasted of desire        

I hold with those who favor fire.       

But if it had to perish twice,     

I think I know enough of hate  

To know that for destruction ice       

Is also great

And would suffice.”

(From Harper’s Magazine, December 1920.)

Jesus speaks with quite a different tone about the end of time, which he calls "the kingdom" of God.  Jewish tradition taught that God's reign and the defeat of all who opposed God's reign would be heralded by the arrival of the Messiah.  Especially, the Roman oppressors would be conquered.  Those who occupied the bottom tier of society would be elevated in God's reign.  Remember Mary's song that we now call "Magnificat:"  [God] has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. [God] has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty."  That's what Jesus' disciples were hoping for when he told them not be afraid, "for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Hope which can overcome our fears: that's what Jesus taught the disciples to practice in the passage we heard today from Luke.  To be ready, to have your lamps lit, to be attentive for the return of the master--these are all ways of saying, "Be hopeful for what will come next."  The hope-filled image of the master serving the slaves held incredible, if puzzling, power for the disciples.  In the account of the final meal with his disciples in John's gospel, Jesus enacts this parable much to Peter's consternation.

Hope can sustain us when we face the difficulties of life that come to us all.  Our "unfailing treasure in heaven" kept in "purses . . that do not wear out . ." symbolizes our hope and our trust in God's abundant love for us.  God's love can shield us from our fears that will lead to distrust and despair.  Jesus' life and teaching, his death and resurrection provided the disciples--and provides us--with assurance of God's love for us.

All this can be summed up in the definition of faith that opens the 11th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews: "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."  Yes, we have been told about the confusing nature of the cosmos.  We have witnessed, and will continue to witness, the shadow side of human nature and the destructive force of hatred.  But we come to faith in Jesus Christ as the Holy One who has shown us hope.  He provides the assurance of things hoped for.  Through him we become convicted of God's abundant and unfailing love.  Because of Jesus Christ we know that our fears will not have the final word.  God's love will!