Throughout our study of Henri
Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the
gift of God naming us “beloved.”
Nouwen uses four words to
describe the movement of the Spirit among us: taken or chosen, blessed, broken,
and given. Tonight, my reflection is focused on this last word: given.
When I introduced these words, I
shared that they echo the words used when we describe the Eucharist. At the Table,
the bread - that is the Body of Christ - is taken, blessed, broken and given. And
in our Christian lives, where we too are a part of the Body of Christ,
we are given.
Nouwen writes about the joy found
in giving our lives and ourselves to others, saying that “our lives find
fulfillment in giving ourselves to others.” (108) And not only fulfillment, but
Nouwen says, “true joy, happiness, and inner peace.” (109)
He emphasizes that he is not
talking about giving from what we have, or even what we can do, but making a
gift of our presence.
When the North Carolina Synod had
our leaders’ convocation last week, the keynote speaker told the story of
having spent a year in Ethiopia where she learned to prioritize relationships
over timetables and schedules. If she encountered a student on her way to
class, they stopped and visited, and if that made her late, that was a cost she
was willing to pay. It sounds foreign to many of us who may have heard as
children, “If you arrive on time, you’re already late.”
But what would happen if we decided to prioritize our relationships ahead of the next task, appointment or meeting? What if we live as if we believe our presence is a gift, and the person in front of us is the recipient?
Nouwen writes, “When I ask
myself, “Who helps me the most?” I must answer, “The one who is willing to
share his or her life with me.” (113)
The second point Nouwen makes is
that not only are our lives gifts, but also our deaths. It’s a
startling claim at first, but he illustrates his point with the example of St.
Francis, whose influence continues more than eight centuries after his death. “His
life goes on bearing new fruit around the world. His spirit keeps descending
upon us.” (121)
Listening to Nouwen and to John’s
gospel, we are reminded that the fruitfulness of our own lives, the harvest of
the fruit we bear, will likely be realized after our deaths.
Could we trust that our gifts are
multiplied when we give them away? (123)
Like Elisha giving twenty loaves of
barley to a crowd of more than one hundred and then gathering the leftovers (2
Kings 4:42-44) or the feeding of the five thousand that we hear in all four
gospels (Matthew 14:13–21; Mark 6:31–44; Luke 9:12–17; John 6:1–14), God
multiplies and God uses what we offer.
May we respond to the call to
give ourselves for the sake of the world around us, and to give joyfully,
without reluctance or hesitation.
Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”
We have reflected on two of the
four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit among us. We
are “taken” or “chosen” by God and God calls us “blessed”.
The next word Nouwen uses is broken.
Some twenty years before writing Life
of the Beloved, Nouwen wrote The Wounded Healer. In that book his
premise was that one who is ministering to others must look after one’s own
wounds but at the same time be prepared to heal the wounds of others. He recognizes
that we all bear wounds and we all are broken.
In this book, he writes,
Our
sufferings and pains are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives; they
touch us in our uniqueness and our most intimate individuality. (87)
He continues, writing,
The way I
am broken tells you something unique about me.
The way you are broken tells me something about you. (87)
And he urges us not to be afraid
of our brokenness,
but to accept our brokenness as readily
as we accept our chosen-ness and blessedness.
One of the first ways we can
accept our brokenness is to name it.
“Loneliness, isolation,
insecurity, frustration, confusion…all these are forms of brokenness.” (Week 5,
Study Guide) And I wonder,
what kind of brokenness feels most present or challenging for you right now?
(pause)
Writing this book to his
friend, Nouwen says choosing to share our brokenness with each other, to share our
deep struggles, is a sign of deep friendship or relationship. (86)
I think one of the beautiful parts
of friendship is when we can sit with another person and listen to them share
their brokenness without denying it or trying to fix it.
Once we accept our brokenness Nouwen
suggests two practices for us to respond to it: befriending it
and putting it under the blessing. (92)
Ignoring or hiding pain or
suffering doesn’t erase it or reduce its effects. When we are fearful, our fear
magnifies the obstacles and the challenges we face seem even larger.
Nouwen suggests instead that we
need to step toward our pain and live through it. (95)
There’s no way to go around it.
But we do not face it alone.
[We] need
someone to keep us standing in it, to assure [us] that there is peace beyond
anguish, life beyond death, and love beyond fear. (95)
As siblings in Christ, we help
each other transform our suffering.
And when we do that, we also
bring that suffering out of the shadows and bring it to God.
The shadows or what Nouwen calls
“the curse” is our temptation to understand the brokenness we experience as
confirmation of our un-worthiness.
It is what happens when we forget
we are God’s beloved,
when we forget we are chosen by God as God’s children,
and when we forget we are blessed by God
for the sake of the world God loves.
I think of Adam and Eve in Eden
in Genesis, when they hide from God.
Genesis 3, verses 8 and 9 say:
8 They
heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the
evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of
the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9 But the Lord God
called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” 10 He said, “I
heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked,
and I hid myself.”
I wonder how often we hide among
the trees, hoping to hide something about ourselves from the God who created
and loves us? (pause)
Nouwen urges us instead to put
our brokenness under the blessing of God, trusting God to use our
experiences to strengthen us and to see the pruning or winnowing as a natural
part of our growth as disciples. (98)
Like joy, sorrow “becomes [part
of our] desire to grow to the fullness of the Beloved.” (99)
That reminds me of Peter after
the crucifixion.
John 21 tells the story of Jesus and
the disciples cooking breakfast on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, and Simon
Peter and Jesus are having a conversation where three times Jesus asks Simon
Peter whether he loves Jesus. And each time, Peter insists, “Yes, Lord, you
know that I love you.” And Jesus does know. And he knows Peter
faltered and denied him three times before his crucifixion. And he forgives
him.
Truly, nothing is hidden from
God and nothing, not even our brokenness, separates us from the
love of God and our lives as God’s beloved.
Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”
Last week we reflected on the
first of four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit
among us. We heard we are “taken” or “chosen” by God.
The next word Nouwen is blessed.
When he talks about
“Blessed-ness” he isn’t talking about the kinds of material or superficial
blessing that we might see in pop culture and in the world around us.
Nouwen describes blessing as
hearing God speaking with “a small intimate voice saying, “You are my
Beloved Child, on you my favor rests.” (77)
God has spoken these words
before.
In Genesis 12, Scripture
tells us that God says to Abram, 2 I will make of you a great
nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a
blessing.
And in tonight’s reading from the
Sermon on the Mount, we hear Jesus declaring the blessed-ness of all different
peoples.
But even as we remember how God
blessed our spiritual ancestors, Nouwen acknowledges how often in our lives
today, that voice can be drowned out by competing claims, by condemnation and
by blame or shame. (69,73)
And then he suggests two practices for us to learn to receive the gift of our blessed-ness: prayer and presence.
We often define prayer as a
conversation with God.
Nouwen challenges us that “the
real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says
good things about me.” - not to be self-indulgent but to be disciplined enough
to push aside the “many voices that question my goodness” and trust God’s
voice. (75-76)
I have taught the contemplative practice
of centering prayer and sitting in stillness to listen to God. Sometimes it’s
maddening because your mind wanders, and you can feel like you are wasting
time. But teachers will tell you that the distractions are part of the
practice. You learn to let the random thoughts float by and let them go,
without grasping at them and engaging them.
Nouwen describes how he uses the
prayer of Saint Francis, whose feast day was just last Saturday, as a sacred
word or prayer to return his attention to God. Others might use a single word
or phrase or recite the 23rd Psalm or the Lord’s Prayer. Finding
words to repeat slowly helps ground you in the silence and prepare you to “listen
to the voice of love” that is God. (78)
The second suggestion he makes is
a practice of presence. Mary Oliver has a poem where she said, “Sometimes I
need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.” (“It was Early”, Evidence.)
When our lives are busy or we are
distracted, we may not notice what is right in front of us.
An easy example for me is how I
sometimes forget to really take in the beauty of this sanctuary; it can become
a backdrop for whatever activity is taking place, but I don’t really see it.
But take a minute to look around and to notice, the stained-glass windows, the
vaulted ceiling and the soaring cross, just to begin to name the ways that this
space is especially adorned for worship.
Along the same lines, when our
hands are full, we cannot receive anything more. I wonder what we might set
down to be open to receiving what God offers? How can we change our posture to
be open to the blessing that others may offer, and to learn to bless others in
turn? Nouwen tells the story of being asked for a blessing by someone just
before a prayer gathering, so he began to automatically make the sign of the cross,
but the person stopped him. She said she wanted “a real blessing”, so he took
time in their gathering to embrace her and call her by name, saying,
“I want
you to know you are God’s beloved daughter. You are precious in God’s eyes.
Your beautiful smile, your kindness and your actions show what a beautiful
human you are. When you have sadness, I want you to remember who you are: a
very special person, deeply loved by God, and all the people here. (71)
And then there was a cascade of
people who witnessed that blessing who asked to receive a blessing.
We ache to know we are loved, and
when we can receive the gift of our blessing, we can then bless others.
As I reflected on Nouwen’s words,
I thought of just the past ten days or so, and the many blessings I have
witnessed. Several of us went to Bat Cave for a house blessing for a house that
was built for a family whose house was destroyed in the hurricane last year.
And then Jill and I talked with a couple of preschool families about faith
practices that include teaching their children simple blessings. And on
Saturday, a friend gifted Ada with a blessing bowl at Denny’s memorial service
and guests wrote out their memories of Denny to share with his family. At
Sunday’s worship, Rita gave our benediction in German, and later that day, I
led a blessing of the animals outside.
It makes me wonder if we can
practice this attentiveness to God’s movement in our lives, through prayer and
presence.
Would you experiment with praying in stillness and quiet? I’ve printed the words from 1 John 4:7-8 for you; try reading them slowly and letting them sink into your heart as you listen for God’s blessing for you.
Could you find one person whom you
can bless? It can be as simple as telling them, “God loves you.” Or “It is good
that you exist.”
And then let’s see what’s different when we’re together again.
In Life of the Beloved Nouwen
urges us to receive the proclamation that each of us is God’s Beloved
and then he acknowledges that “becoming the beloved” means embodying
God’s love in our words and actions,
a task that isn’t accomplished in a day or a week or even a single season of
our lives, but is an ongoing process.
Nouwen uses four words to
describe the movement of the Spirit among us: taken, blessed, broken and given
and we’re going to reflect on one word each week, beginning with “Taken”.
Concerned that “taken” can be
heard as “cold and brittle”, Nouwen quickly replaces it with “chosen”, writing,
“As children of God, we are God’s chosen ones.” (51)
We hear this same language in our
readings tonight from John’s gospel and from Paul’s letter to the Romans. I
often say, “God gets all the verbs.” Tonight, we hear:
God chooses
us.
God adopts us, and
God makes us heirs to God’s kingdom.
God does
that, FOR US.
Nouwen continues, writing, “From
all eternity, long before you were born and became a part of history, you
existed in God’s heart.” (53-54)
I remember the first time I heard
someone describe Jesus’ prayer in the high priestly prayer in John 17. There
Jesus is praying and he says, “9
I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world but on
behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours.”
Jesus prays for us because
he knows how much God loves us, because God has claimed us as God’s own.
Nouwen writes because he
wants us to understand that in the gaze of Christ, or as he writes, “the
eyes of love”, we are seen as precious. (56)
God has chosen us with an everlasting love. (58)
Chosen. Precious. Beloved.
These are the words God uses for
us, even when our world says otherwise. When we hear words that tear down or diminish,
or when we experience rejection or humiliation, those words are not of God.
For that matter, when we inflict suffering on others with our words, that
is not of God either.
Choose whose voice you will heed.
And then celebrate with gratitude
to God and to every person who reminds you of your chosen-ness. As Nouwen
writes, “When we keep claiming the light, we will find ourselves becoming more
and more radiant.” (62) That is the work of the Holy Spirit in us.
And as we live with gratitude, we
also cultivate the desire for others to know that they too are chosen by God
and beloved.
Nouwen writes, “It is impossible
to compete for God’s love.” (64) My being chosen doesn’t mean someone
else is excluded or rejected. Instead, as he says, we call forth “each other’s
chosen-ness and a mutual affirmation of being precious in God’s eyes.” (65)
This is how we live as God’s
Chosen.
I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.
Oremos…Que las palabras de mi boca y la meditación de nuestro corazón sean gratas ante ti, Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén.
Pensando esta semana, en lo que nos dice esta parábola, me encontré con una caricatura que muestra a un ángel sonriente con túnica y a un hombre de pie sobre las nubes, mirando un ascensor claramente marcado con "arriba hacia al cielo" y "abajo hacia al infierno" y el hombre dice: "De alguna manera pensé que sería algo diferente".i
La parábola comienza con un hombre rico, más rico de lo que nadie puede imaginar, vestido de púrpura y lino fino, que festeja con suntuosidad y extravagancia todos los días, no solo en Shabat o en días santos. En mi imaginación, me imagino a Midas, recordado en la mitología griega por su capacidad de convertir en oro todo lo que tocaba.
Y luego Jesús nos habla de un segundo hombre, un hombre pobre que fue colocado en la puerta del hombre rico, a la entrada de su propiedad. En otras traducciones, a este hombre se le llama limosnero. Dependía de la ayuda de sus vecinos y de la comunidad, pero nunca oímos que recibiera ayuda del rico ni de nadie más.
Lo único que se nos dice de él es que tiene llagas que los perros lamen, y se nos dice su nombre. Se llama Lázaro, del hebreo el azar, que significa "Dios ha ayudado".
Las interpretaciones populares de esta parábola suelen añadir detalles que no forman parte de la historia. No se dice nada sobre la pureza ritual ni sobre la impureza. No se dice nada sobre el comportamiento de ninguno de los dos hombres. No se dice nada sobre la piedad, la religiosidad, la fe, la creencia ni la rectitud de ninguno de los dos. Son simplemente dos hombres: uno rico y bien alimentado, el otro pobre y hambriento.
Sin embargo, sabemos por las Escrituras que
para los judíos observantes de la Torá, y para los cristianos en general, el
mandato bíblico de cuidar a los pobres es claro.
• En Deuteronomio capitulo quince se instruye
al pueblo: “Abre tu mano al pobre y al necesitado de tu tierra”. ii
• En la literatura sapiencial, Proverbios
dice: “Quienes desprecian a su prójimo son pecadores, pero felices son los que
son bondadosos con los pobres”. iii y “2 El rico y el
pobre tienen esto en común: el Señor es el creador de todos ”. iv
• Y los profetas también aportan su granito de arena: Isaías le dice al pueblo: “Comparte tu pan con el hambriento y lleva a tu casa a los pobres sin hogar”. v Y Zacarías nos instruye: “Muestren bondad y misericordia los unos con los otros; 10 no opriman a la viuda, al huérfano, al extranjero ni al pobre”. vi
Al escuchar esta parábola, nos preguntamos: ¿Por qué el hombre rico ignoraría a Lázaro? Quizás se sentía impotente para ayudar o temía que se aprovecharan de él. Sin embargo, al reconocer nuestra condición humana, parece probable que nunca viera a Lázaro como su responsabilidad; o no le importaba lo que le sucediera o estaba ciego al sufrimiento que tenía frente a él, y ni siquiera vio al pobre.
Nuestro desconcierto dura poco.
En los versículos siguientes se nos dice que cada hombre muere y llega a habitar el Hades, que se traduce literalmente como el "lugar que no se ve". Irónicamente, Lázaro, quien no fue visto en vida, sí es visto alli.
Hades, infierno, Seol o Gehenna se usan en las Escrituras para describir el lugar de los muertos. Las descripciones que tenemos no son literales ni geográficas, y nuestra comprensión del cielo y el infierno ha cambiado a lo largo del tiempo.
Los antiguos israelitas creían en un mundo de tres niveles donde el cielo estaba arriba y los muertos iban a un inframundo moralmente neutral abajo. No fue hasta el siglo IV (cuarto) que los judíos adoptaron la visión helenística del cielo como lugar para los salvos y el infierno como lugar para los condenados. Muchas de las imágenes familiares y gráficas del infierno que hoy reconocemos se originaron en el poema épico del siglo decimocuarto de Dante, la Divina Comedia, y en las pinturas del Juicio Final de los siglos decimoquinto y decimosexto, y estas imágenes persisten en la cultura popular actual.
Esta parábola describe un lugar completamente diferente “donde los salvos y los condenados podían verse”.viii
Cuando el hombre rico clama, es evidente que lo único que ha cambiado es su ubicación. Su forma de pensar es la misma que tenia en vida.
Aunque ahora ve a Lázaro, e incluso sabe su nombre, sigue diferenciando como un “otro” a Lázaro, hablando sobre él, en lugar de hablarle directamente. El hombre rico primero le pide a Abraham que envíe a Lázaro a traerle agua. Y cuando eso falla, le pide que envíe a Lázaro a sus cinco hermanos para que se les evite el tormento que él está experimentando. Permanece ciego a la verdad de que él y Lázaro son ambos hijos de Abraham, hermanos ante los ojos de Dios.
Incluso cuando Abraham le dice al hombre rico
que hay un abismo que puede ser cruzado, no ve su propia complicidad en su
destino. Su propia ignorancia y falta de compasión excavaron ese abismo; es el
mismo abismo que usó en vida para separarse de los pobres y los que sufrían. Es
tan profundo como sus miedos y desprecio, su egoísmo y desprecio. Ahora, como
escribe la teóloga Amy-Jill Levine, "pasará la eternidad viendo lo que no
puede tener".x
— una plenitud que solo es posible en la vida con Dios, como parte del reino.
Esta parábola nos recuerda que “Dios no se rige por nuestras reglas”. xi Cuando nos encontremos con el reino de Dios, será diferente de lo que imaginamos, así como Dios está más allá de nuestro conocimiento y comprensión actual. Lo que sabemos en este momento, y lo que nos enseñan la ley y los profetas, es que tenemos la responsabilidad de derramar la misericordia y la compasión de Dios aquí y ahora.
Oremos…
Dios del cielo y de la tierra,
Gracias por tu misericordia y gracia que nos
hace tus hijos y herederos de tu reino.
Enséñanos a ver a las personas con tus ojos y
a amarlas como tú las amas.
Haznos compasivos y generosos al salir al
mundo a compartir la Buenas Nuevas de tu abundante amor.
Oramos en el nombre de Jesús, nuestro Señor y
Salvador.
Amén.
i Werner Wejp-Olsen. https://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/o/otis.asp,
accessed 9/28/2019.
ii Deuteronomy 15:11
iii Proverbs 14:21
iv Proverbs 22:1-2
v Isaiah 58:7
vi Zechariah 7:9-10
vii https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_cosmology, accessed 9/26/2019.
viii Amy-Jill Levine. Short Stories by Jesus.
286.
vix Levine, 288.
x Levine. 289.
xi Levine, 300.
Thinking this week about what this parable says to us, I came across a cartoon that shows a smiling robed angel and a man standing on clouds, looking at an elevator clearly marked “up for heaven “and “down for hell” and the man is saying, “Somehow I thought it would be somewhat different.”[i]
The parable begins with a rich man who is richer than anyone can imagine, clothed in “purple and fine linen” and feasting sumptuously or extravagantly every day, not just at Shabbat or on high holy days. In my imagination, I picture Midas who is remembered in Greek mythology for his ability to turn everything he touched into gold.
And then Jesus tells us about a second man, a poor man who was laid at the gate of the rich man, at the entrance to his property. In other translations, this man is called a beggar. He was dependent on help from neighbors and community, but we never hear that he received any help from the rich man or anyone else.
All we are told about him is that he has sores that the dogs lick, and we are told his name. He is named Lazarus from the Hebrew el azar which means “God has helped.”
Popular interpretations of this parable often add things that aren’t part of the story. Nothing is said about ritual purity and uncleanliness. Nothing is said about either man’s demeanor. Nothing is said about either man’s piety or religiosity, faith or belief, or righteousness. They’re just two men, one rich and well-fed, one poor and hungry.
However, we know from Scripture that for Torah-observant Jews, and for
Christians for that matter, the biblical mandate to care for the poor is clear.
· In Deuteronomy 15
the people are instructed, “"Open your hand to the
poor and needy neighbor in your land."[ii]
· In wisdom
literature, Proverbs says, “Those who despise their
neighbors are sinners, but happy are those who are kind to the poor.[iii]
and “2 The rich and the poor have this in common: the LORD is the
maker of them all.”[iv]
· And the prophets add their two cents, too: Isaiah tells the people, “share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house;[v] and Zechariah instructs us, “show kindness and mercy to one another; 10 do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor;”[vi]
Hearing this parable, we wonder, Why would the rich man ignore Lazarus? Maybe he felt powerless to help, or anxious that he would be taken advantage of. Recognizing our human condition though, it seems as likely that he never saw Lazarus as his responsibility; he either didn’t care what happened to the man or he was blind to the suffering right in front of him, and never even saw the poor man.
Our bewilderment is short-lived.
In the verses that follow we’re told each man dies and come to inhabit Hades, which translates literally as the “unseen place.” Ironically, Lazarus, who was not seen in life, is seen there.
Hades, hell, Sheol or Gehenna are all used in Scripture to describe the place of the dead. The descriptions we have aren’t literal or geographical and our understanding of heaven and hell has changed throughout time. Ancient Israelites believed in a three-tiered world where heaven was above and the dead went to a morally neutral underworld below. It wasn’t until the fourth century that Jews adopted the Hellenistic view of heaven as a place for the saved and hell as a place for the damned.[vii] Many of the familiar and graphic images of hell we might recognize today originated with Dante’s fourteenth century epic poem Divine Comedy and 15th and 16th century paintings of the Last Judgment and these images persist in popular culture today.
This parable describes a completely different place “where the saved and the damned could see each other.”[viii]
When the rich man cries out, it’s clear that the only thing that has changed is his location. His way of thinking is the same as it was in life. While he now sees Lazarus, and even knows his name, he still “others” him, speaking about him, instead of speaking directly to him. The rich man first asks Abraham to send Lazarus to bring him water. And when that fails, he asks him to send Lazarus to his five brothers so that they might be spared the torment that he’s experiencing. He remains blind to the truth that he and Lazarus are both children of Abraham, brothers in God’s sight. [ix]
Even when Abraham tells the rich man there is a chasm that cannot be bridged, he fails to see his own complicity in his fate. His own ignorance and lack of compassion carved out that chasm; it is the same chasm he used in life to separate himself from the poor and the suffering. It is as deep as his fears and disdain, his selfishness and contempt. Now, as theologian Amy-Jill Levine writes, “he will spend eternity seeing what he cannot have”[x] — a wholeness that is only possible in life with God, as part of the kingdom.
This parable reminds us that “God does not play by our rules.”[xi] When we encounter God’s kingdom, it’s going to be different than we imagine, just as God is beyond our knowledge and understanding now. What we know, right now, and what we are taught in the law and by the prophets, is that we have the responsibility to pour out God’s mercy and compassion here and now.
Let us pray…
God of heaven and earth,
Thank you for your mercy and grace that make us Your children and heirs
to Your kingdom.
Teach us to see people through Your eyes and to love them as You love
them.
Make us compassionate and generous as we go out into the world to share
the Good News of your abundant love.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.
[i] Werner Wejp-Olsen. https://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/o/otis.asp,
accessed 9/28/2019.
[ii] Deuteronomy 15:11
[iii] Proverbs 14:21
[iv] Proverbs 22:1-2
[v] Isaiah 58:7
[vi] Zechariah 7:9-10
[vii]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_cosmology, accessed 9/26/2019.
[viii] Amy-Jill Levine. Short Stories by Jesus.
286.
[ix] Levine, 288.
[x] Levine. 289.
[xi] Levine, 300.
Henri Nouwen’s Life of the
Beloved begins by urging us to accept, or receive, the proclamation that each
of us is God’s Beloved.
Next, Nouwen describes the
difference between “being the beloved” and “becoming” the beloved.
The latter looks a lot like the incarnation.
“In the incarnation, life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ,
God reconciles the world to God’s own self, and in doing so reconciles us to
one another.”[i]
This “Becoming” is what happens
when we so fully live into our identity that our Beloved-ness is visible
and tangible in the ways we eat and drink, talk and love, play and work. (47)
It is what happens when we embody
God’s love in our words and actions, in the everyday activities of our
lives.
And it is a process.
I think when we are children, we
imagine that life will be a linear journey. Maybe there will be some ups and
downs, but generally it will be steady forward movement.
And then we discover that life is
far less predictable than that. Life can be topsy-turvy and chaotic. Sometimes,
it proceeds at a rapid pace, and other times, we get stopped in our tracks and
it feels like everything has come to a grinding halt.
As followers of Jesus, we never
journey alone, but with God accompanying us and loving us every day. Part of
“becoming the beloved’ is recognizing God’s presence with us.
Nouwen urges us to notice the
ways that the Holy Spirit is active in our lives, instead of merely going
through the motions, or falling into patterns of busy-ness, boredom or
listlessness that lack meaning or depth.
In the weeks ahead, we’ll talk
about the four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit
among us: taken, blessed, broken and given – words that echo the meal that we
share when we gather at the Lord’s Table, and again invite us into relationship
with our Incarnate God.
Amen.
[i]
Rachel Wangen Hoch. “Incarnation and the Holy Innocents.” Journal of Lutheran
Ethics. December 2010 (Volume 10 Issue 12). https://learn.elca.org/jle/incarnation-and-the-holy-innocents/,
accessed 9/23/25.
Sometimes,
when we listen to Jesus teach in parables we hear a clear command:
“Go and do
likewise.”
Today isn’t one of those times. While the parable we hear in Luke’s gospel leaves us with a lot of questions, I can confidently say that Jesus doesn’t want us to loan money and charge outrageous interest, steal from our employers, or manipulate others so that they will be indebted to us.
So, we’re left with confusion about why Jesus tells us this parable at all.
The best explanation I have heard is one offered by Julian DeShazier (Dee-Shah-Zee-Ay), a pastor and faculty member at McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago. He thinks that “[Jesus] is talking to two different audiences.”[i]
This
conversation follows his telling of the parable of the lost things that we
heard last week and the parable of the prodigal son.
Jesus is talking to his disciples, but we know they are also surrounded by all these other people who Luke tells us are tax collectors, sinners, Pharisees and scribes. (15:1-2) So “Jesus talks to the crowd, pauses, talks to his disciples, and then talks to the crowd again.”[ii]
A few weeks ago, when my daughter got married in Boston, the ceremony was in the Boston Public Garden. There were about thirty of us at the wedding, but it was a large public park so there were also a number of people on the periphery of where the ceremony took place. People we didn’t know. But they could hear and see everything that was happening.
That’s seems to be what’s happening here. Jesus has two audiences.
This parable isn’t about imparting a life lesson or teaching good behavior.
Instead, I think Jesus tells the people in the crowd who have made dishonest gains or treated others unfairly to change their behavior and redeem themselves.
I think he is challenging all of his followers to see the abundant gifts God has entrusted us with and ask how we can be good stewards.
What does it look like for us to be found trustworthy with what we have been given?
We shouldn’t
underestimate the wealth we’ve been given.
The true riches
we have are
our very lives, lived in response to God’s love.
We have
boundless grace from God and forgiveness for our sin.
We have an
inheritance with Jesus as children of God.
And, we are entrusted with the Good News of God’s love and empowered by the Holy Spirit to share that Good News with others.
That is wealth that cannot be measured in dollars and cents.
But we,
especially here at Grace Lutheran Church,
are also stewards
of wealth that can be measured in dollars and cents.
This week I sat in with board members from the Grace Foundation as they evaluated funding requests and made decisions about the grants to distribute later this year. There is more than $120,000 available for grants and scholarships because the foundation has been a good steward of what they’ve been given.
And recently, Deacon Kimberly has been in meetings with social ministry as they make budget recommendations for next year, deciding which ministry partnerships to continue and where investment is needed most. This year, they gave nearly $60,000 in support for our neighbors, including helping address housing and food insecurity, and care for our children and vulnerable neighbors.
Individually, in the stewardship mailing that may have already arrived in your mailbox, and that Jen Heilemann from the stewardship team described in this morning’s ministry moment, each of us here is also being asked, “How will you respond to God’s abundance?”
One aspect of your stewardship is financial giving. As a former fundraiser, I am not going to shy away from asking you to invest financially in Grace’s ministry and mission for the coming year. Not as something you “have to do” but as something you “get to do.” In our partnership together, you have an opportunity to see God’s love in action through our work as the Church and experience the joy of seeing God’s love transform our world.
Another aspect of your stewardship is your relationship with God, so we ask how you will respond to the invitation to grow deeper spiritually. Maybe you will take time to be quiet and study or read, listening for God’s voice, or to get loud and sing, celebrating all God has given us.
And thirdly, we invite you to reflect on your service in the congregation and community. What does love in action look like for you?
One of the joys I have where I sit is getting to see all the people from Grace who are involved in the community apart from Grace’s initiatives. Independently from Servant Saturday, food drives and the other opportunities we provide, many of you are connected to our ministry partners because you have responded to their needs with your time, skills and knowledge. In the many ways that you are God’s hands and feet in the world, you are being stewards of all that God has given you.
We are all stewards of what we have been given in abundance by God, and God calls us to be faithful and trustworthy in matters large and small.
May it be so in our community.
Amen.
[i] Julian
DeShazier . “Living by the Word”, Christian Century, August 27,
2019.
[ii] ibid
Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved began as a letter to a dear friend. He had met a man named Fred Bratman years earlier when Nouwen was teaching at Columbia University, and they had many conversations about spiritual and secular life. Bratman, a secular Jew living in New York City later asked Nouwen to write for him and his friends, an audience unfamiliar with the language and traditions of the Church and Christianity. He told Nouwen, “You have something to say, but you keep saying it to the people who least need to hear it.” (21)
Over the next seven weeks, I’m going to reflect on Nouwen’s book and what difference it makes that God calls each of us “God’s beloved”, and we are called to live a life based on that fact.
Nouwen begins as we did last
Wednesday with God’s words to Jesus at his baptism:
“You are my Son, the Beloved; my
favor rests on you.” (Mt. 3:16-17, Mark 1:10-11, Luke 3: 21-22)
To each one of us, God says, “You
are the Beloved.”
And, I wonder, what images come to your mind when you hear the word “loved” or “beloved”?
God chooses each one of us and
loves each one of us with the same heart with which God loves Jesus. (Abiding
Together podcast)
In our lives, sometimes we have
other voices that tell us a different message; the message that says you are
“no good”, “a failure”, “worthless”, “ugly” or “a nobody”, and those negative
voices can be so loud or persistent that they are easy to believe.
But God’s voice is louder
still.
This reminds me of Martin Luther
who, as the story goes, would face temptation by saying, ‘I have been baptized,
I am a Christian.” (Works of Martin
Luther (WAT) Volume 6. no.6830; 217, 26f.)
We need to listen for God’s voice
calling us the Beloved.
We need to remember that God
speaks truth, and, as Pope John Paul II said, “We are not the sum of what we’ve
done but of the Father’s love for us.” (Apostolic Letter to the Elderly
(October 1, 1999))
And we need to remember, as
Deacon Kimberly reminded us on Sunday, and we heard again in tonight’s reading
from Romans, that nothing separates us from the love of God.
Listening for God’s voice is a
central practice of our faith and spirituality. This is
the work of prayer, not only talking to God, but leaving space for silence and
active listening for what God says and how God responds. It is easy to listen
to loud and intrusive voices, to streaming media and news, and even to friends
and family, but listening to God’s voice “with great attentiveness” is
different.
As we continue with worship and go about our daily lives through the coming week, I invite you to stop each day and take time to listen to God who calls you the beloved. Amen.
I can’t hear Jesus’ words in our gospel this morning and not think of Emily Post. Emily Post became famous in the early twentieth century for her writing about etiquette – manners and behaviors based on consideration, respect and honesty, and her standards were widely accepted and taught. I still remember the etiquette dinner my business college hosted for the seniors so we could learn how to engage in a professional setting, and, among other things, not order spaghetti and meatballs - with the potential hazards of splattered tomato sauce, slurped noodles and flying meatballs.
But Emily
Post wasn’t Jesus.
And Jesus wasn’t giving etiquette lessons.
In our gospel today, when Jesus joins the pharisee and his dinner guests at the table, first he watches them and sees them make completely predictable choices that are in keeping with the norms of their society and culture in the first century of the Greco-Roman world. A society based on rank and position and status. A culture based on hierarchy and patronage.
Then Jesus tells them a parable that challenges them to make different choices next time.
Because Jesus
envisions a kingdom that erases human divisions and appreciates differing gifts
and abilities and creates a place of belonging for all.
Jesus shows
the pharisee and his guests that the system they are operating within is exclusive
and unfair:
Guests
jockey for the best seat because their proximity to the host implies something
positive about their status.
And hosts
invite guests who can reciprocate or repay them with a similar gesture.
The system defines a person’s value solely based on what they can give or do for another person.
For those who have resources, the system works well. But if someone is a child or a woman or is differently abled – in the language from Luke “poor, crippled, lame or blind” – then they wouldn’t be invited to the table.
And that’s a big problem. For Jesus. And for us.
For decades, especially in the last century, Lutheran churches grew because generations of Lutheran families gave birth to more generations of Lutherans. Today, procreation is not a reliable church growth strategy. Similarly, in the mid-twentieth century, Lutheran churches grew because in part because the Church was at the center of white American culture and society. Today, it just isn’t. Another reality is that for a very long time, churches have been structured on the idea that we are first a community of believers, and that a person who believes what “Christians” believe and behaves the way “Christians” behave is welcome and “belongs”.
But what
happens when we meet a person who didn’t grow up going to church on Sundays and
Wednesdays and isn’t sure what Lutherans believe?
or someone
who isn’t married or doesn’t have children but wants to belong in a community?
or a young parent who loves worship, but they’re shushed when the baby babbles through the choir’s anthem?
Jesus’ vision is a prophetic vision of a beloved community that levels the uneven ground and smooths out the rough places (Isaiah 40:4) so that all are welcome.
“All are
welcome” is a big tent statement. I mean, it says that you are welcome
regardless of …you name it:
your
political beliefs;
your
language or country of origin;
what clothes
you are wearing;
your
education level;
your housing
status….and on and on.
It’s a long
list. And I think Jesus means it.
He wants us
to welcome all,
even the people who are different from me and from you.
You may remember that I didn’t grow up Lutheran. I remember two particular times when the Lutheran congregations where we worshiped welcomed my family especially well. The first was in the congregation where our children were baptized and where we became ELCA Lutherans. In that congregation, I would sit in the last pew. I’d bring my knitting and my coffee and participate in worship as best as a tired young mother could. And then in another state and another congregation, the pastor invited our elementary-age daughter to serve as the acolyte, and no one said anything when our youngest danced in the side aisle during the hymns. In both of those congregations, we found a place where we belonged and learned what it means to be Lutheran later.
Jesus’
vision for the Kingdom offers us opportunities to see
ourselves and others through the lenses of
compassion, equality and abundance, instead of productivity, rank and
scarcity. We are more than what we can offer someone else, and we don’t need to
be anxious about whether we belong at the table, or whether someone else is
going to take our seat or get an even better one.
Here at Grace, one of our goals for the new strategic plan is focused on supporting members and visitors in the Grace community, helping people know God’s love for them, and creating a supportive environment for all ages and backgrounds.
Even before the strategic plan was adopted last spring, we recognized that some folks have a hard time sitting for an extended amount of time, and others, like me, listen better when my hands are busy. So now we have a basket of fidget toys near the doors to the sanctuary. And anyone, child or adult, is welcome to use the noiseless toys and return them after worship.
Another conversation we’ve been having is how we can organize programming and activities that accommodate working adults and families, so that’s part of why we have reimagined Oasis this fall. We hope a later start time will make it more feasible for folks to come over to church or hop online on Wednesday nights at 6:30, take a deep breath and worship in community here at Grace.
As some of you noticed, we are also asking how we can have people with different gifts and backgrounds involved as congregation leaders here at Grace. We have a lot of older, white and retired members, and we are grateful for the many gifts you share, AND we want to listen well to others whose experiences and gifts are different from yours.
Some may
lament that the table isn’t big enough to include everyone, but the answer
isn’t to turn them away.
The answer
is to build a longer table, not only seeing and accepting the beautiful array
of gifts God gives us in each other,
but
appreciates how our differences are a blessing.
This is the
Lord’s table after all, and all are welcome.
Amen.
Whenever we get a story of a woman in Scripture, I get curious. There just aren’t that many. We know that women in the first century and certainly in the centuries before that were not powerful. Their stories don’t often get told. Even more rarely are their names shared. A woman’s value was defined by her childbearing ability or by the wealth of her husband, and while she may have been cherished as a treasured possession, she was not generally seen as a whole and beloved person in her own right.
It has taken millennia to improve the situation of women in society, and sadly, there are still places and circumstances where women find themselves dismissed, ignored or even erased.
So, whenever we get a story of a woman in Scripture, I get curious.
This week Luke tells us the story of a woman who appeared while Jesus was teaching. We never learn her name, but we know that she was crippled by a spirit and she had not been able to stand up straight for eighteen years. And yet, she shows up at the synagogue.
And as little as we know about this woman, we know that when Jesus sees her, he immediately heals her. There are no questions or qualifying events; there are no bargains struck or hoops to jump through.
There is healing, and it is unconditional mercy, a free gift.
Luke tells us that the woman begins praising God and the crowd around Jesus rejoices at all he is doing.
But apparently, everyone isn’t joyful. Luke says the religious leader is indignant. Outraged. Annoyed. Vexed. As a colleague noted, there’s no way to make this word positive. The argument the synagogue leader makes is that Jesus has broken the sabbath, but his complaint isn’t really about the sabbath.
It’s about Jesus.
Jesus who is going to break tradition and cross boundaries in order to heal this woman. Jesus who is not going to defer justice. Jesus who is not going to wait until it is convenient to do what is right. And Jesus who is not going to worry about who he makes uncomfortable while he carries out God’s kingdom work.
When he
encounters the woman, Jesus sees what no one else could; he sees how the glorious
breaking in of God’s kingdom is going to bring grace, healing and freedom to someone who is hurting,
and he resolves
that he is not going to stand in its
way.
It makes me wonder how do we respond when we see God’s kingdom breaking in? With praise and rejoicing? With indignation? Who are we in this Jesus story?
I want to believe that I would rejoice too. I want to believe that I would not have thought of this stranger as a disruption. I want to believe that I would have welcomed her unusual appearance and been sympathetic to her plight.
And yet, I
know I might have been uncomfortable, and I might have had to swallow my
impulse to insist on maintaining good order.
I might have had to remember to get out of God’s way.
This week I have been reflecting on a prayer attributed to Julian of Norwich.
If you aren’t familiar with her, Julian was an anchoress, or a religious recluse, who lived in the fourteenth century in England. Her writings are some of “the earliest surviving English-language works attributed to a woman.”[i] And while, ironically, Reformation leaders disparaged her and refused to publish her, today she is considered a significant Christian mystic and theologian.
Her prayer
is one of the most well-known excerpts and it ends with these words:
Teach us to believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, And all manner of things shall be well. Amen.
As a girl, Julian lived through the Black Plague, and in her thirties, she survived serious illness. Later, she lived through the Peasants’ Revolt.
Julian had plenty of reasons to fear the world and yet, she trusted that God’s grace would make all manner of things well.
I
am struck by Julian’s prayer in part because it is not by her efforts or merits
that all things shall be well. She credits God for that fully.
And yet, she continues to write. She counsels visitors at Norwich. She responds to the world around with her in faith and with compassion.
Having found her place in God’s world, Julian trusted that God’s vision for the world would be more complete, more full and more whole than what she could imagine or see in the present time.
She didn’t disregard the suffering she witnessed, or diminish the loss and grief of others, but she was confident in her belief that God would reign and that the powers and principalities that were delivering death and pain would be conquered.
That God would
see.
And all
manner of things shall be well.
Amen.