Lectionary 29C

Lucas 18:1-8

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Sean gratos los dichos de mi boca y las meditaciónes de nuestros corazónes delante de ti, oh Jehovah, Roca mía y Redentor mío. Amén. (Psalm 19:14 RVA)

La imagen de las viudas que tenemos de las historias infantiles, los cuentos populares e incluso las Escrituras es engañosa. A menudo se les describe como frágiles, débiles, sumisas o pacificadoras. A menudo, como La Llorana o como la viuda de Naín que está en Lucas 7, son vulnerables y lloronas.

Pero el evangelio de hoy pinta un retrato diferente.

Lo que sabemos de la mujer de la parábola o historia que cuenta Jesús es que es tenaz. Ella no se desanima.

Realmente no sabemos mucho más. Debido a que, en las Escrituras, Dios ordena el cuidado de la viuda, junto con los huérfanos y los peregrinos, estamos condicionados a pensar con caridad sobre esta mujer.

No sabemos las circunstancias del mal que experimentó. Usualmente asumimos que ella es justa y fiel. En mi propia imaginación, primero creo que puede ser como una viuda que una vez me contó que alguien la había llamado por teléfono diciendo que era su nieto y que necesitaba dinero. Después de una conversación, afortunadamente, se dio cuenta de que era un truco y terminó la llamada telefónica. Estoy agradecida de que no haya sido victimizada, pero era vulnerable porque no había nadie con ella para ayudarla a distinguir qué era verdad y qué era un truco.

En esta parábola, la viuda le pide al juez que haga algo más que corregir un mal. Mientras que nuestra traducción usa la palabra “justicia” para describir lo que quiere la viuda, la traducción griega es más precisa como “venganza”. Ella fue lastimada y quiere infligir un castigo a su oponente o adversario.

Y Lucas nos dice que el juez solo concede porque no quiere que lo molesten. Pero nuevamente, el griego usa un lenguaje más colorido, diciendo que no quiere un ojo morado. Nos queda preguntarnos si la viuda amenazó con darle un puñetazo en la cara o simplemente lo despreció.

Esto en cuanto a nuestra imagen de una anciana gentil de buen corazón que necesita nuestra protección y cuidado.

Sin embargo, a lo que podemos aferrarnos es a que esta mujer no se rindió. Ella no se dio por vencida. Sabía que el juez tenía poder para impartir la justicia que ella deseaba e insistió en que el juez hiciera lo que solo él podía hacer.

De esa manera, su historia me recuerda a los salmistas que claman a Dios diciéndole lo que saben sobre el carácter de Dios y pidiéndole que sea el Dios del que han sido testigos en la historia. Como en el Salmo 3 cuando el salmista dice:

³ Tú, oh SEÑOR, eres escudo a mi alrededor, mi gloria, y el que levanta mi cabeza.

Y entonces

⁷ ¡Levántate, oh SEÑOR! ¡Líbrame, oh Dios mío! Porque golpeas a todos mis enemigos en la mejilla; quebrantas los dientes de los impíos.

⁸ La liberación pertenece al SEÑOR

El escritor del evangelio Lucas dice que Jesús les cuenta esta historia a sus discípulos para enseñarles “a no desanimarse”. (v. 1) Han estado viajando hacia Jerusalén y él les ha estado enseñando sobre el Reino de Dios. Les ha hablado del sufrimiento y el rechazo que soportará. Pero todavía no entienden, y Jesús sabe que el tiempo se está acabando. Él sabe que necesitarán tener una fuerte confianza en la providencia de Dios, la presencia de Dios y la actividad de Dios en el mundo, cuando llegue la tragedia. ⁱ

Hoy, todos estos miles de años después, enfrentamos diferentes desafíos y decepciones, pero la lección sigue siendo la misma.

Cuando estamos enojados, heridos o desanimados, puede ser difícil ver más allá del dolor que estamos experimentando. Solo en las noticias de esta semana:

vemos familias que apenas comienzan a comprender cómo han cambiado sus vidas por los recientes huracanes;

vemos aumentar el rencor y la división a medida que se calienta una nueva temporada electoral.

y vemos que la violencia se intensifica nuevamente en Ucrania mientras la guerra continúa allí.

Sabemos que la vida es impredecible. Sabemos que no podemos determinar el resultado de los acontecimientos mundiales. Ni siquiera podemos controlar lo que sucede dentro de nuestras familias y comunidades.

Pero debido a que conocemos el carácter de Dios, esperamos en la presencia y actividad de Dios. Sabemos que Dios nos ama con un amor ilimitado y misericordioso.

Confiamos en que Dios llorará con nosotros y nos abrazará cuando estemos heridos. Sabemos que Dios es compasivo y fiel.

Y debido a que sabemos quién es Dios, tenemos confianza en que Dios obrará todas las cosas, especialmente las dolorosas y difíciles, para bien.

Oremos…

Dios bueno y misericordioso,

Te damos gracias por tu amor ilimitado por nosotros.

Continúa acercándonos a ti para que cuando estemos asustados, enojados o heridos, confiemos en que estás con nosotros.

Ayúdanos a no desanimarnos sino a tener confianza en tu bondad y misericordia.

Amén.

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Luke 18:1-8

The picture of widows that we have from children’s stories, folktales and even Scripture is misleading. They are often described as frail or weak or submissive or pacifying. Often, like La Llorana or like the widow of Nain who is in Luke 7, they are vulnerable and weepy.

But today’s gospel paints a different portrait.

What we know about the woman in the parable or story that Jesus tells is that she is tenacious. She does not lose heart.

We really don’t know much else. Because, in Scripture, God commands care for the widow, alongside orphans and sojourners, we are conditioned to think charitably about this woman.

We don’t know the circumstances of the wrong she experienced. We usually assume that she is righteous and faithful. In my own imagination, I first think she may be like a widow who once told me how she had been telephoned by someone saying he was her grandson and that he needed money. After some conversation, thankfully, she realized it was a trick and she ended the phone call.  I am grateful she wasn’t victimized, but she was vulnerable because there wasn’t anyone with her to help her sort out what was true and what was a trick.

In this parable, the widow is asking the judge to do more than only right a wrong. While our translation uses the word “justice” to describe what the widow wants, the Greek is more accurately translated as “vengeance.” She was hurt and wants to inflict punishment on her opponent or adversary.

And Luke tells us that the judge only concedes because he doesn’t want to be bothered. But again, the Greek uses more colorful language, saying he doesn’t want a black eye. We are left to wonder whether the widow threatened to punch him in the face or merely vilify him.

So much for our picture of a kind-hearted old gentle woman who needs our protection and care.

What we can hold onto though is that this woman didn’t surrender. She didn’t give up. She knew that the judge had power to deliver the justice she desired, and she insisted that the judge do what he alone could do.

In that way her story reminds me of the psalmists who cry out to God telling God what they know about God’s character and asking God to be the God they have witnessed in history. As in Psalm 3 when the psalmist says,

³ you, O LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head.

 And then

           ⁷ Rise up, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. ⁸ Deliverance belongs to the LORD

The gospel writer Luke says that Jesus tells this story to his disciples to teach them “not to lose heart.” (v. 1) They have been traveling toward Jerusalem and he has been teaching them about the Kingdom of God. He has told them about the suffering and rejection that he will endure. But they still do not understand, and Jesus knows time is drawing short. He knows they will need to have a strong confidence in God’s providence – God’s presence and God’s activity in the world – when tragedy comes.[i]

Today, all these thousands of years later, we face different challenges and disappointments, but the lesson remains the same.

When we are angry, hurt or discouraged, it can be difficult to see beyond the pain we are experiencing.  Just in the news this week:

we see families who are just beginning to understand how their lives have been changed by the recent hurricanes;

we see rancor and division increasing as a new election season heats up.

and we see the violence escalating again in Ukraine as war continues there.

We know that life is unpredictable. We know we cannot determine the outcome of world events. We cannot even control what happens within our families and communities.

But because we know God’s character, we hope in God’s presence and activity. We know God loves us with a boundless and merciful love.

We trust that God will weep with us and embrace us when we are hurt. We know God is compassionate and faithful.

And because we know who God is, we have confidence that God will work all things - especially the painful and hard - for good.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give you thanks for your boundless love for us.

Continue to draw us near to you so that when we are afraid or angry or hurt, we trust you are with us.

Help us not to lose heart but have confidence in your goodness and mercy.

Amen.

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[i] Feasting on the Word— Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year C) (p. 500). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Lectionary 26C

Luke 16:19-31

Especially after the difficulty of last week’s gospel in which a rich man commended his dishonest steward for his shrewdness, it is tempting to hear the story Jesus tells this week as either a straightforward parable of judgment or a morality tale about wealth and poverty.

The parable’s description of purple cloth and fine linen, the bosom of Abraham and the chasm separating Lazarus from the rich man is visually stimulating. We can imagine the scene, doubtlessly aided by art and literature that have illustrated the afterlife and the depths of Hades or hell.

One possible interpretation of the parable paints the rich man as, at best, obtuse and out of touch, or extravagantly self-absorbed and indulgent, and at worst cold-hearted and malicious, purposely ignoring the poverty and need on display at his gate. His lack of compassion condemns him.

Another possibility, especially when this text immediately is preceded by our first reading from Timothy that says,

the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from faith and pierced themselves with many pains” (1 Timothy 6:10)

is that this parable is a cautionary tale as we imagine how the rich man landed on the wrong side of the chasm, having excessively loved earthly comforts.

All of these interpretations usually also assume the poor man – the one called Lazarus – was virtuous. 

However, nothing in the gospel text tells us anything to support those assumptions. We know very little about either man - certainly nothing that allows us to measure their faith,

their piety

or their character.

So perhaps Luke – the only gospel writer who includes this particular parable - has Jesus tell this story for another reason.

Luke tells us that the rich man is tormented in death and when he sees Lazarus with Abraham, he asks them to intercede on his behalf and, when that fails, to go to his brothers so that they will not suffer the same fate.

Now the rich man isn’t especially likeable.

He doesn’t seem able to see Lazarus as anything other than as a servant or a slave – someone who’s there for his convenience and comfort.

He fails to understand either that Father Abraham is as much a father to Lazarus as to himself or that Lazarus is as much a brother as his own family.

He doesn’t recognize Lazarus’ own personhood.

But Abraham doesn’t refuse to comfort the rich man because he’s self-centered or entitled. Instead, he tells him,

“If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

Luke was writing some forty to fifty years after Jesus’ ministry took place and he was writing to believers. He knew first-hand the difficulties that the early church faced. He was writing after the deaths of apostles including Andrew and Peter and the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE. He was writing to reassure them and encourage them to remain faithful despite the challenges erupting around them.

Two thousand years later, how often do we forget to listen to the words from God that we have been given?

And how often do we fail to trust in the one who rose from the dead?

Jesus, in this parable and throughout his ministry, points us back to Scripture.

The rich man, and for that matter the Pharisees listening to Jesus tell this parable, would have known the Torah, the Hebrew scripture.

They would have known the five verses in Deuteronomy that form the Jewish prayer called the Shema, an affirmation of faith recited in the morning and evening that says:

⁴ Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone.  ⁵ You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.  

⁶ Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.  ⁷ Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.  

⁸ Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead,  ⁹ and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.[i]

And they would have recalled the prophet Isaiah who said:

² Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the LORD GOD is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation. ³ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. [ii]

And the prophet Jeremiah who declared:

⁷ Blessed are those who trust in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD.  ⁸ They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit. [iii]

They had been given all the words and promises they needed to hear. Nothing Lazarus or Jesus said at this point was going to make a difference.

The rich man had trusted in his wealth and the Pharisees had placed their trust in their own authority, distancing themselves farther and farther from God’s Word and commands.

This lack of relationship with God is what forms the uncrossable chasm that now separates the rich man from Abraham and deprives him of the living water that would comfort him.

 Throughout Scripture we equate water with life whether it is in the creation story where “a wind from God swept over the face of the waters”[iv], wellsprings of water in Bethlehem or Samaria, or the baptismal waters of the Jordan River.

 Water is an earthly sign of what God is doing among us.

Today we are celebrating the ways that water and the Word come together in the sacrament of baptism as we welcome our newest sister in Christ, Charlee, into our family of faith.

Calling baptism “a grace-filled water of life” and a “bath of the new birth in the Holy Spirit” Martin Luther reminds us that, water – the most ordinary of elements - is made holy when it is placed in the setting of God’s Word and command.[v] It is God’s gift and action for us and it is transformational.

Baptized in Christ and united with Him, it is life in Christ Jesus where we “may take hold of the life that really is life” (1 Timothy 6:19) instead of placing our hope and trust elsewhere. Trusting in God’s abundant love and mercy for us, we live out our faith every day, and when we face difficulty and need reassurance, we return to God’s promises to us and God’s gift of Jesus, the one who has risen from the dead, for us.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, Thank you for your Son Jesus who rose from the grave for us. Thank you for the gift of your Word written onto our hearts. Thank you for the new life we receive by your mercy and love. Help us by your Spirit to focus on you and trust in you and your promises.  We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

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[i] Deuteronomy 6:4-9

[ii] Isaiah 12:2-3

[iii] Jeremiah 17:7-8

[iv] Genesis 1:2

[v] “Small Catechism”, ELW, 1165.

Lectionary 22C

Luke 14:1, 7-14

I have really wrestled with our gospel text this week. Whether you have been a host or the guest at a function, I expect this text reads at first as if it were advice from Emily Post giving etiquette tips for hosting or attending a dinner party. I remember a colleague joked that these verses make the case for place cards at any social event.

But I am convinced that Scripture is more than a rule book or a set of instructions. Scripture is not a mere collection of morality tales or advice.

Scripture is a living Word, where God is always the actor.

The scene we enter with Jesus is a dinner party. Jesus has been invited by one of the religious leaders to come to the Sabbath dinner at his home.

You may remember that last week we heard a Sabbath story, too. When Jesus healed a woman who had been bent over for eighteen years, one of the religious leaders who witnessed the miracle scolded him for healing on the Sabbath.

It turns out that on this Sabbath, there’s a healing, too, that takes place in the verses our reading skips. Only this time, instead of berating Jesus, the onlookers are silent. No words of protest, shame or judgment are spoken to Jesus or the man he heals.

Luke tells us that the other guests at the dinner party were watching Jesus closely. We are left to wonder:

Were they watching to see what his manners were like?

Or were they watching to see if they could trick him or trap him?

Or is it possible they were curious and so they were leaning in, watching to see what he would say or teach next?

We don’t know but we shouldn’t assume that everyone there was antagonistic.

And evidently, Jesus was watching them, too, because watching how they chose their seats compelled him to tell them the parable, or story, that follows. Jesus boldly addresses the host and his guests.

Imagine being invited into someone else’s home and then changing the invitation list or correcting the guests’ behavior. It feels presumptuous at best.

But maybe that’s the point.

Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said that “Faith in God's revelation has nothing to do with an ideology which glorifies the status quo.”[i]

(pause)

In biblical times, at dinners like this one there would have been a central table and guests would have reclined in seats around it. Everyone would have known their place in the pecking order and if you presumed to take prime place then you could be asked to move down or farther from the center when a more honored guest arrived.

The story that Jesus tells illustrates a different kind of banquet and a different way of being together.

The banquet that Jesus describes isn’t about reciprocity or repayment.

Instead of seeing life as a series of transactions where you do something in order to earn a particular benefit or to win the favor of another person,

this banquet is first

a place of generosity, where we leave seats open for those who haven’t arrived.

It is a place of humility where we don’t think more of ourselves than others.

It is a place of kindness where we welcome those who typically would be excluded.

At this banquet we are all guests and God is the host.

God extends the invitation to us all and removes all the barriers for us to come and participate.

When we gather around the bread and wine,

we participate in God’s banquet for us all.

Whether we are poor in spirit,

or we don’t know how we will pay our bills;

whether we are paralyzed by pain and physical disability,

or by anxiety and depression;

whether we physically cannot move,

or we are immobilized by fear;

whether our eyesight is failing,

or we simply cannot see beyond our narrow view of the world,

God says to each one of us, I see you and love you and you are welcome at my table.

Lutheran pastor Delmer Chilton tells the story of going to a Holy Week breakfast at a big downtown church. It was a Chrism Mass where the clergy had been called together to renew their ordination vows and to eat together.  

Pastor Delmer describes how they drove in early, mostly from the suburban and rural outskirts, wearing their best Lutheran finery, black suits and black shirts and white collars and silver crosses. They vested in the chapel and filed into choir stalls in the chancel where the bishop preached and prayed and gave them communion and they prayed and received the elements with humble hands if not totally humble hearts.

After worship, they moved to the small dining room where they consumed a generous brunch of eggs and bacon and biscuits and cheese grits and sausage balls and fresh fruit and, and, and. . . .

They sat at oak tables covered with linen table cloths and ate off good china with silverware that appeared to have a significant amount of real silver in it. And they had a wonderful time together.

When it was time for Pastor Delmer to leave, he got turned around and lost, but eventually he went down a corridor and found himself in the street on the opposite side of the church from where he had expected and wanted to be.

The morning sun was shining brightly and it took him a moment to figure out where he was, and when he came to himself, he looked down the sidewalk in the direction he wanted to go and saw a long line of folks huddled on the dewy grass, trying to stay warm and dry while waiting for the food kitchen housed in the church’s basement to open.

Pastor Delmer writes that he felt very conspicuous walking along beside that row of folk, dressed in his best suit, carrying his white robe, a silver cross around his neck.

He spoke to a few folks as he walked past them to the corner. As he came to the street and turned to the left, he glanced back and then he looked up and to his right. And what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. From where he stood, he could see in the floor to ceiling, wall-to-wall windows of the small dining room. He could see the assembled holy people of the area Lutheran churches, smiling and talking; warm, dry, and well-fed. By simply shifting his eyes he could see a significant number of the area’s homeless population, cold, hungry, silent and appearing as alone in a group as they were by themselves.

And he wondered, “On this Tuesday in Holy Week, in this city, at this hour; which group would Jesus be eating with; the clergy or the homeless?”

He says that, really, he wondered, “Which group should I be eating with?”

Or better yet, “Shouldn’t all of us be down here eating with all of them?”[ii]

Our gospel is a Word worth struggling with. Participating in the heavenly feast or banquet isn’t just about Holy Communion. It is about sharing life together with God, with each other and with our neighbors. And, like Pastor Delmer, we should wonder about the people who aren’t at the table with us.

When we look at who’s missing, we may be surprised. It may be the person whose grief keeps them from returning to the pew where they worshiped with their spouse for years; or the person who feels like they have failed God or made a mistake they think is too big to be forgiven. It may be the person who has suffered a tragedy and feels abandoned by God. But it may also be people who are working on Sunday mornings or don’t have transportation or don’t know whether their identity, appearance, clothes or language will mean they are not welcomed.

Jesus tells us again and again that it’s God’s invitation and table and all are welcome here. Come, eat and drink and know God’s abundant forgiveness and love for you.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give thanks for your boundless love.

We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who challenges us to see the world and our neighbors as you see them.

Give us confidence that your invitation to the banquet includes everyone

and by your Spirit, help us respond with generosity, humility and kindness.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

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[i] William D. Blake. An Almanac of the Christian Church.

[ii] Chilton, Delmer. The Gospel According to Aunt Mildred: Stories of Family and Faith (p. 69). Brasstown Publishing. Kindle Edition.

 

Lectionary 17C

Luke 11:1-13

The writer of Ecclesiastes knew, “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.” (1:9)

The question of how to pray has been on our lips since Jesus was in Galilee with his disciples, if not longer.

We looked at some of the different forms of prayer during our Lenten worship earlier this year but there are many ways to pray. With words or in silence. For our needs and those of the world around us. For healing and reconciliation. You can pray with your whole body by kneeling or walking a labyrinth or lifting your arms. And the promise we have is that God hears our prayers no matter what form they take.

But in today’s gospel, the disciples come to Jesus and ask him to teach them to pray in the same way that John had taught his disciples. Their question assumes there is a particular form that is “correct” and in the verses that follow their question, Jesus offers them the outline of a prayer that we recognize as Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. In his gospel, Matthew records a longer version that is closer to what we say in our worship and his words are what Martin Luther writes and teaches about in his catechism.

There are probably more questions about prayer than answers. Some would ask, why do we even need to pray?

Luther said we ought to pray as Jesus and the apostles did and recommended praying the Lord’s Prayer both in morning and evening prayer. We pray because God commands us to pray, and we pray with confidence that God hears us because that’s what we’re told again and again in Scripture.

Others would wonder whether God has selective hearing, addressing some prayers and not others, or even whether God cares. Especially when prayers appear to go unanswered or when we witness suffering in the world around us. I cannot explain why there are prayers that appear to go unanswered. I do believe that the power of prayer is not in our hands or our character but in God’s. We are not the key that makes prayer “work”; God is.[i]

Because of our lived experiences and disappointments, it is tempting to roll our eyes or express skepticism at the promises that Jesus makes to the disciples in verse 9 — “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” But Luther wrote that promises like these “ought to awaken and kindle in our hearts a longing and love for prayer.”[ii] Luther wants us to remember who God is and what God promises.

In our gospel text this morning, “Jesus doesn’t stop at teaching a new set of words, he suggests a new attitude altogether.” [iii]

It is an attitude of expectation and boldness that comes from understanding the power of prayer to accomplish real change.[iv] It comes from our belief that the God whom we worship is personal and is moving and active in our lives and in the world.

When we pray this way, we can’t get away with praying without thinking or reflection. Our words can’t be mere rote repetition. Our prayers reflect our belief that even though we live in a world that is constantly threatened by evil, we are loved by a God who promises to preserve us from it.

We have this particular prayer because God so desires to draw us near that we would think about God and talk to God about what is on our hearts, and allow God to respond to us.[v] God desires this so much that God gives us these words and puts them in our mouths.[vi]

And with these words and the very short parable he tells afterward, Jesus reminds us exactly who God is. That God hears us and provides for us. God forgives us and protects us. And finally, that God is more generous than we ourselves would ever be.

Often when Jesus tells stories or parables, our instinct is to try to figure out who each character represents. And I’ve read this parable and tried to make God the one knocking or the one being woken, but this time, reading it just as it’s written, I think that Jesus knows that, in our humanity, we might ignore the knock on the door or only grudgingly answer and provide assistance to the neighbor in need. But instead of suggesting that God is like either one of these two characters, I think Jesus is saying that God responds to us in an entirely different way because of God’s love for us.

Jesus is teaching us that our prayer is grounded in God’s character, not ours.

Jesus teaches us to pray, “Your kingdom come”, and in his Small Catechism, Luther writes that “God’s kingdom comes on its own without our prayer, but we ask in this prayer that it may also come to us”, that God would give us the Holy Spirit to strengthen us in faith.[vii] It’s a risky prayer because we are asking God to align us with God’s desire for the world. We are asking God to change us and the world around us in big ways, to transform us into the people we have been created to be.

Created in God’s image, we are praying that our actions will reflect God’s goodness and generosity, God’s compassion and love. And that through the Word and the power of the Holy Spirit, God will destroy the devil and all the forces that defy God, the powers of this world that rebel against God, and the ways of sin that draw us from God. That is bold expectation!

So as we follow Jesus into the world this week, I challenge you to pray specifically and boldly, with confidence in God’s love and in expectation of God’s power. Amen.

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[i] Brian Peterson, Working Preacher. Luther Seminary.

[ii] Martin Luther. “Large Catechism.” Book of Concord. 443:20.

[iii] “Pray as You Go”, July 24, 2022. https://pray-as-you-go.org/player/2022-07-24, accessed 7/23/2022.

[iv] R. Guy Erwin (Author), Mary Jane Haemig (Author), Ken Sundet Jones (Author), Martin J. Lorhmann (Author), Derek R. Nelson (Author). By Heart. 105-106.

[v] Mark Allan Powell. Loving Jesus. 141-145.

[vi] Luther. 443:22.

[vii] Martin Luther. “Small Catechism.” Book of Concord. 356-7.

Lectionary 16C

Luke 10:38-42

The well-known story we hear in today’s gospel often sets one sister against the other: the older, dutiful and responsible doer against the younger and oblivious slacker.

In some ways it’s not a new story. After all, there are other sibling rivalries in Scripture:

Adam and Eve’s firstborn son Cain murdered his brother Abel out of jealousy;

Isaac and Rebekah’s son Jacob bought his older brother Esau’s birthright from him and then tricked their father into giving him the blessing that rightfully belonged to Esau.

Jacob’s sons threw their younger brother Joseph into a pit and left him for dead, only discovering that he hadn’t died when, afflicted by famine, they traveled to Egypt for help.

In Mark’s gospel, James and John vie for seats on Jesus’ right and his left, and, in Matthew, Jesus’ own siblings question his role. But perhaps one of the closest parallels we have to today’s gospel is the story of the prodigal father where the older brother thinks his bitter fulfillment of his responsibilities is a better response than his younger brother’s flagrant wastefulness and recklessness.

In each of these pairings, Scripture gives us a negative example, showing us how not to act or respond - with jealousy, envy, deceit, pride or resentment.

Clearly, Martha is resentful of her sister. Maybe it’s because Mary has left all the labor to Martha, but maybe it’s because Mary has chosen to act differently and defied the cultural norms of their day by sitting at the feet of their rabbi. I’m reminded that when something gets under my skin, it’s often because I am afraid; my sense of security, control or worth feels threatened. We can only guess at what’s going on in Martha that she feels so vulnerable.

When she questions Jesus and asks him to admonish her sister Mary, Jesus refuses, and instead he tells Martha, “You are putting yourself into an uproar”. I don’t like that his response sounds dismissive of her feelings, but it does redirect her away from shaming her sister and pushes her to look at what truly has her so upset.

But there’s more to this story than sibling rivalry.

And there’s more to it than choosing whether to be an active doer or to be a reflective listener. Following Jesus means being both. As the late theologian and preacher Fred Craddock wrote, “Knowing which and when is a matter of spiritual discernment.”[i]

What catches my attention is how Martha’s preoccupation with her tasks or plans keeps her from spending time with Jesus and sitting at his feet.

German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that doing independent from hearing the Word fails; “one thing is needful: not to hear or to do, but to do both in one, …to be and continue in unity with Jesus Christ.”[ii]

Luke says Martha welcomed Jesus into her home and then she got distracted by her many tasks.

In choosing to focus on her busy work, Martha disconnects and moves away from Jesus:

from relationship;

from resting in God’s presence;

from receiving God’s Word;

from soaking in God’s love.

In choosing to focus on her tasks and what she thought was needed, Martha disregards the extraordinary opportunity of meeting Jesus face to face and spending time with Him.

Watching Martha, I reflect on how easily I am distracted and pulled away from spending time with God. Not by the justifiable distraction of necessary work, but by mere inattention, from barking dogs or the chime of a text message or the intrusion of a random thought that leads down a rabbit hole.

It’s so easy to give importance to what is immediate, apparent and visible and discount the spiritual things. As C.S. Lewis wrote in Screwtape Letters, “the safest road to Hell is the gradual one — the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.” [iii]

But Jesus offers us another way. When he refuses to rebuke Mary for her devotion, he reorients Martha’s attention to what is needed:

to be in relationship with Him,

to sit at His feet and rest in His presence,

to hear His Word,

and to be loved by Him.

And all of this is possible not because of our own efforts or merits, but because God loves us and extends grace to us.

It’s not a matter of being in the right place at the right time or choosing well. It’s about recognizing we are already in God’s presence and freeing ourselves to experience God’s grace for us right where we are. It’s about drawing near to God and soaking in God’s love for us.

If Mary’s posture still feels self-indulgent, consider that Luther says that faith comes by hearing the Word of God. [This] Word is the basis

of the assurance of faith,

of newness of life,

of belonging to Christ and his history, which means belonging to the new world of God, to God’s kingdom….[iv]

Systematic theologian Oswald Bayer writes,

The moment we turn aside and look back at ourselves and our own doing instead of at God and God’s promise, at that moment we are again left with ourselves and with our own judgment about ourselves [and we become entangled in ourselves.][v]

In other words, when we become distracted and turn away from God, we turn in on ourselves, which is Luther’s very definition of sin.

The better part that Mary chooses is understanding that sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening to His Word and teaching, is exactly where a disciple belongs.

This past week was Music Week at Lutheridge. My younger daughter was a music week camper from third grade all through high school, and then I went to camp with confirmation students, so it holds a special place in our hearts. Camp is a place where it’s easy to sit in God’s presence, to hear God’s Word and to soak in God’s love. But most of us can’t spend our lives at camp. We have to choose more carefully to spend time with God.

Today’s gospel reminds us that the God who created us, knows us and loves us waits for us to turn away from the distractions and rest in the holy and divine that awaits.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, Thank you for your Son Jesus whose presence with us shows us your love for us. When we are distracted, turn us again to You, that we would soak in your love for us and live in the grace you have already given us. Strengthen our faith by the hearing of your Word. We pray in the name of your Son Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

---

[i] Fred B. Craddock. Luke. 152.

[ii] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics. 46-47.

[iii] C.S. Lewis Screwtape Letters, 56.

[iv] Oswald Bayer. Living by Faith: Justification and Sanctification. 43.

[v] ibid, 44.

Lectionary 13C

Luke 9:51-62

On Tuesday, Jamie and I are scheduled to close on the purchase of a house in Mills River. And in August our youngest daughter will move from her room off campus back into her sorority house for her last semester at Western Carolina. And then in September our oldest daughter will move to a different Boston apartment. For all of us, this summer is focused on figuring out where to make our homes and what those places will look like.

The first things I think of when I think about “home” are comfort and belonging, so it’s hard for me to hear Jesus’ words in today’s gospel. His words, and his home-less-ness, make me uncomfortable.

Our reading is at the beginning of the travel narrative that will consume the next ten chapters of Luke’s gospel. Jesus has told his followers what to expect from their adversaries and he has set his face toward Jerusalem, fully knowing that the costly journey will bring hardship, rejection and death.

Speaking to followers along the way, Jesus admonishes them that he has no place to call home. He tells one, “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head…” Apparently, following Jesus isn’t about finding a home with comfort and belonging. Instead of homesteaders or even pilgrims, followers of Jesus are more like nomads.

Homesteading is characterized by self-sufficiency - growing vegetables and raising livestock for food, canning and preserving, using alternative energy and relying less on those around you. You stake your place and stay there.

Pilgrimages are journeys that have a particular destination. The journey follows well-traveled routes that have been followed over centuries. Pilgrims walk in the footsteps of history.

But nomads don’t’ claim a particular place for any length of time. They travel to different places according to their needs. They carry their belongings with them. They construct temporary shelter and move with the tides and winds, temperatures and time. They have their own languages, cultures and traditions. They find their belonging in their community.

So, while Jesus’ words aren’t warm and fuzzy, maybe that’s the point. Jesus never says that having a home or tending to parents or family are bad. What he says is that nothing can come before God and God’s kingdom. Before any other identity we may have, we are God’s people and our home is in God.

The grace in Jesus’ words here may not be as obvious as it sometimes is, but grace is there.

Grace is there

in the in-between places when we aren’t sure where we’ll find rest and there’s uncertainty as plans are changing and developing;

in knowing that we can step away from the swirl of grief when it feels like a tether, tying us down;

in hearing that all the responsibility isn’t ours alone; we can rely on others to tend to the needs we see in the world, too;

in recognizing that we don’t have to have everything buttoned up and all the problems of the world solved in order to be faithful.

What a relief!

We make our home in God’s grace and love for us.

Knowing God’s goodness, we can believe that God will help us care for the people and things around us too. Because God loves us, we can have confidence that God cares about those whom we love too. Because God clothes the lilies of the field, we can be assured that God will tend to our needs too.

There is freedom in trusting that God’s goodness is enough. Unburdened, we are free to respond to God’s presence and loving action in the world. Leaving behind what is dead or past, we are free to look for what is alive and focus on what is ahead.

Life takes on a new shape when our self-sufficiency becomes God-dependency, our footsteps are ordered by God and our comfort and belonging are found in God.

This cross-shaped life can be disorderly, chaotic and turbulent. The movie “Blue Miracle” tells the story of a couple in Cabo San Lucas who run an orphanage there. They were caring for about two dozen boys who had come off the city streets. They found themselves in crisis, living in a building that needed repairs they couldn’t make and owing the bank payments they couldn’t afford. But as the story unfolds, you see them choose the good at each turn. There were opportunities to solve their problems by making other faster, easier but illegal or unethical choices, but they didn’t make those choices. Instead, they chose to continue to take the next faithful step and to look for what was good and hopeful.

I think that’s what following Jesus looks like – taking the next faithful step and waiting on God to see what happens. 

I believe that’s where we are at Grace too, as the call committee continues its work interviewing candidates to find the next senior pastor and we are involved in the life and ministries of the congregation. We are witnessing what God is doing in the lives of our children and youth through VBS, camps and service learning, and in the lives of our siblings in Christ in Durango Mexico as our team serves there this week. We glimpse God in the many ways we care for each other, learn celebrate and worship together.

The challenge we have from this week’s gospel is to notice the things that keep us from following Jesus fully and freely - attachments, responsibilities, fears. And the invitation is to talk with God about those things, trusting in God’s grace and goodness.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who makes hard journeys with us, guiding us and staying with us.

Help us surrender to a life of following Jesus and finding our home in you.

Take away our fears and our “shoulds” and “musts” so that we can take the next faithful step with you, wherever it leads.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Trinity Sunday

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

Psalm 8

So, I have a question for you this morning: What do a three-leaf clover, an ice cube and the sun all have in common?

They all fall short as ways of explaining the Holy Trinity – the doctrine that says that God is three distinct persons in One. All three of these analogies stumble into a heresy –a belief that’s contrary to Christian tradition – known as modalism that says God exists in different forms or modes but isn’t actually three distinct persons. If you insist on having an explanation, the best one I have come across says that “the Bible says that when it comes to God, 1 + 1+ 1 = 1.”[i] Of course, in the math we learn in school, that doesn’t work either.

And maybe that’s the best way to answer questions about the Trinity - to name that it is beyond our comprehension, rationale or logic. God doesn’t follow any of our careful plans or fit into neat boxes or formulas that add up. In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” (16:12) There simply are truths about God and God’s actions that we cannot understand.

What Scripture provides isn’t answers or explanations, but inspiration, that helps us know who God is and who we are as God’s people.

Before I ever went to seminary, I went on a women’s retreat with my home congregation, and I remember the Bible studies throughout the retreat looked at passages that offered language for God that was different than Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Some of the participants were uncomfortable with Matthew’s image of God as a mothering hen (Matthew 23) or Isaiah’s illustration of God as a laboring mother (Isaiah 42). Imagining God - when God is beyond our understanding - is challenging.

Being attentive to the language we use for God isn’t about replacing or dismissing traditional language. Instead, the many scriptural images for God help us expand our understanding of who God is. Liturgical scholar and author Gail Ramshaw describes the images in Scripture as treasures, writing that

some of the treasure is old and some new. Treasure that is old is often of more value than that which is new, just as old images might be layered with more meaning for the self and the community than new images. [If we] think that only old treasures are valuable [we] forget that God's Spirit continues each week to offer our world signs of divine mercy.[ii]

The different words to describe God can feel strange in our mouths, but for the person who has suffered abuse by an earthly parent or bullying in school, finding God as a fortress and avenger in the Psalms or as a refuge in Jeremiah may bring comfort. For anyone who is awed by the beauty of our natural world, seeing God as a dove and an eagle in Mark and Deuteronomy or as rain and thunder in Hosea and Exodus helps us connect with our Creator God.

Today’s reading from Proverbs 8 invites us to expand our understanding of God to include Woman Wisdom. In Scripture, the feminine Sophia or wisdom can refer to the Holy Spirit and, in these verses, we hear her testify that she was there “at the beginning of God’s creating work.” (v. 22) As God’s companion, she was there “at the first, before the beginning of the earth.” (v. 23)

Some hear this text echoed in the prologue of John’s gospel where the Evangelist John says, “¹ In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ²

He was in the beginning with God.”

The Trinity is Father, Son and Holy Spirit and
the Trinity is God, Jesus and Wisdom.

In these verses, Woman Wisdom calls out “to all that live” as she retells the creation story and how she rejoiced with God and delighted in the inhabited world and in the human race. (8:30-31) The Hebrew verb there is not “rejoice” but “play” so Old Testament scholar Robert Altar translates verses 30 and 31 as

I was His delight day after day, playing before Him at all times, playing in the world, His earth, and my delight with humankind.[iii]

Author David Weiss has written a version of the creation story where he pictures the Creator giggling as She imagines all the things she will make, and humming as She scoops up the “softest, nicest-smelling Earth,” and makes “Humus Beings.” The delight and joy is contagious.

And the object of this divine delight is us. We delight God.

Let me say that again. You and I delight God.

In a world that measures success by productivity, it’s easy to forget that play, delight and joy are all part of a well-ordered world, but they are.

And in our modern world filled with division, cynicism and conflict, it’s easy to lose sight of one another as beings in whom God delights, but we are.

Psalm 8 continues this theme of divine joy and delight.

The psalmist asks, in verse 4, “What are mere mortals that you should be mindful of them, human beings that you should care for them?”

The psalm assures us that God knows and remembers each one of us, “[making us] little less than divine” [crowned with glory and honor].” (verse 5)

And then it acknowledges how God has entrusted us with care for each other and all the works of God’s hands.

The same God who delights in us invites us
to care for the awesome creation we enjoy,
to see God’s majesty in it, and
to find joy and delight in that trust and care.

May our lives honor God’s invitation into life together, and may we find joy and delight in it.

Let us pray.

Holy God,

In the beginning, You were there, and the Word was there, and Wisdom was there.

And from the beginning you delighted in humankind and have shown us your majesty and your mercy.

Open our ears and our hearts to hear You call to us and to respond to your Word and Spirit, Your Son and Wisdom.

Amen.

[i] Tim Beilharz. “Why analogies of the Trinity fail.” Youthworks. https://youthworks.net/articles/analogies-of-the-trinity, accessed June 10, 2022.

[ii] Gail Ramshaw. Treasures Old and New. Kindle Edition. 36.

[iii] Robert Altar. The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary. 379-380.