Luke 18: 1-8, page 742
Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.
He said: In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared about people. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘grant me justice against my adversary.’
For some time he refused, but finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care about people, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!’
And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for the chosen ones, who cry out day and night? Will God keep putting them off? I tell you, God will see that they get justice and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?’
Sermon
I’ve told you before that I used to work lawn maintenance for a company downtown. That I had a college degree didn’t really mean anything, but that I could speak English and had a driver’s license did and I was on my way up the ladder as far as lawn maintenance was concerned. Unfortunately though, I still had to pay my dues, and that meant being trained by Loco Lee.
Loco Lee, that’s what the Hispanic guys called him behind his back, and he was just that. Like me, he could speak English, had a driver’s license, and even a college degree from the Citadel of all places, but unlike me, he was crazy.
He would get mad and fly off the handle over the smallest things. His leaf blower wouldn’t start, so he’d throw it into the street. The truck’s transmission fell out, so he walked around it kicking and cussing it for a solid 15 minutes while I tried to keep the customers from seeing.
That kind of behavior shocked me, and certainly shocked poor Jorge who couldn’t understand what Lee was saying but knew it was bad. But what really made me afraid of Lee was the stuff he’d say while he was perfectly calm.
He lived in one of those pay by the week hotels, just like the ones on the other side of 78 from us, and while he had a driver’s license he didn’t have a car. One day I was giving him a ride home and he said to me, out of no-where: “You shouldn’t brush your teeth Joe. It’s a losing battle.”
“What do you mean Lee?” I asked.
“Our life spans are now longer than our teeth were built to last. Your teeth will make it, 40, 50 years max. Then they’ll just fall out. I don’t see any reason to fight it. I’m just going to let them go. I’ll have to get them all replaced anyway, why not give up now?”
Lee taught me a lot of things about lawn maintenance, but you’ll be relieved to know I haven’t taken any of his advice on dental hygiene.
Some people think this way though – knowing what the end will be, resistance seems futile. Fighting against tooth decay will eventually end in tooth loss sooner or later – you can’t win so why not quit now.
But that’s like saying – I’m eventually going to die – why should I fight it.
And that’s true. We are, all of us, going to die eventually. But life is in the resistance to this truth – and I refuse to give up any earlier than I have to.
Our scripture lesson begins: “Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.” To make any sense out of this introduction we have to deal with what came before it – we have to know why it was that the disciples were even thinking of giving up.
In the verses leading up to our scripture lesson for today is a section titled by your pew Bibles as: “the coming of the kingdom of God.” Our lesson, verses 1 through 8 of chapter 18 may well end the section titled “the coming of the kingdom of God” considering verse 8: “However, when the son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
Jesus had been talking to them about what the end – the end of all things – was going to be like. As anyone who believes that the end is imminent, they were tempted to hole up in a cave with as many gold bars and canned goods as they could find until whatever was going to happen happened.
This kind of knowledge, knowledge about the end, is dangerous then – because faith isn’t just about waiting and watching, sitting back while God does what God is going to do. While faith is certainly about trusting that at the end of all things God is there, for sure, but it’s also about what we do in the meantime.
So “Jesus told them a parable to show them that they should always pray and never give up.”
In this parable there is a widow with no help in the world. Her husband is gone, no children are mentioned, and she goes appealing to a faithless judge who might at least be shamed into feeling sorry for her, but this judge doesn’t even care what anyone thinks of him.
Just the same, she goes to this judge while he’s walking from the golf course to dinner. She hassles him as he walks from his house to his girlfriend’s house (I’m filing in between the lines a little bit). She finds him wherever he hides, she’s on the steps at his office waiting as he pulls up – there’s no escaping her so appeasing her becomes easier than trying to ignore her.
This is what faith looks like according to Christ. This widow is who we are to emulate.
While we know that the end is coming, while we know where we will be and what will happen when it does, we aren’t to sit back and wait, but are called to go on harassing the judges of this earth – demanding from them justice.
Justice will certainly come when the Son of Man returns – but the faithful will not be lazily waiting for his arrival. The faithful will be busy doing the work of the kingdom.
This parable is certainly an important one – not just because it assures us that the unjust judges of our world – the faithless hierarchies of power, the bureaucracies and systems that care nothing for you or I – they’re days are numbered.
But this parable is even more important, because in addition to letting us know how the great cosmic story will end – we are instructed on how we are to conduct ourselves until he comes.
Knowing that Christ is coming is no reason to stop pursuing justice, just as knowing that your teeth are eventually going to fall out is no reason to put off dental hygiene.
In this time in between right now and the end – we are called to go on praying, go on fighting for justice – as there is life to be lived between now and then.
Ours is the time of widows who demand justice – and like the wives, girlfriends, and children camped out on top of the mine in Chile – we have no excuse for packing up and heading home. They all could have so easily rushed to the end. How many must have considered them widows already, but they refused to give in to the end though they knew in whom those miner’s fates rested. Rather than give into death, like widows at the door of a faithless judge they were relentless in their pursuit for justice, relentless in their belief that those miners were worth saving.
So many would have let a collapsed mind end the story – and trusted those minors fates’ to God – but like a widow demanding justice those women persisted.
One of the greatest works of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas, was written for his dying father. I’ll share this poem with you now:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
We Christians know how all of this is going to end – if our faith is sure than we are given the gift of easy sleep, trusting our destiny to the Son of Man, the one who was with us in the beginning and will be with us in the end. But such knowledge leaves us no excuse for not living today. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Amen.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Thank You
Luke 17: 11-19, page 741
Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee.
As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”
When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.
One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him – and he was a Samaritan.
Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”
Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”
Sermon
I’ve been thinking about Bobby Cox a lot lately. I’m not just glad that the Braves made it to the play-offs in his last season as Head Coach, I’m thankful.
I don’t admire sports heroes as much as some, but I do Bobby because I remember what Braves baseball was like before he showed up.
Walking away from games with my head held low – embarrassed to wear a Braves hat outside the metro-Atlanta area – not just because it was baby blue either – because they were awful!
In reflecting on his career, some have said, “He should have coached the Braves to more World Series victories,” and it’s possible to say that – but only if you have no conception of where we were before Bobby Cox showed up.
Sure – Dale Murphy was great – but the Braves were bad. As folks think about Bobby Cox they need to remember that; you’ve got to remember where you were compared to where you are – if you don’t you might forget to say thank you to someone who deserves it.
Our lesson for today is hard to understand – you immediately wonder why only one came back to say “thank you.”
Maybe he was the only one raised right – but plenty of people are raised right and still, plenty of people don’t say thank you when they should.
I think about my tax dollars. A gift, if you will, to our banks. A safety net, a bail-out, a big, big gift from you and I to virtually every bank in this country to save them from their own bad management.
But I haven’t received a thank you note. Have you?
You could make the case it was a forced gift – but then my joke doesn’t work.
It surprises me how quickly people forget. Or maybe it’s not forgetfulness at all. Maybe it’s something else.
Maybe the nine who didn’t go back to thank Jesus were just too excited; maybe they were so excited they couldn’t wait to go to the priest, be approved as clean according to his judgment by the law, and then, finally allowed to return to his family after being forced to live on the outskirts for who knows how long, quarantined for the good of his own family and friends, couldn’t wait a single second to get home.
Or maybe there’s more to it than that.
It’s hard to admit that we need help. And it’s even harder to say thank you when we’ve received something we couldn’t provide for ourselves, something we are embarrassed that we couldn’t provide for ourselves.
Sometimes out of desperation we call out for help, and as soon as we receive the help we so desperately needed we forget how bad off we were before the help came.
There was a great storm one night, and John Newton was on a slave ship, not below decks as a slave, but a willing participant and beneficiary of the slave trade. The night was so dark and the storm so severe that though he had made it through storms before he was afraid, and though he had grown up with no particular religious convictions, he called out to God for help.
There’s nothing so unique about that.
I think we’ve all been there before, maybe not in the midst of a storm on the sea, but certainly a storm of the soul. I’ve certainly been afraid before, and in my fear have more than once called out to God for help much the way the lepers in our lesson do.
But upon deliverance, once the storm has subsided, something happens in remembering. The fear, once so severe doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Without the wind and the rain to remind us – life goes back to normal – the illusion that we are in control and can save ourselves re-establishes itself so quickly.
Maybe that’s just how our memories work – our successes get bigger and bigger like old fishing stories, but the terror of the dark nights when we need saving fades.
It’s important then to know that for John Newton, the dark night never escaped his memory, and that storm on the sea became the inspiration for one of our faith’s most beloved hymns, Amazing Grace.
Our temptation so often is to just get on with our lives, forget how bad it was, go on home and back to life as normal, leave the leprosy behind, not even taking the time to say “thank you” because in saying “thank you” I have to be reminded of how bad things were.
In this story from Luke’s Gospel Jesus represents salvation – salvation from a state that those 9 never wanted to be reminded of again.
They didn’t want to think about their leprosy.
They didn’t want to think about their days of living on the outskirts of town shunned by friends and family.
They didn’t want to go back into that shack where they were reduced to a community made up of those whom society could do without.
They didn’t want to acknowledge what they needed Christ to save them from, so they went on with their lives.
But for the one – for the one who remembered – Christ was more - Christ was savior.
When we come to terms with who we were – when we don’t forget what we needed – Christ becomes more – for those in radical need of saving find in Christ a radical savior.
To be truly thankful that you’ve been found – you’ve got to come to terms with the fact that you were lost.
You want to know the sweet sound of God’s Amazing Grace – you can’t forget that you were once a wretch who needed saving.
You want your fears relieved – you’ve got to know your fear.
You want to see – then admit that you were blind.
You want to be saved – then come to terms with the fact that you need saving and you can’t do it yourself.
There’s strength in that surrender.
And there’s no shame in it – because who you are – who you were – what came before – is the foundation for your salvation.
To have a savior – you’ve got to know you need one – thanks be to God, Christ is ours.
Amen.
Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee.
As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”
When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.
One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him – and he was a Samaritan.
Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”
Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”
Sermon
I’ve been thinking about Bobby Cox a lot lately. I’m not just glad that the Braves made it to the play-offs in his last season as Head Coach, I’m thankful.
I don’t admire sports heroes as much as some, but I do Bobby because I remember what Braves baseball was like before he showed up.
Walking away from games with my head held low – embarrassed to wear a Braves hat outside the metro-Atlanta area – not just because it was baby blue either – because they were awful!
In reflecting on his career, some have said, “He should have coached the Braves to more World Series victories,” and it’s possible to say that – but only if you have no conception of where we were before Bobby Cox showed up.
Sure – Dale Murphy was great – but the Braves were bad. As folks think about Bobby Cox they need to remember that; you’ve got to remember where you were compared to where you are – if you don’t you might forget to say thank you to someone who deserves it.
Our lesson for today is hard to understand – you immediately wonder why only one came back to say “thank you.”
Maybe he was the only one raised right – but plenty of people are raised right and still, plenty of people don’t say thank you when they should.
I think about my tax dollars. A gift, if you will, to our banks. A safety net, a bail-out, a big, big gift from you and I to virtually every bank in this country to save them from their own bad management.
But I haven’t received a thank you note. Have you?
You could make the case it was a forced gift – but then my joke doesn’t work.
It surprises me how quickly people forget. Or maybe it’s not forgetfulness at all. Maybe it’s something else.
Maybe the nine who didn’t go back to thank Jesus were just too excited; maybe they were so excited they couldn’t wait to go to the priest, be approved as clean according to his judgment by the law, and then, finally allowed to return to his family after being forced to live on the outskirts for who knows how long, quarantined for the good of his own family and friends, couldn’t wait a single second to get home.
Or maybe there’s more to it than that.
It’s hard to admit that we need help. And it’s even harder to say thank you when we’ve received something we couldn’t provide for ourselves, something we are embarrassed that we couldn’t provide for ourselves.
Sometimes out of desperation we call out for help, and as soon as we receive the help we so desperately needed we forget how bad off we were before the help came.
There was a great storm one night, and John Newton was on a slave ship, not below decks as a slave, but a willing participant and beneficiary of the slave trade. The night was so dark and the storm so severe that though he had made it through storms before he was afraid, and though he had grown up with no particular religious convictions, he called out to God for help.
There’s nothing so unique about that.
I think we’ve all been there before, maybe not in the midst of a storm on the sea, but certainly a storm of the soul. I’ve certainly been afraid before, and in my fear have more than once called out to God for help much the way the lepers in our lesson do.
But upon deliverance, once the storm has subsided, something happens in remembering. The fear, once so severe doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Without the wind and the rain to remind us – life goes back to normal – the illusion that we are in control and can save ourselves re-establishes itself so quickly.
Maybe that’s just how our memories work – our successes get bigger and bigger like old fishing stories, but the terror of the dark nights when we need saving fades.
It’s important then to know that for John Newton, the dark night never escaped his memory, and that storm on the sea became the inspiration for one of our faith’s most beloved hymns, Amazing Grace.
Our temptation so often is to just get on with our lives, forget how bad it was, go on home and back to life as normal, leave the leprosy behind, not even taking the time to say “thank you” because in saying “thank you” I have to be reminded of how bad things were.
In this story from Luke’s Gospel Jesus represents salvation – salvation from a state that those 9 never wanted to be reminded of again.
They didn’t want to think about their leprosy.
They didn’t want to think about their days of living on the outskirts of town shunned by friends and family.
They didn’t want to go back into that shack where they were reduced to a community made up of those whom society could do without.
They didn’t want to acknowledge what they needed Christ to save them from, so they went on with their lives.
But for the one – for the one who remembered – Christ was more - Christ was savior.
When we come to terms with who we were – when we don’t forget what we needed – Christ becomes more – for those in radical need of saving find in Christ a radical savior.
To be truly thankful that you’ve been found – you’ve got to come to terms with the fact that you were lost.
You want to know the sweet sound of God’s Amazing Grace – you can’t forget that you were once a wretch who needed saving.
You want your fears relieved – you’ve got to know your fear.
You want to see – then admit that you were blind.
You want to be saved – then come to terms with the fact that you need saving and you can’t do it yourself.
There’s strength in that surrender.
And there’s no shame in it – because who you are – who you were – what came before – is the foundation for your salvation.
To have a savior – you’ve got to know you need one – thanks be to God, Christ is ours.
Amen.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
At This Table
Lamentations 1: 1-6, page 581
How deserted lies the city, once so full of people!
How like a widow is she, who once was great among the nations!
She who was queen among the provinces has now become a slave.
Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are upon her cheeks.
Among all her lovers there is none to comfort her.
All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies.
After affliction and harsh labor, Judah has gone into exile.
She dwells among the nations; she finds no resting place.
All who pursue her have overtaken her in the midst of her distress.
The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to her appointed feasts.
All her gateways are desolate, her priests groan, her maidens grieve, and she is in bitter anguish.
Her foes have become her masters; her enemies are at ease.
The Lord has brought her grief because of her many sins.
Her children have gone into exile, captive before the foe.
All the splendor has departed from the Daughter of Zion.
Her princes are like deer that find no pasture; in weakness they have fled before the pursuer.
Sermon
October is pastor appreciation month, and even though I am one, I don’t think this is a very good time to be appreciating pastors to be quite honest.
The Pope has continued to receive harsh criticism for not confronting the evil of child abuses by clergy, and for maybe even knowingly ignoring the plight of the victims, maybe even turning a deaf ear to their cries for justice.
October is also a month when we will be giving extra attention to the Bishop Eddie Long who stood in the pulpit last Sunday morning, “looked out over the thousands assembled to hear him speak, and talked of his congregation as a family that gave him great comfort in a time of pain.”
There’s something wonderful about that, I think. There’s not much better than family to back you up when you need them – and there’s not much better when the church is that family – but there is something sinister when the church is rallied around Bishop Eddie Long, promising their support of him, labeling his accusers as liars, calling their testimony a betrayal, when those accusers are a part of that church family as well. In demonizing them a church family turns its back on four of its brothers. Four young men who may well have been injured beyond repair by a man whom they trusted as a father, their voices are not heard but ignored. As victims, victims that they very well may be, they are not comforted but silenced.
In the words of Jay Bookman, who wrote an opinion column on the subject for the Atlanta Journal Constitution, “As family counselors and child-abuse specialists can testify, that’s not surprising. The dynamics at New Birth [Missionary Baptist Church] are painfully similar to those in families all across the country… In a church as in a home, it can be far less painful to suppress the claim than to demand accountability from those with power.” And so, to avoid even the thought that the pastor they see as being so close to God might be a wolf in sheep’s clothes, a conclusion that would threaten the very foundation of their church and their faith, the victims’ testimonies are doubted, their voices silenced, and their words that may well be the truth that seeks to topple a system of abuse by the hand of a powerful man are ignored.
The book of Lamentations is an often-ignored book. It’s words are not easy to hear speaking as they do of suffering, but we must listen to this voice, for in ignoring any voice of lamentation, be it children abused by priests, or young men accusing a respected figure of wrong doing, ignoring the voice of the downtrodden allows the injustice that they suffered to continue, allows for systems of oppression to go on oppressing, allows for all the wrong in the world to never be made right.
That the book of Lamentations is even here in the Bible seems a miracle, but it is read today as it has been read for years, in the hopes that the system that the prophet Jeremiah prophesied against, the system that God allowed the Babylonians to topple, the system that resulted in 70 years of exile for the Israelites, would not be repeated.
This book is read today to help us to question the way things are that we might avoid the failures of the past, as Laminations is a song written from a place you never want to go, a destination you never want to end up in, it is a warning – your path may be leading you here, and here is where you do not want to be.
Hear these words of warning – do not ignore its voice.
But too often we do – and lost in a place we don’t want to be we wish we would have listened.
The hierarchy of the church, rather than hear the testimony of the abused wanted to go on believing that Priests were not capable of such crimes, and now hundreds of children have been violated.
And what destiny awaits New Birth? Rather than hear the testimony of the abused, many seem to want to go on believing that their pastor is as holy as they want him to be, and how many more young men will have to be violated before it stops?
Then there are the voices that cry out in the world – the hungry children cry out – but do we hear their voice or go on down the path that we are set on going down?
The orphans of war – will we hear their voices that question our violence?
The sick without care – will we hear their groans or go on living as though everything were fine?
The solider with nowhere to go and no one who understands – will we stand by him as we once did or leave him to fend for himself once he’s done what we asked him to do?
The battered and the beaten who demand that we question our lives, wonder how if the way things are results in their pain, than is this the way things have to be?
We would too often rather go on living our daily lives than question where our way of life is taking us; we too often silence the voices of descent because they put our way of life into question; but their voices are warnings: “You do not want to keep going down this road.”
The voice of Lamentations is a warning, just as the cross stood as warning to Rome. As the great critique of Empire – what you call peace is not peace, what you call justice is not justice, your system, how can you call it righteous when your system put Christ to the cross?
And his words are here for us now.
That when you think that the cries of the world are not worth hearing, he reminds you that we are all part of one body.
When you think that you are all alone, he reminds you that we all eat from one common loaf of bread.
When words of suffering make you too uncomfortable and you are tempted to ignore them, he calls you to drink from the cup, poured out of his blood.
Today we celebrate world communion, celebrating the great feast of the Eucharist together with Christians from one corner of the globe to the other, and we are called to hear their voices that cry out to us, calling us to change our ways that the world might not be broken up into friends and enemies, but united as brothers and sisters in Christ.
His voice at this table calls us back to righteous living.
His invitation to you is to come and be made whole.
I’ll close with a Franciscan Benediction:
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
Amen.
How deserted lies the city, once so full of people!
How like a widow is she, who once was great among the nations!
She who was queen among the provinces has now become a slave.
Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are upon her cheeks.
Among all her lovers there is none to comfort her.
All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies.
After affliction and harsh labor, Judah has gone into exile.
She dwells among the nations; she finds no resting place.
All who pursue her have overtaken her in the midst of her distress.
The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to her appointed feasts.
All her gateways are desolate, her priests groan, her maidens grieve, and she is in bitter anguish.
Her foes have become her masters; her enemies are at ease.
The Lord has brought her grief because of her many sins.
Her children have gone into exile, captive before the foe.
All the splendor has departed from the Daughter of Zion.
Her princes are like deer that find no pasture; in weakness they have fled before the pursuer.
Sermon
October is pastor appreciation month, and even though I am one, I don’t think this is a very good time to be appreciating pastors to be quite honest.
The Pope has continued to receive harsh criticism for not confronting the evil of child abuses by clergy, and for maybe even knowingly ignoring the plight of the victims, maybe even turning a deaf ear to their cries for justice.
October is also a month when we will be giving extra attention to the Bishop Eddie Long who stood in the pulpit last Sunday morning, “looked out over the thousands assembled to hear him speak, and talked of his congregation as a family that gave him great comfort in a time of pain.”
There’s something wonderful about that, I think. There’s not much better than family to back you up when you need them – and there’s not much better when the church is that family – but there is something sinister when the church is rallied around Bishop Eddie Long, promising their support of him, labeling his accusers as liars, calling their testimony a betrayal, when those accusers are a part of that church family as well. In demonizing them a church family turns its back on four of its brothers. Four young men who may well have been injured beyond repair by a man whom they trusted as a father, their voices are not heard but ignored. As victims, victims that they very well may be, they are not comforted but silenced.
In the words of Jay Bookman, who wrote an opinion column on the subject for the Atlanta Journal Constitution, “As family counselors and child-abuse specialists can testify, that’s not surprising. The dynamics at New Birth [Missionary Baptist Church] are painfully similar to those in families all across the country… In a church as in a home, it can be far less painful to suppress the claim than to demand accountability from those with power.” And so, to avoid even the thought that the pastor they see as being so close to God might be a wolf in sheep’s clothes, a conclusion that would threaten the very foundation of their church and their faith, the victims’ testimonies are doubted, their voices silenced, and their words that may well be the truth that seeks to topple a system of abuse by the hand of a powerful man are ignored.
The book of Lamentations is an often-ignored book. It’s words are not easy to hear speaking as they do of suffering, but we must listen to this voice, for in ignoring any voice of lamentation, be it children abused by priests, or young men accusing a respected figure of wrong doing, ignoring the voice of the downtrodden allows the injustice that they suffered to continue, allows for systems of oppression to go on oppressing, allows for all the wrong in the world to never be made right.
That the book of Lamentations is even here in the Bible seems a miracle, but it is read today as it has been read for years, in the hopes that the system that the prophet Jeremiah prophesied against, the system that God allowed the Babylonians to topple, the system that resulted in 70 years of exile for the Israelites, would not be repeated.
This book is read today to help us to question the way things are that we might avoid the failures of the past, as Laminations is a song written from a place you never want to go, a destination you never want to end up in, it is a warning – your path may be leading you here, and here is where you do not want to be.
Hear these words of warning – do not ignore its voice.
But too often we do – and lost in a place we don’t want to be we wish we would have listened.
The hierarchy of the church, rather than hear the testimony of the abused wanted to go on believing that Priests were not capable of such crimes, and now hundreds of children have been violated.
And what destiny awaits New Birth? Rather than hear the testimony of the abused, many seem to want to go on believing that their pastor is as holy as they want him to be, and how many more young men will have to be violated before it stops?
Then there are the voices that cry out in the world – the hungry children cry out – but do we hear their voice or go on down the path that we are set on going down?
The orphans of war – will we hear their voices that question our violence?
The sick without care – will we hear their groans or go on living as though everything were fine?
The solider with nowhere to go and no one who understands – will we stand by him as we once did or leave him to fend for himself once he’s done what we asked him to do?
The battered and the beaten who demand that we question our lives, wonder how if the way things are results in their pain, than is this the way things have to be?
We would too often rather go on living our daily lives than question where our way of life is taking us; we too often silence the voices of descent because they put our way of life into question; but their voices are warnings: “You do not want to keep going down this road.”
The voice of Lamentations is a warning, just as the cross stood as warning to Rome. As the great critique of Empire – what you call peace is not peace, what you call justice is not justice, your system, how can you call it righteous when your system put Christ to the cross?
And his words are here for us now.
That when you think that the cries of the world are not worth hearing, he reminds you that we are all part of one body.
When you think that you are all alone, he reminds you that we all eat from one common loaf of bread.
When words of suffering make you too uncomfortable and you are tempted to ignore them, he calls you to drink from the cup, poured out of his blood.
Today we celebrate world communion, celebrating the great feast of the Eucharist together with Christians from one corner of the globe to the other, and we are called to hear their voices that cry out to us, calling us to change our ways that the world might not be broken up into friends and enemies, but united as brothers and sisters in Christ.
His voice at this table calls us back to righteous living.
His invitation to you is to come and be made whole.
I’ll close with a Franciscan Benediction:
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
Amen.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Again in this Land
Jeremiah 32: 1-15, page 561
This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord in the tenth year of Zedekiah king of Judah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar. The army of the king of Babylon was then besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah the prophet was confined in the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah.
Now Zedekiah king of Judah had imprisoned him there, saying, “Why do you prophesy as you do? You say, “This is what the Lord says: I am about to hand this city over to the king of Babylon, and he will capture it. Zedekiah king of Judah will not escape out of the hand of the Babylonians but will certainly be handed over to the king of Babylon, and will speak with him face to face and see him with his own eyes. He will take Zedekiah to Babylon, where he will remain until I deal with him, declares the Lord. If you fight against the Babylonians, you will not succeed.”
Jeremiah said, “The word of the Lord came to me: Hanamel son of Shallum your uncle is going to come to you and say, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth, because as nearest relative it is your right and duty to buy it.’
Then, just as the Lord had said, my cousin Hanamel came to me in the courtyard of the guard and said, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth in the territory of Benjamin. Since it is your right to redeem it and possess it, buy it for yourself.’
In knew that this was of the Lord; so I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver. I signed and sealed the deed, had it witnessed, and weighed out the silver on the scales. I took the deed of purchase – the sealed copy containing the terms and conditions, as well as the unsealed copy – and I gave this deed to Baruch son of Neriah, the son of Mahseiah, in the presence of my cousin Hanamel and of the witnesses who had signed the deed and of all the Jews sitting in the courtyard of the guard.
In their presence I gave Baruch these instructions: ‘This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel says: take these documents, both the sealed and unsealed copies of the deed of purchase, and put them in a clay jar so they will last a long time. For this is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel says: Houses, fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land.’
Sermon
I was listening to a radio program called “This American Life,” last week. I listen to this particular program a lot, as each week the topic of the show changes, always to something interesting. This past week’s show featured different stories, all of whom were told by people who came to understand their life better by interpreting their life in light of some scientific law.
This is a strange idea, I know, but hear me out.
The show began with a young man whose father was convinced that New York City was the perfect place. That New York was where he belonged, that there people would understand him and embrace him, there he would find success and happiness, find all the elusive things he had been searching for.
The son who tells this story about his father knew that if his father couldn’t be happy, moving wasn’t going to change that; that in fact, moving to New York City wouldn’t change anything because it’s foolish to think that just moving somewhere different will fix all your problems, that eventually you have to bloom where you’re planted as all places endure ups and downs.
There’s a principle from science that fits this situation as it turns out: The Mediocrity Principle. The Mediocrity Principle emerged after Galileo discovered that the universe does not in fact revolve around the sun, that the earth is not the most important part of the galaxy, and so claims that no place in the universe is more special than any other
Scientists, however, resent using laws this way, and I suppose that makes sense. The Mediocrity Principle wasn’t developed so that sons might understand their fathers, but so that astronomers might understand the universe.
This is one difference between science and religion, as while the Bible wasn’t written with us in mind per se, Christianity is certainly different from science because this is exactly the hope – that in reading sacred texts we might not only understand Jeremiah, but ourselves.
To better understand ourselves then, let us look to what may seem to be a rather mundane event in the life of Jeremiah. Jeremiah is here doing what many of us have done before, he is buying land. What is recorded in scripture here in Jeremiah chapter 32 is a real-estate transaction, and to understand its significance you have to understand Jeremiah, who he was, and who he is in relation to King Zedekiah of Judah.
Our first scripture lesson came from Jeremiah’s first chapter, the story of Jeremiah’s call by God. Here, though only a boy, he was called by God to “destroy and overthrow,” but also to “build and to plant.”
The first part of Jeremiah’s call, to “destroy and overthrow,” is what got him in trouble with the King of Judah. King Zedekiah can’t rule a people panicked over his nation’s fall to Babylon, and whether or not the King actually thinks Judah will fall, Jeremiah has been telling people that there is no point in fighting the Babylonians as God has already decided how the battle will end. No King can expect an army to fight well should that army be convinced that they’re going to lose, so the King has an interest in keeping Jeremiah quiet.
But not only does the King want Jeremiah quiet. The king also wants to try to understand what it is that Jeremiah thinks he’s doing. “Why do you prophesy as you do?” King Zedekiah asks.
Jeremiah’s response is the second part of God’s charge to him: “to build and to plant.”
Jeremiah’s answer to the King’s question is that while disaster and destruction are surely coming, that is only half the message: I prophesy as I do because I know that at the end of all of this: “Houses, fields, and vineyards will again be bought in this land.”
There’s a lesson here for us, and not just because in many ways our world has been toppled as though invaded by the Babylonian army, jobs lost, retirement and savings depleted, our way of life changed, there’s a lesson here for us because as a church we have bought property in a time it didn’t make very much sense to do so.
It was over a year ago that we bought that land next to our church, and while to most of us at the time it made a lot of sense to take advantage of the chance to buy the property right next door, there were many who asked sound questions founded in reality: “why are we doing this?” some asked, “we don’t need more land, if anything we need less.” “This nation is going into a recession – you can’t think that now is a good time to be making purchases that aren’t completely necessary, can you?” And maybe the most important: “for the last ten years our church has been getting smaller, not larger. What do we need with room to grow?”
These are good questions – especially in light of the immediate future at the time – a future which we know now is what we feared it would be – a time of tightened belts, pay cuts, furlough days, and job loss.
But we’ve got to remember that Jeremiah bought land in Judah, not after the Babylonians captured and destroyed, but during, right “when the army of the king of Babylon was then besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah the prophet was confined in the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah,” right before even the King knew that his kingdom would be concurred, he himself taken by the Babylonian hordes.
Jeremiah bought land when there was no reason to believe that he would even need it or have a reason to use it; for all he knew he would be taken back to Babylon as a prisoner of war and there he would die, never even setting foot on the land that he bought that day.
In fact, it would seem as though he knew he would never see that day because he is sure to sign the documents before witnesses and requests that his scribe Baruch take the documents and seal them in clay jars so that they will “last a long time.”
Today, for whatever reason, I am painfully aware that I am your interim pastor, and that I will not be here when you will need to expand into the property that we bought one year ago. But as a man of faith – both faith in God and faith in you – I know that such a day will soon be coming.
We have certainly seen some hard times, dramatic change. But what I know for certain is that God has not put this church here and through hard times so that we might fade away, but so that we might be reborn.
Like Jeremiah, you have planned for the future by buying land; and like Jeremiah, you must now look forward to the day when you will need it – for having been through hard times – you are entering the days of building and planting in a place that God intends you stay.
You have made it through some hard times – now comes something new – a time with its own challenges, but challenges of growth and not decline.
You have made it through some hard times – and now you are ready for a future that only the faithful could have seen a year ago.
You have made it through some hard times – now build where you are planted – a place where God has been faithful, a place where God will continue to be faithful.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord in the tenth year of Zedekiah king of Judah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar. The army of the king of Babylon was then besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah the prophet was confined in the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah.
Now Zedekiah king of Judah had imprisoned him there, saying, “Why do you prophesy as you do? You say, “This is what the Lord says: I am about to hand this city over to the king of Babylon, and he will capture it. Zedekiah king of Judah will not escape out of the hand of the Babylonians but will certainly be handed over to the king of Babylon, and will speak with him face to face and see him with his own eyes. He will take Zedekiah to Babylon, where he will remain until I deal with him, declares the Lord. If you fight against the Babylonians, you will not succeed.”
Jeremiah said, “The word of the Lord came to me: Hanamel son of Shallum your uncle is going to come to you and say, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth, because as nearest relative it is your right and duty to buy it.’
Then, just as the Lord had said, my cousin Hanamel came to me in the courtyard of the guard and said, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth in the territory of Benjamin. Since it is your right to redeem it and possess it, buy it for yourself.’
In knew that this was of the Lord; so I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver. I signed and sealed the deed, had it witnessed, and weighed out the silver on the scales. I took the deed of purchase – the sealed copy containing the terms and conditions, as well as the unsealed copy – and I gave this deed to Baruch son of Neriah, the son of Mahseiah, in the presence of my cousin Hanamel and of the witnesses who had signed the deed and of all the Jews sitting in the courtyard of the guard.
In their presence I gave Baruch these instructions: ‘This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel says: take these documents, both the sealed and unsealed copies of the deed of purchase, and put them in a clay jar so they will last a long time. For this is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel says: Houses, fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land.’
Sermon
I was listening to a radio program called “This American Life,” last week. I listen to this particular program a lot, as each week the topic of the show changes, always to something interesting. This past week’s show featured different stories, all of whom were told by people who came to understand their life better by interpreting their life in light of some scientific law.
This is a strange idea, I know, but hear me out.
The show began with a young man whose father was convinced that New York City was the perfect place. That New York was where he belonged, that there people would understand him and embrace him, there he would find success and happiness, find all the elusive things he had been searching for.
The son who tells this story about his father knew that if his father couldn’t be happy, moving wasn’t going to change that; that in fact, moving to New York City wouldn’t change anything because it’s foolish to think that just moving somewhere different will fix all your problems, that eventually you have to bloom where you’re planted as all places endure ups and downs.
There’s a principle from science that fits this situation as it turns out: The Mediocrity Principle. The Mediocrity Principle emerged after Galileo discovered that the universe does not in fact revolve around the sun, that the earth is not the most important part of the galaxy, and so claims that no place in the universe is more special than any other
Scientists, however, resent using laws this way, and I suppose that makes sense. The Mediocrity Principle wasn’t developed so that sons might understand their fathers, but so that astronomers might understand the universe.
This is one difference between science and religion, as while the Bible wasn’t written with us in mind per se, Christianity is certainly different from science because this is exactly the hope – that in reading sacred texts we might not only understand Jeremiah, but ourselves.
To better understand ourselves then, let us look to what may seem to be a rather mundane event in the life of Jeremiah. Jeremiah is here doing what many of us have done before, he is buying land. What is recorded in scripture here in Jeremiah chapter 32 is a real-estate transaction, and to understand its significance you have to understand Jeremiah, who he was, and who he is in relation to King Zedekiah of Judah.
Our first scripture lesson came from Jeremiah’s first chapter, the story of Jeremiah’s call by God. Here, though only a boy, he was called by God to “destroy and overthrow,” but also to “build and to plant.”
The first part of Jeremiah’s call, to “destroy and overthrow,” is what got him in trouble with the King of Judah. King Zedekiah can’t rule a people panicked over his nation’s fall to Babylon, and whether or not the King actually thinks Judah will fall, Jeremiah has been telling people that there is no point in fighting the Babylonians as God has already decided how the battle will end. No King can expect an army to fight well should that army be convinced that they’re going to lose, so the King has an interest in keeping Jeremiah quiet.
But not only does the King want Jeremiah quiet. The king also wants to try to understand what it is that Jeremiah thinks he’s doing. “Why do you prophesy as you do?” King Zedekiah asks.
Jeremiah’s response is the second part of God’s charge to him: “to build and to plant.”
Jeremiah’s answer to the King’s question is that while disaster and destruction are surely coming, that is only half the message: I prophesy as I do because I know that at the end of all of this: “Houses, fields, and vineyards will again be bought in this land.”
There’s a lesson here for us, and not just because in many ways our world has been toppled as though invaded by the Babylonian army, jobs lost, retirement and savings depleted, our way of life changed, there’s a lesson here for us because as a church we have bought property in a time it didn’t make very much sense to do so.
It was over a year ago that we bought that land next to our church, and while to most of us at the time it made a lot of sense to take advantage of the chance to buy the property right next door, there were many who asked sound questions founded in reality: “why are we doing this?” some asked, “we don’t need more land, if anything we need less.” “This nation is going into a recession – you can’t think that now is a good time to be making purchases that aren’t completely necessary, can you?” And maybe the most important: “for the last ten years our church has been getting smaller, not larger. What do we need with room to grow?”
These are good questions – especially in light of the immediate future at the time – a future which we know now is what we feared it would be – a time of tightened belts, pay cuts, furlough days, and job loss.
But we’ve got to remember that Jeremiah bought land in Judah, not after the Babylonians captured and destroyed, but during, right “when the army of the king of Babylon was then besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah the prophet was confined in the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah,” right before even the King knew that his kingdom would be concurred, he himself taken by the Babylonian hordes.
Jeremiah bought land when there was no reason to believe that he would even need it or have a reason to use it; for all he knew he would be taken back to Babylon as a prisoner of war and there he would die, never even setting foot on the land that he bought that day.
In fact, it would seem as though he knew he would never see that day because he is sure to sign the documents before witnesses and requests that his scribe Baruch take the documents and seal them in clay jars so that they will “last a long time.”
Today, for whatever reason, I am painfully aware that I am your interim pastor, and that I will not be here when you will need to expand into the property that we bought one year ago. But as a man of faith – both faith in God and faith in you – I know that such a day will soon be coming.
We have certainly seen some hard times, dramatic change. But what I know for certain is that God has not put this church here and through hard times so that we might fade away, but so that we might be reborn.
Like Jeremiah, you have planned for the future by buying land; and like Jeremiah, you must now look forward to the day when you will need it – for having been through hard times – you are entering the days of building and planting in a place that God intends you stay.
You have made it through some hard times – now comes something new – a time with its own challenges, but challenges of growth and not decline.
You have made it through some hard times – and now you are ready for a future that only the faithful could have seen a year ago.
You have made it through some hard times – now build where you are planted – a place where God has been faithful, a place where God will continue to be faithful.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
It Depends Where You're Standing
Luke 16: 1-15, page 740
Jesus told his disciples: “There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, ‘what is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.’
“The manager said to himself, ‘What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job, I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m ashamed to beg – I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.’
“So he called in each one of his master’s debtors. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’
“’Eight hindered gallons of olive oil,’ he replied.
“The manager told him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.’
“Then he asked the second, ‘and how much do you owe?’
“’A thousand bushels of wheat,’ he replied.
“He told him, ‘Take your bill and make it eight hundred.’
“The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else’s property, who will give you property of your own?
“No servant can serve two masters. Either he or she will hate the one and love the other, or he or she will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.”
The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. He said to them, “You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of humanity, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among people is detestable in God’s sight.
Sermons
Jesus tells stories, but as you can see, they’re not always easy to follow and they sometimes take work to understand.
You particularly find out that this is true when re-telling Jesus’ parables to children.
I was thankful this past Wednesday morning to be standing where I was, in the back of the crowd, while our Pre-School director Pam McClure was standing in front. She was telling a group of three and four year old children the story of the Good Samaritan.
“There was a man hurt on the side of the road,” she said. “His body was covered in boo-boos.”
“Were they bug bites?” a little girl with curly blond hair asked.
“No honey,” Pam responded, “they weren’t bug bites.”
“Bug bites hurt,” the little girl responded.”
“Yes they do honey, but let me get back to telling the story,” Pam said.
“Do you like my hair?” the little girl asked.
You see – even just finishing the story gets complicated when you are telling it to children, but what is also difficult is leading them to associate with the character you want them to associate with – because where they stand in the story matters – where they stand changes how they hear the lesson.
Take Robin Hood for example. It’s a complicated story, especially if the stories hearer’s begin to associate with the rich – “It’s wrong to steal, isn’t it?” a child might rightly ask.
And a response: “Yes he steals from the rich but he gives to the poor,” might or might not clear anything up.
This morning we are faced with a particularly difficult parable to understand – whether you are a child or a seminary trained pastor who has tried to unravel it by reading it in Greek – this parable will give you a hard time.
The place to begin though is knowing who to associate with – knowing where you stand in the story.
There are three main players: the rich man, also referred to in the parable as the master, is easy enough to figure out – this character represents God – the source of all the possessions possessed by any character in the story. Then there are the debtors – one who carries a debt of olive oil, another of grain. To figure out who these two represent you need only be reminded of your credit card bill or the prayer that we pray every Sunday, “forgive us our debts.” This character in the parable represents you.
And the third – maybe the most important as he is the main character – is a little harder to figure out – so you must go to the end of our passage to hear who this parable offended. The manager, the manager of the debts, the middle man between you, the debtor, and God, the master, are those powerful religious elite who had a particular interest, not in your ability to pay off your debt free and clear, but had a particular interest in keeping you in-debt so that they might make a living off your gradual payment, so that they might hold power over you keeping you in a hole that they had no interest in you ever getting out of.
In today’s world we have known religious professionals who have taken the same approach – maintaining a sure sense of your indebtedness and lording that indebtedness over you so that even once you feel as though you’ve gained some salvation in comes a fear of back-sliding putting you right back where they want you.
But surely here, while I have hit my hand against the pulpit once or twice, it’s not a religious authority who holds you in debt – so this parable isn’t just about guilt and shame and those people who make a living from your guilt and shame – this parable is also about money.
Money that controls, and keeps folks chasing after it. Greed that defines, and redefines priorities so that profit matters over all else. And debt that confines, holds down, and imprisons – keeps folks from freedom, peace of mind, and security.
There are plenty in our world who would play the part of the manager flawlessly.
There are those banks that, from their commercials, appear to be about getting people on their feet, small businesses off the ground, and families in houses that they can afford. But too many have found that the reality is that so many who have loaned money out don’t want to help, don’t even want you to pay off your debt, but want you in the trap of accumulating interest for as long as they can hold you. Credit cards that come in the mail and appear to be the answer to our prayers – veritable interest rate loans that start off just fine – but the goal of these companies is not to help you – but to control you and squeeze as much money out of you as they can.
Then there are those people, those brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, so kind, so comforting in times of mourning, but who circle like vultures when the will is read. Money becomes what matters – and the relationships that are the only ties that bind are forfeited in the name of who gets what.
There are those bosses who want you as long as you’re producing, those friends who offer you favors, not to be kind but who are looking forward to you repaying in kind.
We hold grudges rather than give forgiveness, hold interest rather than forgive debts, and chase money rather than holding on to each other – as like the Pharisees before us – we know that this kind of power can be nice.
But who are we, but managers of what God gives – and shouldn’t we be both surprised and afraid to find that God has no interest in lording over us, holding our debts over us, keeping us tied down – but only desires that our debts be reconciled offering a lower rate than we would ever expect – that our relationships to each other and to our God be made right as though our God only desires that we be set free – only desires that we give up our pursuit of worthless treasures in favor of something that truly matters: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”
I have a debate with myself whenever I check out at the grocery store. I was at the Kroger the other morning, in a hurry but not too much of a hurry.
I thought about the self-checkout line – there were a couple people there – then I looked at the sole check-out line peopled by a Kroger employee and went there though there was a line.
The man in front of me bought cigarettes, cat food, and a newspaper – I’m a nosy person you see.
I was surprise that he started talking about a book he’s reading to the woman at the register.
“It’s a work of science fiction – it will probably take me six weeks to read it – you have to have a physics back ground to understand it – I have to sit and think awhile after I’ve only read five pages.
“And could you also give me change for a ten – two fives please,” the man said.
“I’m taking my mother to get her hair done and if I only have a $10 bill she’ll want to tip the stylist the whole $10.”
“It looks like you got a hair but too,” the woman at the register said. “You look nice.”
“Not too nice though,” he replied. “I lost another tooth so I’m scared to smile because when I do I look like I’m from Appalachia.”
“I’m getting a new one though,” he said.
“Well then, you come in here smiling once you do,” the woman said.
He covered his mouth, “I’m smiling now, but don’t look – you may hear the theme song from deliverance.”
Then he left.
“I love seeing that man. He makes me smile every time I see him,” the woman at the register said to me.
Profit drives stores to have those self-checkout lanes – and we like them too, not just because they’re convenient but because if they save a little money the stores will save us a little money.
But there are things more important.
Self-checkout lines don’t get jokes. They can’t smile.
So it depends where you’re standing. In one line or the other.
And money goes – you lose it by spending it away, wasting it away, or by dying without the option of taking any of it with you.
Friends on the other hand – real friends – are there for keeps.
God on the other hand – the Alpha and Omega – the beginning and the end – will always stand with you.
But so much depends on where you stand.
Amen.
Jesus told his disciples: “There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, ‘what is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.’
“The manager said to himself, ‘What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job, I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m ashamed to beg – I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.’
“So he called in each one of his master’s debtors. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’
“’Eight hindered gallons of olive oil,’ he replied.
“The manager told him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.’
“Then he asked the second, ‘and how much do you owe?’
“’A thousand bushels of wheat,’ he replied.
“He told him, ‘Take your bill and make it eight hundred.’
“The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else’s property, who will give you property of your own?
“No servant can serve two masters. Either he or she will hate the one and love the other, or he or she will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.”
The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. He said to them, “You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of humanity, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among people is detestable in God’s sight.
Sermons
Jesus tells stories, but as you can see, they’re not always easy to follow and they sometimes take work to understand.
You particularly find out that this is true when re-telling Jesus’ parables to children.
I was thankful this past Wednesday morning to be standing where I was, in the back of the crowd, while our Pre-School director Pam McClure was standing in front. She was telling a group of three and four year old children the story of the Good Samaritan.
“There was a man hurt on the side of the road,” she said. “His body was covered in boo-boos.”
“Were they bug bites?” a little girl with curly blond hair asked.
“No honey,” Pam responded, “they weren’t bug bites.”
“Bug bites hurt,” the little girl responded.”
“Yes they do honey, but let me get back to telling the story,” Pam said.
“Do you like my hair?” the little girl asked.
You see – even just finishing the story gets complicated when you are telling it to children, but what is also difficult is leading them to associate with the character you want them to associate with – because where they stand in the story matters – where they stand changes how they hear the lesson.
Take Robin Hood for example. It’s a complicated story, especially if the stories hearer’s begin to associate with the rich – “It’s wrong to steal, isn’t it?” a child might rightly ask.
And a response: “Yes he steals from the rich but he gives to the poor,” might or might not clear anything up.
This morning we are faced with a particularly difficult parable to understand – whether you are a child or a seminary trained pastor who has tried to unravel it by reading it in Greek – this parable will give you a hard time.
The place to begin though is knowing who to associate with – knowing where you stand in the story.
There are three main players: the rich man, also referred to in the parable as the master, is easy enough to figure out – this character represents God – the source of all the possessions possessed by any character in the story. Then there are the debtors – one who carries a debt of olive oil, another of grain. To figure out who these two represent you need only be reminded of your credit card bill or the prayer that we pray every Sunday, “forgive us our debts.” This character in the parable represents you.
And the third – maybe the most important as he is the main character – is a little harder to figure out – so you must go to the end of our passage to hear who this parable offended. The manager, the manager of the debts, the middle man between you, the debtor, and God, the master, are those powerful religious elite who had a particular interest, not in your ability to pay off your debt free and clear, but had a particular interest in keeping you in-debt so that they might make a living off your gradual payment, so that they might hold power over you keeping you in a hole that they had no interest in you ever getting out of.
In today’s world we have known religious professionals who have taken the same approach – maintaining a sure sense of your indebtedness and lording that indebtedness over you so that even once you feel as though you’ve gained some salvation in comes a fear of back-sliding putting you right back where they want you.
But surely here, while I have hit my hand against the pulpit once or twice, it’s not a religious authority who holds you in debt – so this parable isn’t just about guilt and shame and those people who make a living from your guilt and shame – this parable is also about money.
Money that controls, and keeps folks chasing after it. Greed that defines, and redefines priorities so that profit matters over all else. And debt that confines, holds down, and imprisons – keeps folks from freedom, peace of mind, and security.
There are plenty in our world who would play the part of the manager flawlessly.
There are those banks that, from their commercials, appear to be about getting people on their feet, small businesses off the ground, and families in houses that they can afford. But too many have found that the reality is that so many who have loaned money out don’t want to help, don’t even want you to pay off your debt, but want you in the trap of accumulating interest for as long as they can hold you. Credit cards that come in the mail and appear to be the answer to our prayers – veritable interest rate loans that start off just fine – but the goal of these companies is not to help you – but to control you and squeeze as much money out of you as they can.
Then there are those people, those brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, so kind, so comforting in times of mourning, but who circle like vultures when the will is read. Money becomes what matters – and the relationships that are the only ties that bind are forfeited in the name of who gets what.
There are those bosses who want you as long as you’re producing, those friends who offer you favors, not to be kind but who are looking forward to you repaying in kind.
We hold grudges rather than give forgiveness, hold interest rather than forgive debts, and chase money rather than holding on to each other – as like the Pharisees before us – we know that this kind of power can be nice.
But who are we, but managers of what God gives – and shouldn’t we be both surprised and afraid to find that God has no interest in lording over us, holding our debts over us, keeping us tied down – but only desires that our debts be reconciled offering a lower rate than we would ever expect – that our relationships to each other and to our God be made right as though our God only desires that we be set free – only desires that we give up our pursuit of worthless treasures in favor of something that truly matters: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”
I have a debate with myself whenever I check out at the grocery store. I was at the Kroger the other morning, in a hurry but not too much of a hurry.
I thought about the self-checkout line – there were a couple people there – then I looked at the sole check-out line peopled by a Kroger employee and went there though there was a line.
The man in front of me bought cigarettes, cat food, and a newspaper – I’m a nosy person you see.
I was surprise that he started talking about a book he’s reading to the woman at the register.
“It’s a work of science fiction – it will probably take me six weeks to read it – you have to have a physics back ground to understand it – I have to sit and think awhile after I’ve only read five pages.
“And could you also give me change for a ten – two fives please,” the man said.
“I’m taking my mother to get her hair done and if I only have a $10 bill she’ll want to tip the stylist the whole $10.”
“It looks like you got a hair but too,” the woman at the register said. “You look nice.”
“Not too nice though,” he replied. “I lost another tooth so I’m scared to smile because when I do I look like I’m from Appalachia.”
“I’m getting a new one though,” he said.
“Well then, you come in here smiling once you do,” the woman said.
He covered his mouth, “I’m smiling now, but don’t look – you may hear the theme song from deliverance.”
Then he left.
“I love seeing that man. He makes me smile every time I see him,” the woman at the register said to me.
Profit drives stores to have those self-checkout lanes – and we like them too, not just because they’re convenient but because if they save a little money the stores will save us a little money.
But there are things more important.
Self-checkout lines don’t get jokes. They can’t smile.
So it depends where you’re standing. In one line or the other.
And money goes – you lose it by spending it away, wasting it away, or by dying without the option of taking any of it with you.
Friends on the other hand – real friends – are there for keeps.
God on the other hand – the Alpha and Omega – the beginning and the end – will always stand with you.
But so much depends on where you stand.
Amen.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Of Whom I am the Worst
1st Timothy 1: 12-17, page 839
I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief.
The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are to Christ Jesus.
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the word to save sinners – of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever, Amen.
Sermon
I know that there are plenty of people who wouldn’t dare walk through our doors and into our church out of fear that they are not good enough.
Some would be afraid that they don’t wear the right clothes; that they would feel out of place.
Some are afraid that their sinful way of life would be obvious, that we might all smell the alcohol on their breath, smoke on their clothes, adultery on their lips as though their sins were made plain like a scarlet letter or neon sign for everyone to see.
And some are afraid that they can’t measure up to us and our behavior. Some are afraid that they don’t deserve to associate with people like us – the saved, the redeemed, the nice, and the polite – and so they stay away because they think they aren’t good enough to fit in.
What a disappointment Church is to that group of people – as once they get in here and get to know us – if they thought we were cut from a finer cloth or were more perfect than all the rest I can’t say that it would take very long for them to feel disappointed.
As a church we try to make it obvious enough – right there on the cover of our bulletin we make a statement about who we are: “We are an imperfect people.”
This sounds like a very strange statement to make to some folks I’m sure – but what we say about ourselves is more or less the essence of Paul’s version of Christianity that we have read here in 1st Timothy: “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst.”
The author of this letter, one who is probably not Paul himself as most scholars believe 1st Timothy was written after Paul’s death, but a student of Paul modeling Paul’s teaching, is very up-front about something that most of us would rather hide.
I was talking with a young woman a little worried about heading off to college week before last. I asked her what she was most worried about. There’s so much you can know now about your roommates before you even meet them these days, and after having done considerable research on facebook and whatnot, finding out as much as she could about the young women who would become her roommates, she was worried that they might be rich and snobby, that they might have better clothes, and with them take up too much space in the shared closet.
“If it’s that they might come from more money than you do, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” I said. “College is the kind of place where most everyone is trying to escape who they are and where they come from. The kids from poor families don’t want you to know that they came from poor families, and the kids from rich families don’t want anyone to know that they came from rich families – I’m sure that if your roommates do come from money they are not going to want you to know anything about it.”
College is the kind of place where you start over, where you try to leave who you were behind, but who you are, where you come from, what you’ve done, and what you haven’t done aren’t things that you can run from or leave at home. We’re attracted to such opportunities as college, because just being ourselves is so hard. The courage to be – to boldly be who God created you to be – is a skill that too few posses.
Paul then, viewed by so many church-goers the way non-church-goers view church-goers, doesn’t remain up on that pedestal time and tradition have placed him on, but climbs right down to us, boldly proclaiming who he is and what he’s done: a blasphemer, persecutor of the church, a violent man.
It would have been so easy for Paul to let sleeping dogs lie, leave the past to the past, and allow us all to go on believing that the great Paul the Apostle were without fault.
But Paul knows, as I hope and pray, many of us know, that there is no reason for any of us to fear our pasts – as not only does God invite us to live a new life in Christ – but Christ’ grace was poured out on us abundantly while we were still sinners – before - before we had any chance of deserving it.
It is not out of a hope of deserving God’s love that Paul changed his way of life – it was a response to God’s grace that he received before he had changed anything or had any hope of deserving it.
That’s why at this church we say, not only that we are an imperfect people, but that “We are an imperfect people, who, in response to God’s Grace, are striving to live as disciples of Jesus Christ.”
Like Paul then – we boldly proclaim our imperfection, our sin, our short-coming – not because we miss our old way of life, and rather than pretend that we can escape it we know that we are not defined by it, because in the midst of that brokenness there was God’s love shining bright. In the midst of our undeserving nature, there was God’s grace poured out. In the midst of all our imperfection, there was God’s perfection making us unafraid to be who we truly are.
Our brokenness is not our weakness – our brokenness is nothing to be afraid of – as in spite of that brokenness that makes you feel that you don’t deserve God’s love, remember that it was when you were broken that the grace of our Lord was poured out to you abundantly – not because you are good, but because God is good.
As a church – we can’t be about anything else – and so we do our best to boldly proclaim that God’s love isn’t about deserving – it’s about the kind of love that is given and can never be deserved.
Yesterday I received an email from, John VanBrunt, a man who a few years ago was extremely active in our church’s life and ministry to the point that he and others were driving to Long Beach, Mississippi, to aid in reconstruction efforts in the wake of hurricane Katrina every other month. This group, along with middle-schoolers and high-schoolers from our church who also worked in Long Beach with their leader Katie Arnold, formed a relationship with one family, the Allenbaughs, who you may remember from the time they visited our church. Chris Allenbaugh, the bread-winner of the family, needed a motor for his boat, as the family’s livelihood depended on his work out on the ocean which he was unable to do, having lost everything in the storm.
Our church raised the money in no time for Chris to buy his boat a brand new motor – but as we raised the money there were plenty among us who worried – will giving this family a motor really help, or should they be working for it? Can our hand-outs really help this family, or will giving them a huge gift they didn’t have to earn make them dependant?
These are good and important questions – our church decided that we would just do what we could to help, and that we would leave the rest up to God.
We abundantly poured out to this family – and today, to use John’s words: “through God’s providential care and timing” Chris has been able to use his boat to provide a significant financial cushion helping to clean up the Long Beach area during the BP oil spill clean-up.
I don’t think that you could ever say that Chris and his family deserved the motor our church gave, but I do know that our gift, poured out abundantly like God’s grace, changed a family and gave them something to stand on.
This is in fact what I believe our church, and all churches for that matter, should be all about.
Not worrying about who deserves what – but responding to the grace you have received by pouring out love on others who deserve it as much as you did.
The truth of the matter is that you aren’t good enough to be here, as no one is good enough to be invited into the presence of God.
You can’t measure up, as even though you have left an old way of life behind in favor of a new one, perfection is something that you will never attain.
But thanks be to God – your imperfection is not something for you to hide away – as for you – God’s love is poured out abundantly – God’s grace has made you worthy – so there is no reason for you to fear anyone’s judgment, there is no reason to worry about not being good enough – all that is required is that you respond to God’s Grace by pouring out this abundant love to others who don’t deserve it either.
Amen.
I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief.
The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are to Christ Jesus.
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the word to save sinners – of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever, Amen.
Sermon
I know that there are plenty of people who wouldn’t dare walk through our doors and into our church out of fear that they are not good enough.
Some would be afraid that they don’t wear the right clothes; that they would feel out of place.
Some are afraid that their sinful way of life would be obvious, that we might all smell the alcohol on their breath, smoke on their clothes, adultery on their lips as though their sins were made plain like a scarlet letter or neon sign for everyone to see.
And some are afraid that they can’t measure up to us and our behavior. Some are afraid that they don’t deserve to associate with people like us – the saved, the redeemed, the nice, and the polite – and so they stay away because they think they aren’t good enough to fit in.
What a disappointment Church is to that group of people – as once they get in here and get to know us – if they thought we were cut from a finer cloth or were more perfect than all the rest I can’t say that it would take very long for them to feel disappointed.
As a church we try to make it obvious enough – right there on the cover of our bulletin we make a statement about who we are: “We are an imperfect people.”
This sounds like a very strange statement to make to some folks I’m sure – but what we say about ourselves is more or less the essence of Paul’s version of Christianity that we have read here in 1st Timothy: “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst.”
The author of this letter, one who is probably not Paul himself as most scholars believe 1st Timothy was written after Paul’s death, but a student of Paul modeling Paul’s teaching, is very up-front about something that most of us would rather hide.
I was talking with a young woman a little worried about heading off to college week before last. I asked her what she was most worried about. There’s so much you can know now about your roommates before you even meet them these days, and after having done considerable research on facebook and whatnot, finding out as much as she could about the young women who would become her roommates, she was worried that they might be rich and snobby, that they might have better clothes, and with them take up too much space in the shared closet.
“If it’s that they might come from more money than you do, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” I said. “College is the kind of place where most everyone is trying to escape who they are and where they come from. The kids from poor families don’t want you to know that they came from poor families, and the kids from rich families don’t want anyone to know that they came from rich families – I’m sure that if your roommates do come from money they are not going to want you to know anything about it.”
College is the kind of place where you start over, where you try to leave who you were behind, but who you are, where you come from, what you’ve done, and what you haven’t done aren’t things that you can run from or leave at home. We’re attracted to such opportunities as college, because just being ourselves is so hard. The courage to be – to boldly be who God created you to be – is a skill that too few posses.
Paul then, viewed by so many church-goers the way non-church-goers view church-goers, doesn’t remain up on that pedestal time and tradition have placed him on, but climbs right down to us, boldly proclaiming who he is and what he’s done: a blasphemer, persecutor of the church, a violent man.
It would have been so easy for Paul to let sleeping dogs lie, leave the past to the past, and allow us all to go on believing that the great Paul the Apostle were without fault.
But Paul knows, as I hope and pray, many of us know, that there is no reason for any of us to fear our pasts – as not only does God invite us to live a new life in Christ – but Christ’ grace was poured out on us abundantly while we were still sinners – before - before we had any chance of deserving it.
It is not out of a hope of deserving God’s love that Paul changed his way of life – it was a response to God’s grace that he received before he had changed anything or had any hope of deserving it.
That’s why at this church we say, not only that we are an imperfect people, but that “We are an imperfect people, who, in response to God’s Grace, are striving to live as disciples of Jesus Christ.”
Like Paul then – we boldly proclaim our imperfection, our sin, our short-coming – not because we miss our old way of life, and rather than pretend that we can escape it we know that we are not defined by it, because in the midst of that brokenness there was God’s love shining bright. In the midst of our undeserving nature, there was God’s grace poured out. In the midst of all our imperfection, there was God’s perfection making us unafraid to be who we truly are.
Our brokenness is not our weakness – our brokenness is nothing to be afraid of – as in spite of that brokenness that makes you feel that you don’t deserve God’s love, remember that it was when you were broken that the grace of our Lord was poured out to you abundantly – not because you are good, but because God is good.
As a church – we can’t be about anything else – and so we do our best to boldly proclaim that God’s love isn’t about deserving – it’s about the kind of love that is given and can never be deserved.
Yesterday I received an email from, John VanBrunt, a man who a few years ago was extremely active in our church’s life and ministry to the point that he and others were driving to Long Beach, Mississippi, to aid in reconstruction efforts in the wake of hurricane Katrina every other month. This group, along with middle-schoolers and high-schoolers from our church who also worked in Long Beach with their leader Katie Arnold, formed a relationship with one family, the Allenbaughs, who you may remember from the time they visited our church. Chris Allenbaugh, the bread-winner of the family, needed a motor for his boat, as the family’s livelihood depended on his work out on the ocean which he was unable to do, having lost everything in the storm.
Our church raised the money in no time for Chris to buy his boat a brand new motor – but as we raised the money there were plenty among us who worried – will giving this family a motor really help, or should they be working for it? Can our hand-outs really help this family, or will giving them a huge gift they didn’t have to earn make them dependant?
These are good and important questions – our church decided that we would just do what we could to help, and that we would leave the rest up to God.
We abundantly poured out to this family – and today, to use John’s words: “through God’s providential care and timing” Chris has been able to use his boat to provide a significant financial cushion helping to clean up the Long Beach area during the BP oil spill clean-up.
I don’t think that you could ever say that Chris and his family deserved the motor our church gave, but I do know that our gift, poured out abundantly like God’s grace, changed a family and gave them something to stand on.
This is in fact what I believe our church, and all churches for that matter, should be all about.
Not worrying about who deserves what – but responding to the grace you have received by pouring out love on others who deserve it as much as you did.
The truth of the matter is that you aren’t good enough to be here, as no one is good enough to be invited into the presence of God.
You can’t measure up, as even though you have left an old way of life behind in favor of a new one, perfection is something that you will never attain.
But thanks be to God – your imperfection is not something for you to hide away – as for you – God’s love is poured out abundantly – God’s grace has made you worthy – so there is no reason for you to fear anyone’s judgment, there is no reason to worry about not being good enough – all that is required is that you respond to God’s Grace by pouring out this abundant love to others who don’t deserve it either.
Amen.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Philemon
Philemon, page 845
Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother.
To Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow soldier and to the church that meets in your home; Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints. I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints.
Therefore, although in Christ I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, yet I appeal to you on the basis of love. I then, as Paul – an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus – I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me.
I am sending him – who is my very heart – back to you. I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel. But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do will be spontaneous and not forced. Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good – no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord.
So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back – not to mention that you owe me your very self. I do wish, brother, that I may have some benefit from you in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I write to you, knowing that you will do even more than I ask.
And one thing more: Prepare a guest room for me, because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers.
Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends you greetings. And so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke, my fellow workers.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.
Sermon
I’ve always struggled with sermon titles, but today’s may take the cake. Today’s sermon title, bold in its vagueness, doesn’t tell you much of anything, but does at least tell you which of the three main characters from this letter I want to focus on. But to get to Philemon, we first have to deal with the other two – Paul and Onesimus.
Paul, here referred to in verse one as a prisoner of Christ Jesus, is the Apostle Paul – that great letter writer who’s letters make up such a large part of our New Testament. He wasn’t one of the disciples, in fact his relationship to Christianity began as a persecutor of the faith, but something happened and his life changed forever – rather than a great opponent of Christianity, he became her greatest supporter, evangelizing to the most distant reaches of the Roman Empire, often imprisoned for his faith, always risking his life for the good of the Gospel. In the context of this letter, Paul is the letter writer – he seems to have known Philemon well, knows this congregation that meets in his house – but is far away and imprisoned with only the slave Onesimus to help him.
Onesimus is the subject of this letter – a run-away slave belonging to Philemon – we don’t know exactly how his and the Apostle Paul’s paths met, but we do know that a strong friendship resulted from their chance encounter. Not only is this letter about Onesimus, whether Philemon will allow him to return home or will exact some sever punishment for running away; Onesimus is almost certainly the deliverer of the letter.
Can you imagine what that must have been like – to go back – to return to the scene of the crime knowing that you might well be facing your own death as punishment for running away? Onesimus is walking into the unknown, all his hope riding on a letter that his master may not even take the time to read for his anger. Onesimus is at the mercy of Philemon, and while he goes to Philemon’s house he doesn’t know how he’ll be received – like returning home after storming out, Onesimus is like a husband returning home to his wife with his tail between his legs knowing that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness but is asking for it anyway – like an immigrant who leaves the stability of home for the possibility of a new life – Onesimus is crossing the desert into a new land trusting his well being to a hope for a better life knowing full well he could die or be sent back at any time. It’s a tremendous risk that Onesimus takes here – putting his life into the hands of this letter – all his hope resting in Philemon reading it and having the courage or mercy to do as Paul asks should he even take the time to read the letter.
We may assume that Philemon does at least read it – I can’t see how the letter would have made it to us if he had just thrown it away – and while Onesimus’ life does depend on it, so much is being asked of Philemon here.
In his time Christianity was a private matter – this church met in his house, not in a big cathedral out on the public square – and we may go so far as to assume that this is where Philemon expressed his faith – that he was a Christian in his home where it was safe to be a Christian, but out in the world he was someone else. There was business to be done out in the world, slaves to be bought and sold, money to be made.
This was a time when Christianity was a fledgling religion and so much worship was done in private where people could safely express their faith without fear of judgment or ridicule.
It’s not that Philemon didn’t want to come out with his faith – it’s not that he didn’t want to be a Christian outside his home as well as within it – but these were times when faith was a private matter one kept to himself.
Not so different than today then I suppose.
Not so different from our world where so many act one way in church and another outside these walls – not so different from our world where so many are obligated to confess that we are brothers and sisters in Christ knowing full well that in our world there are still hierarchies of difference – not so different from our world where every Sunday we pray the Lord’s Prayer, for the day when our debts will be forgiven just as we forgive our debtors, while out in the real world our credit card bills are due and interest is piling up – not so different from our world where we have learned to manage our faith, living it out at times and keeping it private at others.
So it was for Philemon. He knew Paul and so he must have heard Paul say more than once that in Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male and female – he may have even believed it in his heart while his body went on living the way the world told him he could – owning slaves, managing his household, exacting punishment on the disobedient to maintain the system of power that his wealth depended on.
It was no easy thing for Philemon to even consider doing what Paul asks – go and be merciful to one runaway and you might as well give all the others permission to do the same. But more than that – word would surely spread and next thing you know every slave in the city is testing the limits of their owner’s authority.
What Paul is asking Philemon to do isn’t just to be merciful to this one man, Paul is asking Philemon to make a statement, to make his faith public, to go out into the world with his faith – to not keep the truth of the gospel confined any longer.
There’s nothing easy about it. It may sound unrelated to us – but I think we all know that there’s nothing easy about going public with what we believe in any time or place – and to think that by doing so we could actually make a difference.
Not just saying that we love our neighbor as ourselves – but really loving our neighbor, the ones we haven’t even taken the time to meet, loving them as ourselves.
Not just saying that debts will be forgiven – but really letting debts go, letting real money go.
Not just saying that we are all one in Christ, that there is no Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male and female, but living that way, not just in church but in the public square, at the ballot box, out in the world where we all know well and good that all men created equal may sound good but asks a whole lot, maybe more than we are willing to give.
It’s a lot to go up against the whole world like that, but it’s what Paul is asking us to do. Not reduce Christianity to a simple, “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” but the full truth – that the Gospel calls us into direct opposition with systems that so many accept without question.
Enough about us – this letter is about Philemon – and we don’t know exactly how the story ends. We don’t know whether Philemon listens to Paul and treats Onesimus like a brother in Christ, or if Philemon listens to the world and treats Onesimus as the law commands.
“If he fails, it will be one more victory for rationality; one more victory for everyone who likes to see the world carry on spinning evenly and predictably; one more victory for common sense. It will be one more victory for all of us who never really tried.”1
1. Chris Heath, “An Army of One,” GQ, September 2010, 293.
Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother.
To Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow soldier and to the church that meets in your home; Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints. I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints.
Therefore, although in Christ I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, yet I appeal to you on the basis of love. I then, as Paul – an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus – I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me.
I am sending him – who is my very heart – back to you. I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel. But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do will be spontaneous and not forced. Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good – no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord.
So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back – not to mention that you owe me your very self. I do wish, brother, that I may have some benefit from you in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I write to you, knowing that you will do even more than I ask.
And one thing more: Prepare a guest room for me, because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers.
Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends you greetings. And so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke, my fellow workers.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.
Sermon
I’ve always struggled with sermon titles, but today’s may take the cake. Today’s sermon title, bold in its vagueness, doesn’t tell you much of anything, but does at least tell you which of the three main characters from this letter I want to focus on. But to get to Philemon, we first have to deal with the other two – Paul and Onesimus.
Paul, here referred to in verse one as a prisoner of Christ Jesus, is the Apostle Paul – that great letter writer who’s letters make up such a large part of our New Testament. He wasn’t one of the disciples, in fact his relationship to Christianity began as a persecutor of the faith, but something happened and his life changed forever – rather than a great opponent of Christianity, he became her greatest supporter, evangelizing to the most distant reaches of the Roman Empire, often imprisoned for his faith, always risking his life for the good of the Gospel. In the context of this letter, Paul is the letter writer – he seems to have known Philemon well, knows this congregation that meets in his house – but is far away and imprisoned with only the slave Onesimus to help him.
Onesimus is the subject of this letter – a run-away slave belonging to Philemon – we don’t know exactly how his and the Apostle Paul’s paths met, but we do know that a strong friendship resulted from their chance encounter. Not only is this letter about Onesimus, whether Philemon will allow him to return home or will exact some sever punishment for running away; Onesimus is almost certainly the deliverer of the letter.
Can you imagine what that must have been like – to go back – to return to the scene of the crime knowing that you might well be facing your own death as punishment for running away? Onesimus is walking into the unknown, all his hope riding on a letter that his master may not even take the time to read for his anger. Onesimus is at the mercy of Philemon, and while he goes to Philemon’s house he doesn’t know how he’ll be received – like returning home after storming out, Onesimus is like a husband returning home to his wife with his tail between his legs knowing that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness but is asking for it anyway – like an immigrant who leaves the stability of home for the possibility of a new life – Onesimus is crossing the desert into a new land trusting his well being to a hope for a better life knowing full well he could die or be sent back at any time. It’s a tremendous risk that Onesimus takes here – putting his life into the hands of this letter – all his hope resting in Philemon reading it and having the courage or mercy to do as Paul asks should he even take the time to read the letter.
We may assume that Philemon does at least read it – I can’t see how the letter would have made it to us if he had just thrown it away – and while Onesimus’ life does depend on it, so much is being asked of Philemon here.
In his time Christianity was a private matter – this church met in his house, not in a big cathedral out on the public square – and we may go so far as to assume that this is where Philemon expressed his faith – that he was a Christian in his home where it was safe to be a Christian, but out in the world he was someone else. There was business to be done out in the world, slaves to be bought and sold, money to be made.
This was a time when Christianity was a fledgling religion and so much worship was done in private where people could safely express their faith without fear of judgment or ridicule.
It’s not that Philemon didn’t want to come out with his faith – it’s not that he didn’t want to be a Christian outside his home as well as within it – but these were times when faith was a private matter one kept to himself.
Not so different than today then I suppose.
Not so different from our world where so many act one way in church and another outside these walls – not so different from our world where so many are obligated to confess that we are brothers and sisters in Christ knowing full well that in our world there are still hierarchies of difference – not so different from our world where every Sunday we pray the Lord’s Prayer, for the day when our debts will be forgiven just as we forgive our debtors, while out in the real world our credit card bills are due and interest is piling up – not so different from our world where we have learned to manage our faith, living it out at times and keeping it private at others.
So it was for Philemon. He knew Paul and so he must have heard Paul say more than once that in Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male and female – he may have even believed it in his heart while his body went on living the way the world told him he could – owning slaves, managing his household, exacting punishment on the disobedient to maintain the system of power that his wealth depended on.
It was no easy thing for Philemon to even consider doing what Paul asks – go and be merciful to one runaway and you might as well give all the others permission to do the same. But more than that – word would surely spread and next thing you know every slave in the city is testing the limits of their owner’s authority.
What Paul is asking Philemon to do isn’t just to be merciful to this one man, Paul is asking Philemon to make a statement, to make his faith public, to go out into the world with his faith – to not keep the truth of the gospel confined any longer.
There’s nothing easy about it. It may sound unrelated to us – but I think we all know that there’s nothing easy about going public with what we believe in any time or place – and to think that by doing so we could actually make a difference.
Not just saying that we love our neighbor as ourselves – but really loving our neighbor, the ones we haven’t even taken the time to meet, loving them as ourselves.
Not just saying that debts will be forgiven – but really letting debts go, letting real money go.
Not just saying that we are all one in Christ, that there is no Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male and female, but living that way, not just in church but in the public square, at the ballot box, out in the world where we all know well and good that all men created equal may sound good but asks a whole lot, maybe more than we are willing to give.
It’s a lot to go up against the whole world like that, but it’s what Paul is asking us to do. Not reduce Christianity to a simple, “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” but the full truth – that the Gospel calls us into direct opposition with systems that so many accept without question.
Enough about us – this letter is about Philemon – and we don’t know exactly how the story ends. We don’t know whether Philemon listens to Paul and treats Onesimus like a brother in Christ, or if Philemon listens to the world and treats Onesimus as the law commands.
“If he fails, it will be one more victory for rationality; one more victory for everyone who likes to see the world carry on spinning evenly and predictably; one more victory for common sense. It will be one more victory for all of us who never really tried.”1
1. Chris Heath, “An Army of One,” GQ, September 2010, 293.
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