Are you there, God?

July 28, 2019 * Luke 11:1-13

Today’s Gospel Lesson from Luke is a pretty familiar one; the Lukan “Lord’s Prayer” occupies the first few verses in this chapter, followed by a parable.

So what does all of this mean?

We begin with the disciples asking Jesus for instruction:  teach us to pray. 

Prayer was not foreign to the disciples, nor to Jesus.  Luke’s Gospel, more so than the other three, is more focused on prayer and has the most instances of Jesus praying.  The request here is “teach us to pray”.  It has been said that there are no atheists in foxholes, meaning prayer is native to humanity under stress; I tend to agree with this, with the caveat that there actually is a right and wrong way to pray (not as much in method, but in heart).  The model prayer here is noticeably different from the Matthean version of this prayer we say every Sunday…there’s nothing added or different, it’s just considerably shorter…by half, which makes us pause and look at the contents:

There is the adoration (Father, hallowed be your name).  I do want to take a moment and talk about something here…and that’s the use of the pronoun “Father”.  While we are used to addressing God as “Father” and “He”, we should be cautious when humanizing God…because the proper pronoun for God is, God.  The use of the term here of “Father” comes from the word “Abba”, which means father as a parent (not father as exclusively male).  Why does this matter?  While you may have (had) a great and wonderful relationship with your father, there are many who don’t/didn’t.  For many, addressing God as “male” or “Father” is painful…at some point in our lives, God has also been “Mother”, “Friend”, “Brother”, “Sister”….  Don’t fall into the trap of allowing this adoration to dictate the “maleness” of God; instead allow this to be to you what is meant to be…a loving, nurturing parent.  Look past the gender, and look toward the intimacy.  We end this part with the proclamation “may your name be kept holy” and may your rule be now.

Then we move into the supplications:  first, give us this day our daily bread.  The most direct and literal translation of this from the Greek is “provide for us what is necessary and required”.  That is followed by a confession, and another supplication to aide us in extending to others the same reconciliation we ask of God. 

Then comes the line that is surrounded in much debate: “And do not bring us to time of trial”, or deliver us from evil, as we know it.  This is such a troubling passage theologically that Pope Francis recently approved a wording change to reflect “do not let us fall into temptation”.  The word temptation (or “trial” here in the Lukan prayer) doesn’t mean what we think it means or in a way that we use it as Western thinkers in the 21^st Century.  The Greek here that is brought over as temptation is more accurately the opposite of preservation; which would make this phrase reflect “preserve us” or “lead us away from the things that would violate our preservation”.  It’s just that “temptation” was the closest the early scholars could get (it’s interesting to know that there are many Biblical phrases and teachings that aren’t and can’t be fully expressed in English, either because the original forms of the writing have no English translation, or we can’t know what the original means and have simply deduced a meaning based on context). 

So here we are taught to address God with adoration, we are to make our supplications (or requests) known to God, we are to seek reconciliation with God and others, and we are to ask God to preserve us.  Easy enough; right?

Well that leaves me with a lot of questions that are still unanswered….

The first part of this year I was car shopping, and I prayed that God would find me a nice car at a price I could afford, or I prayed for my payments to be manageable (specifically, I prayed for a 2019 Range Rover HSE with a base price of $105,000 for around $350 a month).  We all know that didn’t happen.  When I was young I would pray to be taller.  I’ve prayed for houses to sell and prayed cars would just get me where I needed to go.  I’ve prayed for acceptance, and friendship, and all sorts of things.  Sometimes my prayers were answered, sometimes they weren’t. 

Truth be told, I wasn’t asking for things that I needed (although at the time I probably would have argued that with you)…I was praying for the things I wanted.  Whether or not my prayers were answered seemed more akin to a game of chance, or left up to some mysterious formula that I had yet cracked.  So I’m at peace with driving a Kia instead of a Range Rover and am at peace because it’s reasonable to say I received what I needed instead of what I wanted.

But, we pray for other things, too.  What about when we’ve been laid off from our job unexpectedly (or fired), and haven’t been able to find another one.  Try as we might, we’ve missed making our house payment for a month…then two…and six months have gone by and foreclosure has started.  We pray to God for help…for preservation…for, something; something that never comes. 

What about your mom, or dad, who is fighting to live against cancer, against Alzheimer’s, against any number of diseases that threaten human life.  You pray…you pray with all your might, with every fiber of your being that they be delivered from this, because you need them.  Or, maybe it’s you that’s in this battle…and you’re crying out to God to live.  Jesus told his disciples “ask and it will be given, search and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened”.  We’re asking and we’ve been asking! 

Where are you, God?  Where were you when my marriage was failing?  Where were you when my mother or father were dying?  Where were you in the miscarriage?  Where were you?  Where were you in these horrible things that nearly destroyed us?

God was there, is here, and will be there.

But because we didn’t get what we felt God should give us or do for us, we as humankind need to reason it out and justify it…so we do.  Perhaps God allowed your parent, or child, or sibling die because “God needed another angel”, or “they had completed their mission”.  Maybe your suffering is preparing you for something harder that’s to come.  Even worse, “God is testing you with this suffering”, or “You’re going through this bad thing – this bad thing that God has brought on you – because God knows you can stand it, and someone, somewhere, will benefit from it. 

This, friends, is what we refer to as “theodicy”…and there’s your theology term of the day.

God does not bring us to what God won’t bring us through, because God does not do bad things to us.  God doesn’t take our loved ones because God needs more angels (because angels are created beings to begin with…when you and I transition to the Church Triumphant, it will not be as angels).  God isn’t heaping suffering upon you for any reason; God doesn’t deal in suffering. 

So, then, why doesn’t God grant our supplications?  The thing is, God does.  Our requests should be for what we need for preservation, and we have been given that.  The Holy Spirit.  Everything we need for our earthly walk in discipleship. 

We struggle with this because of our inherent priorities.  We need to be first, we need to be right, we need us.  We love us.  Even when we are the most aware of it, we remain self-absorbed.  That’s the crux of the brokenness of humanity.  So much that Rick Warren sold Six Million copies of a book that begins with the sentence “It’s not about you” (The Purpose Driven Life, p 17).

So should we continue to bring our needs, and our wants to God?  Yes; we absolutely should!  Go back to the beginning of this passage.  We are called to refer to God as “parent”…those of you who are parents, you know this bond, you know this intimacy.  There’s nothing more important, nothing you cherish more than your relationship with your children…and part of that is you want (and need) to be a part of their wants, and needs, and every facet of their lives; if you, as a good parent want this, imagine the desires of the One who is greater….

Martha, Martha

Luke 10:38-42

July 21, 2019

Today we continue our journey with Christ in Luke’s account of the Gospel, and just to get us caught up:  Jesus has recruited the 12, healed a man possessed by demons, commissioned the 70 missionaries to go out ahead of him, and told the parable of the Good Samaritan.  This Sunday, it’s important that we hang on to that lesson of the Good Samaritan from last Sunday…because I’m hoping you’ll see how it goes hand in hand with today’s lesson.

Today we find Jesus welcomed into the home of Mary and Martha (whom we also know as the Sisters to Lazarus, whom Jesus raises from the dead), which means we are in Bethany, although Luke never mentions the name of the village or their brother. 

And Martha does what a lot of us do when we have company…we get right away to the kitchen and get some food going.  Nothing fosters a sense of welcome and fellowship quite like breaking bread and sharing a meal.  Food has a way of breaking through barriers, doesn’t it?  Different commentaries vary here on how many people Martha is cooking for here:  it could be just Jesus, her sister, and herself, or if the disciples were with him (even though it’s not specifically named here that they are, most scholars believe that they would not have ventured  away from Jesus given their proximity to Jerusalem, and we know from the other synoptic Gospels and John that the disciples are present at the other accounts in this place)she could be  preparing food for (1) herself, (2), her sister Mary, (3) Jesus, (12) the disciples, and even if there’s no one else, that’s 18 people!  I have learned for myself that if I’m preparing a meal for 1 or 20, I’m probably going to make a mess either way, so Martha probably not only would appreciate some help…she probably needs the help!  Her sister lives there too, and she shares the same responsibility as a host to their guests; but where is Mary?  She isn’t setting the table, or  serving drinks, or doing anything to help with the meal.  She’s sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening to him.  

I don’t know about you, but I’m not so sure I’d be too happy about this.  Martha sure isn’t, and I’d bet her unhappiness is palpable.  She’s hitting every side of those mixing bowls with her spoon, slamming plates down on the table, sighing extra loudly…all in the hopes her sister, with whom she feels shares the responsibility, will get in here and help!  But instead of Mary responding to Martha’s passive-aggressive rantings in the kitchen, we see that she lets loose on Jesus, asking him why he doesn’t care that her sister isn’t in there helping…like she should.  

And then, the famous line…”Martha, Martha”.  “You’re worried and distracted by many things”.  

That’s kind of a low blow wasn’t it, Jesus?  I mean, here’s Martha, doing all she can to prepare a nice meal for you, and you tell her that her sister, Mary, has made a better choice?  Ouch.  

Now, growing up, we were taught that Mary chose the better portion because she didn’t get all “sass-mouthed” with Jesus…Mary chose to sit silently at the feet of Jesus, and while a woman’s portion was to be in the kitchen preparing the meal, it was never a woman’s part to clap back at a man.  I will say that Martha is braver than me in this instance, but that’s not with this story is about.  

Martha was doing what she was supposed to be doing, but not because she is a woman.  She welcomed Jesus into HER home, and by the ancient codes of hospitality, it would be assumed that the host (or owner of the home) would feed their guest.  Martha, then, would simply be doing what the norms of their culture would have her do, the social mandate as it were, as the owner of the home.  So, if that’s not the trouble, then what is?  

Is it jealousy that, perhaps, her sister allows herself to slow down and listen to Jesus?  Is it, she feels burdened, maybe being the “mother hen” who bears everyone’s responsibilities?  Is she mad, or even embarrassed, that her sister had been so bold to take the position of a man, to sit at the feet of a teacher?  Was she even mad at what she was mad about?  

And to make things worse, Jesus tells her that her sister was right, and she was wrong. Is that what any sibling wants to hear?  That they chose wrong and their brother or sister chose right?  Not really…and I doubt those words deescalated the situation any.  

So here, Jesus is praising Mary for being passive, and scolding Martha for being active.  But, just last Sunday didn’t we hear Jesus praise a Samaritan for his action in the face of the two religious leaders who choose to remain passive?  

So which is it?  Are we supposed to be like Mary, or like Martha?  Are we supposed to be passive or active?

I don’t think it’s either/or in this case.  So often the message of Jesus challenges our preconceived notions of things being black or white, one or the other, and strictly binary.  I think we’re supposed to be both Mary and Martha, because I think discipleship requires us to be both.

Yes, we are supposed to act.  We are supposed to love God and love neighbor, and we know that “love” here is an active verb which carries action, and in today’s text, we see this love carried out not for neighbor, not for self, but for God, in two very important ways.  

The Greek word “diakonia” appears in this text, which translates into service that is selfless.  Martha is carrying out this diakonia by preparing a meal for Christ; but she is not carrying out this service in the spirit of diakonia, which is selfless and giving.  Martha is caught up in the actions and the execution of this service.  She’s seemingly lost the heart of a servant, and Jesus notices.  Mary, however, is living into her love of God by attending to the ordinances, or hearing the (literal) Living Word.  She is taking the time from the countless distractions that vie for her time and she is setting them aside, and she is making time for God.  She is, with all her attention and all her focus, listening to every word, with a happy heart.  She is so eager to do this, that she is, in fact, rejecting the social policies that would prevent her from listening to Christ when she takes the coveted position at his feet.  

I’m reminded by the actions of Martha of myself in a way.  Have you ever used business as a way to hide?  For whatever reason, you start doing chores as a way not to socialize, or to distract you from a difficult task at hand (it has taken me all week to write this sermon, because this text intimidated me, and every time I would sit down I would catch myself wandering off, wanting to rearrange my bookshelves or write October’s bulletins).  

Sometimes we as churches get so caught up in action and doing that we forget why serve…and then we get distracted and start going through the motions simply for the preservation of the institution.  

Before we can know where to serve, we have to listen.  Before we can know how to serve, we have to listen.  Listening shows how to help in the way help is actually needed, not the way we want to help.  And before we can serve, we have to have something to serve, and we get that through giving God some “prime time”, or some full attention, if you will.  By reading – and not just reading, but truly studying – the Word, by praying, and by worshiping here.  We come to church, then we act. 

John Wesley said (paraphrasing) there’s no piety without mercy and no mercy without piety…and I kind of think he’s right.  

In the weeks ahead, make a covenant with yourself to give God that “better part”. 

Are we good neighbors?

July 14, 2018 * Luke 10:25-37

The Good Samaritan…possibly the most widely known of all the parables, if not of the entire Bible.  And I am sure that everyone here has heard it at least once.  It’s so familiar, and so comfortable…and that can be a dangerous place, because we begin to take on a sort of view of superiority toward the comfortable.  So what, then, can we learn from this text?  More than the simple phrase of “Strangers good, Clergy bad”, I hope….

Let’s begin by looking at what we’ve been presented.  We have the “reality”, where Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem.  This particular phrase, “set his face toward”, explicitly means he is on the journey to Jerusalem; his final journey that ends with his crucifixion.  This story is chronologically in order with last couple of Sundays.  Jesus encounters “a lawyer”; but remember, a lawyer would have been a religious leader, because their law was their religion and their religion was their law, so this man being a lawyer, was probably what you and I know as a Scribe.  He would have been an absolute expert of the texts.  He “tests” Jesus; this word “test” in the Greek is the same word used to describe the temptations of Satan during Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness; this has led many scholars to believe that this lawyer was directly challenging Jesus…maybe he had self-sanctifying reasons, maybe he had been asked to do this; maybe it was a reasonable question, coming from a legitimate place of theological concern, like to which confessions should I give assent?  Should I be sprinkled or immersed at baptism?  Are there other necessary actions that must be undertook to secure salvation? 

Jesus answered his question with a question:  What is written in the law and how do you interpret it?  This practice of answering a question with a question, while quite aggravating in our culture, is a pretty standard thing in the Jewish culture.  Where we like to think of Biblical interpretation as an end-sum game, Judaism does not.  It’s common practice to gather around the table, break bread, and question, debate, and respect the views of others surrounding the sacred texts.  Jewish persons believe there’s always something we can learn from it, and that learning more often than not comes from the perspective of others.  And we see that, in this case, the returned question does foster deeper study.

The law expert quotes, appropriately, the law:  it says in Leviticus you are to 1) love the Lord your God with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and 2) love your neighbor, and one that’s missed by most people, 3) love yourself.  Jesus validates his answer; and the expert volleys a question back:  so, who is my neighbor?

Who is your neighbor?  Who is my neighbor?  Who is our neighbor?  Apparently this is not as easily answered as we think….

To the expert, Jesus tells a story (or a parable).  There’s a man going down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho.  The original text doesn’t indicate that he was going “down the road” the same way we say “I’m going to head on down the road”, instead this indicated that the road wound in a downward path…from a higher place to a lower place.  This road between these 2 cities was about 17 miles and notoriously dangerous.  It was full of curves and twists, which gave robbers ample place to hide and ambush unsuspecting travelers (both Jerusalem and Jericho were wealthy cities with wealthy people traveling this road often).  So this man...we don’t know how old he is, what nationality he is, we don’t know if he was savvy or foolish…what we do know is he fell into the hands of robbers who robbed him, right down to his clothes, and left him “half dead”, or by the Greek term, appearing dead. 

And, three people encounter him after he fell into the hands of the robbers…I’ll lump the first two together because they behave in the exact same manor and they’re both cut from the same cloth…they’re both religious leaders.  We’re told that both this priest and Levite are traveling this road when they encounter this man, and they both looked at him, and moved over to the other side of the street to avoid this man.  And we love to tell ourselves that they had to move away from them, because as we know he did appear dead, and if he was dead and they touched him…indeed if even their shadow touched him, they would be unclean and wouldn’t be fit to do their jobs at the temple….  But, the text tells us that they were both traveling “down” the road in the same fashion as this man, from Jerusalem to Jericho, so there’s really no concern over defilement here, and even though touching a dead body would render them unclean, they were, under the law, required to care for those in distress, even the dead, if they were first on the scene.  However they directed their paths as far from this man’s messiness as possible. 

At this point in the story, this would be where the hero of the story would show up:  the third person.  And I’m sure everyone within earshot was anxious to hear about the valiant Jew who saved the day for this mystery man; so imagine their shock and disgust when Jesus revealed that this third person was a Samaritan.  Samaritans and Jews hated each other with great passion and for many reasons.  When this Samaritan encountered this man, broken and close to dead, on this road, he was moved with compassion.  For whatever reason, he saw this man, and decided to stop.  He stops, on this dangerous road, and he doesn’t immediately load this man up and get him to safety, he puts himself in harm’s way by rendering aid to this man first.  He pours wine on the man’s wounds to disinfect them, followed by oil to dress them.  He placed this man on his own animal, and checked this man into an inn, and gave the inn keeper 2-day’s worth of wages to cover the cost of this man’s recovery. 

“So which of these three”, Jesus asks, “was a neighbor to this man?”  The law expert, choosing his words carefully, answers “the one who showed him mercy”; he couldn’t bring himself to say Samaritan. 

The context of this story can obscure the meaning, so I invite you to look at it through a contemporary lens, first as the person in the ditch, then as the person who took action. 

Anytime we process information, it’s only naturally that we inject ourselves into the scenario or scene.  Often times we are tempted to align ourselves with the man on the road, who’s been robbed, beaten, and is all but dead.  We easily see ourselves in need of help, needing someone to just stop.  Amy-Jill Levine is a Jewish Scholar, a Professor at Vanderbilt’s School of Religion, and an author.  In her book, The Misunderstood Jew, she poses the question, “Is there anyone, from any group, about whom we’d rather die than acknowledge ‘She offered help’ or ‘He showed compassion’?”  She continues, “More, is there any group whose members might rather die than help us?  If so, then we know how to find the modern equivalent for the Samaritan”.  And, she’s right.  That’s when this gets real personal, and as much as it scares me and I don’t want to, it’s my job to make it personal.  If a Muslim walked by you, knowing the things you’ve said about Muslims and Islam, them knowing the things you’ve said about Muslims and Islam, would they stop?  What about a person with brown skin?  What about a convicted felon?  A gay or transgender person?  Who in your life have you shown hatred toward, that if they passed you on the street, gravely injured, might not stop?  Because that, is the modern day Samaritan.  The way Samaritans of Christ’s day were treated was no different than those people I just listed out.  They were hated, mocked, discriminated against…likely by the very person he encountered; but instead of letting that’s person of him dictate how he acted, instead of allowing his anger toward the things that person had said or done against him and his identity as a Samaritan, he did the one thing that probably made him an outcast in his community:  he showed mercy.  He showed justice.  He showed compassion.  Potentially…to his enemy.

I have really struggled writing this sermon, because if you examine this text with the seriousness it deserves, pretty quickly you’ll wind up with a lump in your throat, and as the preacher, I was thinking of ways to get out of doing this.  With great duty comes great responsibility…and I have to be more concerned with your eternal lives than making you happy or keeping you from getting mad at me…which means, we have to have hard conversations….and today is one of those times. 

Instead of identifying with the mysterious man in the ditch, think of yourself as the Samaritan.  Think of yourself as the person with the means to offer help to someone else…the person who has the opportunity to “love your neighbor as yourself”.  I don’t think anyone will disagree that this is the point Jesus is making with this parable.  There is, of course, one giant caveat:  Neighbors do not recognize certain things like social class, race/nationality, gender, sexual orientation, citizenship status, or any of the other qualifiers we use to calculate our actions. 

But, mercy is never the conduct of a calculating heart, just like eternal life is never the reward for doing prescribed duties or following harmful policies.

Right now, we have a situation in our country where children are being separated from their parents, are housed in detention centers around the country.  I’m not here to debate the conditions, the news coverage, or any of the distractions we’re bombarded with; the fact is, there are families who are risking everything, even their own lives, to escape the horrors of their home.  They are coming to us because we are the land of opportunity, with our amber waves of grain and our purple mountains’ majesty.  They are coming, because we have the space, the means, and the potential for the compassion to offer them justice and mercy.  These are facts.  And when they survive, when they make it to US soil, they’re detained, and honestly, right away if they’re lucky, and not later on through some raid or other means.  Then we separate them out into these for-profit detention facilities.  Our records are kept so poorly that there’s slim chance of reuniting them, if they survive their detention.  Children; the older ones, 12 or 13, caring for the younger, some newborn.  We deny them soap, toothpaste, and even beds and blankets, because “the law” didn’t detail out that we do this.  We need policy to tell us when to show mercy, and how much.  We know this is wrong.  You know this is wrong. 

The argument is:  they shouldn’t be here, or they should come in legally.  That’s both easy and convenient for us to say, being that we are here and at no risk of having that taken away from us.  We say we should take care of our people here at home first; and my personal favorite is:  we have homeless veterans who go to sleep hungry.  Yes, we do.  So what are you doing to remedy that?  How are you showing them mercy?  How are you bringing justice to that horrible injustice?  If we were taking care of those things, I might be inclined to go with one of these arguments…but the fact is, we aren’t.  We choose to turn an apathetic eye to any and all these situations, citing reason and excuses to justify our calculated callousness.  We, ladies and gentlemen, are the priest and the Levite.  We are highly religious people who fail to act in compassion.

At the end of the parable Jesus tells the legal expert to “do this and you will live”.  It isn’t a suggestion, a recommendation, or under the pretense of convenience and popularity.  This is the key to eternal life.  Being a neighbor is defined as active, not passive. 

It is time we demolish the boundaries that keep us from going, and doing likewise.  In full disclosure, those boundaries are going to be really comfortable, and I guarantee you’re married to them more than you’re aware. 

This is one of those texts that really, really discourage me.  It reminds me just how much I’ve missed the mark.  It demonstrates to me just how far away I am from perfection…as difficult as that may be for you to imagine (laugh…it’s a joke).  But just as the priest and Levite still belong to the covenant people, we too are grafted into that same covenant.  And even though my love fails, God’s love never fails.  Even though I will fail to show compassion to my neighbor, God never fails to show me the compassion I deny others.  Even though I group people into groups, assigning values that make them worthy of grace, God’s grace knows no boundaries.

And for that, thanks be to God.