The Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost - October 20

Perseverance
Jeremiah 31:27-34
Psalm 119:97-104
2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5
Luke 18:1-8

Perseverance seems to be the word of the day throughout today’s propers. Perseverance is a theme in the collect and in all of the Scripture readings for this Sunday. Perseverance.

It’s in the collect: Almighty and everlasting God… preserve the works of your mercy, that your Church throughout the world may persevere with steadfast faith in the confession of your Name…

The prophet Jeremiah is all about perseverance. As gloomy as he often is, his fundamental message is all about persevering in hope and in the confidence of God’s love for God’s people. He lived and prophesied in difficult times for the Hebrew people, and he certainly didn’t shy away from laying bare their plight or threatening the dire consequences of their lack of faithfulness or righteousness. But he never lost his conviction of God’s love for God’s own people. And in today’s reading he encourages them to persevere in hope. For the days are SURELY coming when a new covenant will be restored. The days are SURELY coming when God will plant seeds and God’s people will grow and flourish again. Persevere in hope.

At first glance, you may not see the theme of perseverance in the psalm. But I would say it embodied in the very psalm itself. Note that we read verses 97 – 104. It continues on through verse 176. Psalm 119 is the longest of the psalms and the longest chapter in the entire Hebrew Bible. It is an acrostic. Each letter of the Hebrew Bible, and there are 22, is given 8 lines of poetry, each of the 8 lines beginning with that letter. The eight verses we read together this morning are actually four lines of Hebrew poetry. So we read one half of one of the 22 sections in the acrostic.

Furthermore, one scholar writes: “The poetic language is highly formulaic and rather routine. It also should be said that some of the acrostic composition is mechanical… the text is repetitious and the language stereotypical…” Praying this psalm is an act of perseverance. And remember, the psalms have always been a part of worship. The people pray them together in worship.

We’ve been reading our way through 2 Timothy for several weeks. In today’s passage the author is winding up with final exhortations, including the charge: “Proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable…” Be persistent in proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ. Persevere no matter what.

And the Gospel parable provides encouragement to persevere in prayer. Be persistent even in the face of disappointment. Do not hesitate to “bother” God with your prayers over and over and over again. Remember, Jesus says, God cares for you so much more than some atheist, unjust judge. God IS listening. The efficacy of your prayers may not come in the way or time that you might wish. But persevere in prayer.

Perseverance has been identified as a Christian virtue. In the Roman Catholic accounting, it is one of the seven virtues, although often described as “diligence.” It is the opposite of sloth.

Perseverence. It’s about not giving up. Not losing heart. Not letting indifference overcome you.

Persevere! All of these readings and prayers encourage us today to persevere. Just as they encouraged earlier people of faith to persevere.

Which leads me to consider another message that these readings offer to us, along with the general call to persevere. These readings remind us that God’s people… faithful people have found themselves in situations requiring perseverance… for ever. That’s worth remembering.

Jeremiah lived in the 6th century BC. The psalms are difficult to date; it may possibly be older than Jeremiah’s words. 2 Timothy and Luke of course come from the early days of the Christian church. The collect is derived from a liturgical work known as the Gelasian sacramentary. The oldest manuscript dates from the 8th century.

All of which is to say: We should not expect the Christian life, the life of faith, to be free of situations calling for perseverance. It never has been before. God’s people have always needed to persevere. The life of faith is not about our individual comfort or immediate happiness. It is about more than me and more than now.

Throughout the recorded history of faithful people, there have been times that try women’s souls. There have been times of social or political upheaval that threaten God’s people.

On a lighter note, the psalm reminds us that there have always been times in corporate worship that at least some people find boring or not edifying. Sometimes worship requires perseverance.

 Proclaiming the Gospel has always been challenging. And even Jesus’ immediate followers needed encouragement to persevere in prayer.

So we should not expect our own faith journey to be at all times easy, cheery or joyous. These reminders are probably especially important for us. We live in a highly individualized society. It’s all about me… my wants, my choices, my hopes, my rights. And, probably more than in any other time, we live with the expectation of instant everything. Not just instant gratification, instant everything. It’s about me. Now.

These lessons, taken as a whole remind us, that we should not expect the Christian life, the life of faith, to be free of situations calling for perseverance. It never has been.

So persevere, trusting in God’s abiding, unfailing presence and care. Persevere in faith.

The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost - October 13

Healed, Cleansed and Whole
Luke 17:11-19

I should begin by saying I am not a Greek scholar. I took one year of Greek in seminary, but it didn’t really stick. I retained just enough, though, to be able to use some resource books on Greek. I’m going to talk a little bit about some of the words in today’s Gospel, which was originally written in Greek.

It’s the story of the ten lepers. Jesus is entering a town and on the outskirts of the town ten lepers cry out to him for compassion. He responds compassionately, telling them to go show themselves to the priests. As they obey, they are cured. One of the ten, a Samaritan, returns to Jesus giving thanks and praising God.

Three different Greek words describe what happened to the lepers. In our translation those words occur as “made clean,” “healed,” and the leper who returns to give thanks is “made well.”

As they obediently responded to Jesus’ instructions, all ten lepers were “healed.” The word is used in a medical sense. Certainly in Jesus’ day disease and healing and medicine were understood very differently than they are today. Nonetheless, this word indicates relief from the symptoms of a disease.

Because that disease was leprosy, to be healed also meant to be made clean. Interestingly, the Greek word translated “made clean” is the root of our words cathartic or catharsis, but in this context it refers specifically to ritual or cultic cleansing.

As you may know, in Jesus’ day to have leprosy meant you were labeled as “unclean” by the religious laws and authorities. Mistakenly, people at that time thought of leprosy as highly contagious. Lepers were forced to stay away from others and if anyone approached them, they were required to call out “unclean, unclean.” This meant, of course, that they were excluded from general society, excluded even from the lives of their families, and excluded from the meaning and comfort of all corporate worship. Excluded from family, societal and religious life.

To be made clean was to have a life lived with the company of others restored.

All ten lepers were healed and cleansed. One, seeing that he had been healed and cleansed, stopped, and returned to Jesus, doing two things. He offered himself, prostrating himself in thanksgiving and he gave praise to God. Praise and thanksgiving. Our words doxology and eucharist. Giving voice to praise and offering oneself in thanksgiving.

And the leper who spoke his praise and offered thanksgiving was made “well.” The Greek word translated “well” in this passage is a word that is sometimes translated “saved” or “made whole.” In the Gospels it is most frequently used to describe a result of Jesus’ healings and it clearly means more than a medical cure… it means wholeness of person. Being found or put right. Sometimes it refers to what will happen in the Kingdom of God. But most of the time, it refers to something that happens in the present tense to those who are healed by Jesus.

For me wholeness seems to be maybe the best translation.

As I was reading about this passage I came across a wonderful definition of wholeness. A little different from what I might have said before. In this definition wholeness is not so much a matter of restoration or repair or even healing. It is a state of being where everything unholy is pushed out. A state of total holiness. All else is shut out of our person except the holy context. We are at one with God and one another, in a sublime moment of grace. I can almost visualize it physically. Holiness within us expanding until we are wholly holy.

By God’s grace, this transformation to wholeness to holiness happens when we are actively engaged in singing praise to God and in offering ourselves to God in thanksgiving. These are the transformative acts that bring about wholeness. When we give ourselves to praise of God and thanksgiving for God’s grace and blessing and presence with us in Christ we become holy and whole.

And we have cause and opportunity to praise God and offer ourselves in thanksgiving. It is right to give God thanks and praise. Always and Everywhere. No matter what is going on in our lives or in the world around us. Sing praise. If you need words, whether you sing them or say them, check out the praise section of the Hymnal. And come to the Eucharist, offering ourselves, our souls and bodies, all that we are in this action of thanksgiving for Christ’s living presence with us.

The leper who gave voice to praise of God and offered himself in thanksgiving was made whole.

As we praise God and offer ourselves in thanksgiving, by God’s grace we, too, will be made whole.

The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost - October 6

You Can Do a Lot with a Little Faith
Luke 17:5-10

What would you do if you had more faith? If all of a sudden you were given a lot more faith, what would you do?

I imagine all of us have at least fleetingly considered the “if you won the lottery” question. (Do remember that the church has consistently opposed gambling as a means of church or government fund raising…) If all of a sudden I came into a heap of money, what would I do with it?

So what would you do with more faith if you had it? What would you do?

The disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith. It’s hard to know exactly what prompted their request. In this portion of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has most recently been talking about forgiveness and the need to forgive the sins of a fellow disciple over and over again. Maybe the disciples just felt overwhelmed with the whole discipleship thing…

Regardless of the disciples’ motivation, most of us would probably join in their request. Increase our faith. Although I expect most of us would voice that request for more faith in the hope that it would bolster our belief. If I had more faith my belief or my trust in God would be more secure.

But faith is more than a body of belief; it is a verb. It is what we do. It is how we live our lives as disciples of Christ. Faith is what we do. At the very least asking the question: what would you do if you had more faith? reminds us that faith is about what we do.

 Jesus tells the disciples they really don’t need any more faith to do what disciples do.

He seems to say two related, but slightly different things. (1) You can do a lot with a little faith. And (2) the little things you do faithfully count for a lot.

It only takes faith the size of a mustard seed, the size of a pin head, to move mountains or mulberry trees. You can do a lot with a little faith. And by faithfully doing the little things of daily life, serving God and others obediently within the context of your daily life… by doing these little things, you are doing what disciples do, and that counts for a lot.

 As one commentator (David Lose) says, “Faith, in other words, is doing what needs to be done right in front of you and this, Jesus says, the disciples can already do. Folks who feel daunted by discipleship need to hear that sometimes faith can be pretty ordinary…. it really doesn’t take all that much faith to be, well, faithful.”

The little things of daily life, done faithfully, count for a lot.

• doing our work (The tasks or vocation of life. Doing them is good stewardship, and often the means of caring for others. That counts a lot.) 
• caring for those in need (Those near to us and more remote. That counts for a lot.) 
• protecting the vulnerable (Protecting those who are bullied or marginalized in any way. That’s the work of a disciple, and it counts for a lot.) 
• reaching out to the lonely 
• befriending the friendless (Doing those things counts for a lot.) 
• keeping the world going (Whatever that means in your life. Keeping God’s world going. That counts for a lot.) 
• contributing to the common good. 

 The little acts of daily living. Acts that any person can choose to do just by deciding to do them. But choosing to do them “faithfully” as a disciple makes a difference, I think. We “partner” ourselves with God in doing God’s work in the world. And that makes a difference at least for us. Then what we do is a part of God’s generosity, God’s love. And we have the resources and reserves of God to draw upon. And, for what it’s worth, when we do these little things faithfully, we’ll find that other aspects of faith—our belief and sense of relationship with God—will grow and increase.

 Like the disciples, we have the faith that we need to do what disciples do. With a little faith you can do a lot. And the little things of life, done faithfully, count for a lot when done as disciples of Christ.

The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 22

God Commends Jerks (and other deeper moral quandaries)
Luke 16:1-13 

Over the last few days I have read multiple commentaries and online sermon resources pertaining to today’s Gospel. Everyone of them agrees. This is the worst of all of Jesus’ parables. And probably the most difficult to preach on.

It is often called the parable of the dishonest steward. Although in the translation we heard, he is called a manager rather than a steward. Some people, trying to put a more positive spin on it, call it the parable of the shrewd or clever steward.

Writing about this parable in his Interpretation commentary on Luke Fred Craddock writes: “Many Christians have been offended by this parable… some find it a bit disturbing that Jesus would find anything commendable in a person who has acted dishonestly. Why that should prove offensive is not fully clear, for everyone is a mixed bag of the commendable and the less commendable.” He’s right, of course, all of us are a mixture of the commendable and the less commendable.

But I sympathize with the people who are offended by this parable, even if “offended” is a pretty strong word. I think I probably find it easier to believe that God will forgive a profound sinner, an adulterer or the proverbial axe murderer… I find it easier to swallow that God would forgive a profound sinner than that God would commend a dishonest, self-serving jerk.

Which got me thinking about jerks.

 One on-line comment directed me to a book on the Parables of Grace by Robert Farrar Capon. He was a pretty well-known Episcopal priest and author. His was a name I grew up with because my mother had his book, “The Supper of the Lamb.” It’s an interwoven series of theological musings and recipes. I still turn to it for my Cuban bread recipe. He died September 5. So I’ve recently been reading glowing tributes. But he was a jerk. At least the one time I met him.

The first parish I served in Houston was part of a group of parish who brought in relatively high profile speakers each year for their Lenten programs. The speakers would give presentations at each parish in turn. As a junior member of the clergy staff, it often fell to me to provide taxi service, driving the speaker from one parish to another. The minute Capon got in my car, without asking, he lit up. He started smoking! And then his presentation to our family-oriented Lenten supper was full of gratuitous profanity—the only purpose apparently to make him appear hip. He was a self-centered jerk. But I trust he feasts now in the presence of God at the heavenly banquet.

God most likely does commend jerks. Which is a good thing for all of us. God commends jerks. Not because even most jerks also have some good or commendable qualities. And I don’t think God only commends jerks when they do commendable things, even though that seems to be the implication of today’s parable. God commends jerks because God loves them.

My personal problem with this parable is a little different. I can get past God commending a dishonest jerk. I get stuck somewhere else.

Many commentators writing about this parable note what it was the steward actually did: He forgave others’ debts. (Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.) And he built relationships. These are what we call kingdom work. He is doing the work of God’s kingdom. But his means and his motives stunk. His means were dishonest and his motives self-serving.

So is Jesus saying: The end justifies the means??? Is Jesus saying: As long as you’re doing kingdom work it doesn’t matter how or why you are doing it? That’s not the moral world I want to live in. That’s not the moral landscape I personally accept… one where the end, even if the end is kingdom work, always justifies the means.

Parables are meant to stir us up, to unsettle us and help us see things in a new way. They are meant to provoke us to explore our perceptions. So this is where I end up with this parable this year:

1) God probably does commend jerks.

 2) I cannot automatically assume that my own “moral landscape” is the same as God’s. What I think of as good ethical behavior may not be the same as God’s perspective. I can’t presume to project my morals or ethics onto God, no matter how “good” I think they may be. It is hard for me to accept, as this parable seems to teach, that the ends justify the means. But I have to accept my personal confusion and discomfort that this parable provokes in me. And that confusion and discomfort challenges me to consider that my moral landscape and God’s may not be the same.