The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 25

No Chasms

Proper 21

1 Timothy 6:6-19

Luke 16:19-31

The parable of the rich man and Lazarus.  Jesus tells this parable only Luke’s Gospel.  It’s based on a folk tale that exists in many cultures—the story of one who is rich and one who is poor and how their fortunes are reversed in death.  This parable follows only a few verses after the Gospel passage from last week.  Jesus is still talking about money.  Last week’s parable and this week’s begin with exactly the same words:  “There was a rich man.”

Last week’s parable was very complex and difficult to interpret.  At first glance, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus seems pretty straightforward.  But have you really thought it through?  Does it really sat that if you want to get to heaven you have to be like Lazarus?  Really?  Really like Lazarus?  Poor to the point of starvation and disease?

Throughout the Gospels again and again Jesus does show a preference for the poor.  And he warns against the perils of wealth for those who seek righteousness.  We heard those warnings, too, in today’s Epistle from First Timothy.  Beware an overweening love of money.

But this parable is not about poverty or wealth as the determining factor for where you go after death.   The primary message of this parable is not to say that the rich will always be tormented in death and the poor will receive comfort.

Thinking about that reminded me of competitive wrestlers who are always trying to shave just enough ounces off their body weight so that they can retain their strength but compete in a less competitive weight class.  If I can just get my net worth down another $2,451.63, hopefully it won’t affect my lifestyle, but then I will be poor enough achieve rest in the bosom of Abraham after I die.  That’s not the point of the parable.

If we are meant to identify with anyone in this parable, it is not Lazarus, nor the rich man.  Neither of them is presented as a model for us to follow.  If we are anyone in this parable, we are the rich man’s siblings.  They, after all, like us, are still living.

The message to them of this parable is:  Don’t build chasms between yourselves and others.  Do not spend your life building chasms between yourselves and other people.

The chasm is an important part of the parable.  Abraham says to the rich man:  “between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.”  The chasm has already been fixed.  Now it cannot be crossed.

The rich man built that chasm in life.  The rich man spent his life building the chasms between himself and Lazarus.  That’s what he did wrong.  That’s the message of this parable…  the message the rich man’s living siblings need to hear. 

In life, the rich man built the chasm between himself and Lazarus.  Every time he walked passed Lazarus at his door without really seeing him.  And that would have been often.  Every time the rich man didn’t really see Lazarus, his neighbor, he built the chasm.  Every time the rich man failed to show compassion for Lazarus’ needs, he built the chasm.  Even in death, the rich man is dismissive of Lazarus, treating him like a slave…  a water boy or messenger.  The rich man built and fixed the chasm.

Don’t build chasms, Jesus says. 

This parable is mostly about money, about a chasm defined by what today we would probably call income disparity, or economic injustice.  As Abraham says, on Jesus’ behalf, Moses and prophets are pretty clear in their teaching about economic injustice.

The Law of Moses as it is written in the book of Leviticus says:  share the harvest with the poor and the transient.

The Law of Moses as it is written Deuteronomy says:  Open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and poor in the land.

Or listen to the Prophets.  Isaiah says:  “Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked cover him… “

As we consider the meaning of this parable for us in our lives today we might interpret it even more broadly.  Every time we fail to see someone else as fully a child of God… we build a chasm between ourselves and them.  Whenever we are indifferent, or overlook, someone else, or treat them (even passively) as somehow less…   we build a chasm.   Whatever the reason…  race, age, intellectual ability, economic status.  Whenever we fail to see or fail to treat someone else as being fully a child of God, we build a chasm.

No chasms, Jesus says.  No chasms, in this life or the next.  No chasms between the children of God.

The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 18

Love or Anxiety

Proper 20

Luke 16:1-13

Collect

The parable we heard in this morning’s Gospel is pretty universally considered to be Jesus’ hardest parable.  Hardest to interpret.  There is no way to understand it that seems palatable or fits with our image of Jesus.

There is a general principle in Biblical interpretation that says, basically, that the harder or less comfortable a passage is, the more likely it is to be original or authentic.  No one would have made up something like this that makes Jesus seem so strange…  “the master commended the dishonest manager…”  “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth…”

So Jesus most likely did really tell this parable.  So we should grapple with it.  We should work to try to understand what these words mean for us in our lives.  But the best place to do that is in group Bible study.  This is a complicated, difficult parable.  Study of it needs to be active… interactive, so we can explore it piece by piece and in discussion with others.  We have two Bible study groups here at St. John’s…

I have preached on it in the past (For example, HERE).  I’m not going to today.  I want to focus on the collect.

It’s a particularly good prayer and it has nostalgic interest for me.  It was one of the favorite prayers of an old friend of mine, sort of a surrogate grandmother.  I would visit her and we would do jigsaw puzzles together.  She could quote this prayer word for word and found it a good prayer to live by.

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure.

It is an ancient prayer, although apparently new to us in this Prayer Book.  It’s origin is in the 6^th century.  As the Prayer Book commentary says, it  “reflects the tumultuous times of the barbarian invasions…”  It was written at a time when Christians faced serious and violent threats from invading armies.

Like so much of our Prayer Book, its origin is in the Bible.  Colossians 3:2 reads:

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.”

What really catches my attention in this collect is that it sets up anxiety and love as opposites.  Anxiety about worldly things is at one end of a spectrum.  Love of things heavenly at the other end.  Those are the alternatives.  One or the other.  Anxiety or love. 

One way that makes sense to me is to think of love as cherishing what we have, being grateful for what we have been given.  Anxiety fears to lose what we have.  Anxiety is all about fear.  Fear of loss.

What are you anxious about?  We all have anxieties, large or small.  What is the source of your anxiety?  What are you afraid to lose?

Is it money or possessions?  Mammon?

Are you anxious about losing your health?

Do you fear the loss of your security?  Any kind of security.

Are you afraid of losing someone you love?

Whatever you are afraid to lose…  give it to God.  Place whatever you are anxious about fully into the care and love of God.

I expect for most of us if we are anxious about losing money it might be a good idea to take this instruction literally.  And give more of our money to God.  But mostly I’m talking something spiritual.  Entrust our anxieties to God’s care.  Place those things we are anxious about into the realm of God’s love.

And there’s a wonderful thing:  When we give something or someone to God, we don’t lose them.  We don’t lose what we give to God.  We only lose the anxiety. 

There’s a wonderful prayer we often say at funerals.  It’s not the Prayer Book, but iti’s been around for a long time.  We pray:  Almighty God, “What is thine is ours always, if we are thine.”

What is God’s is ours, if we are God’s. 

If we are God’s.  That’s the other piece of all of this.  We place our fears and anxieties in God’s care.  But we also place ourselves in God’s care.  We are God’s beloved.  We are cherished and cared for by God.

The image that comes to me is a familiar one.  In my imagination I’m standing behind a child and an adult walking along.  The adult is a parent or someone dear to the child.  And they come upon some small danger or uncertainty.  The curb at a street crossing, a large crowd, something loud or frightening.  And the child instinctively reaches up to take the adult’s hand.

We are that child and the adult is God.  Reach for God.  Cling to God.  Hold fast to God.  Hang onto God’s heavenly love, which will never pass away.

The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 11

The Really, Really, Really Attentive Shepherd

Proper 19

Luke 15:1-10

Sometimes the titles that we have assigned to Jesus’ parables really get us off track.  The two parables we heard this morning are usually called the Parable of the Lost Sheep and the Parable of the Lost Coin.  Some of you may have heard in the past that it would be better to call them the parables of the “found” sheep and coin.  And that would be somewhat better, but it’s still not great.

Because the parables aren't primarily about the sheep or the coin.  The sheep and the coin don’t do anything in these parables.  They certainly don’t repent.  To turn these parables into allegories about a sheep or a coin that repents totally misses the mark.

In her book on Jesus’ parables (Short Stories by Jesus:  The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi), Amy-Jill Levine focuses on how Jesus’ parables would have been heard by first century Jewish listeners.

It is unlikely a first-century Jewish listener would hear [these] two parables and conclude that they have something to do with sheep repenting or coins confessing.  Sheep eat, sleep, poop, produce wool, and give milk—but an awareness of sin or a sense of eschatological salvation is not part of ovine nature.

The sheep and the coin are totally passive in these parables.  They are just props.  It is the shepherd and the woman who are active, who are the focus of the stories.

A commentator writing on these parables notes (David Schnasa Jacobsen, HERE):  Action verbs predominate for the shepherd --- leave, go after, finds, lays it on his shoulders, rejoices, comes home, and calls together his friends. The same holds for the woman: light a lamp, sweep the house, search carefully, finds, and calls together her friends.

Jesus’ parables are meant to startle us, to bring us up short.  They start in a familiar place but end with an unexpected twist.  They invite us into a familiar world and then reorient our vision.

So what is startling about these parables?  What is unexpected?

That the missing sheep and coin are noticed, that their absence is recognized.  Equally unexpected is that this one sheep and single coin are worth moving heaven and earth to find.

I don’t know how much experience you have with flocks of sheep.  I see them every summer.  Try to picture a flock of a hundred sheep.  Sheep tend to look like rocks; it's hard to tell them apart from a distance.  They congregate in clumps here and there.  Sometimes a sheep or two will wander off or from one clump to another or a group will head off in search of grass.

Now imagine you’re the shepherd.  Maybe you stop for just a minute to help one sheep in some sort of distress, or you look away from the flock for a minute to see if a wolf is coming over the ridge, or maybe you take a short nap in the heat of the day.  Are you going to notice that one of the 100 has wandered out of sight?

That’s what most startling about this parable.  That the lost sheep is noticed, missed.  That’s not the world we live.  Where one unremarkable individual among 99 others is missed.  But it’s the world Jesus invites us to enter in this parable.

And not only is the one sheep missed.  It is worth extraordinary efforts to find.

We might retitle this parable:  “The really, really, really attentive shepherd who cares.”

The shepherd cares for the individual, but also appears to want the flock to be restored as a whole.  This may be a bit of an interpretive stretch.  But it seems like the individual sheep is worth looking for not just as an individual sheep but also for its importance to the flock.  The flock is incomplete without each individual sheep.

One puny, unremarkable sheep among a hundred others. A sheep interested, presumably, only in its next meal.  Not caring whether it is lost or found.  One passive, essentially lifeless, totally indifferent coin of modest value.  Both are missed.  And, apparently worth extraordinary effort…  extraordinary effort that they may be found and restored to their place.

This powerful desire of the shepherd and the woman to find what is lost…  Theologians call it prevenient grace.  The word “prevenient” means  “that which goes before.”  Prevenient grace or mercy is divine grace (care) that precedes human decision.  It exists prior to and without reference to anything humans may have done.  God’s grace is extended to us before we do or think or act or anything.  It’s not dependent upon our choices or actions in any way.  It’s only about God’s care for us.

We are always being sought.  Whether we think we are valuable or worthless, significant or insignificant, faithful or faithless, penitent or prideful.  We are always being sought.  In these parables, the seemingly small or insignificant is missed and worth extraordinary efforts to find.

And once the sheep or the coin is found, then the celebration begins. 

The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 4

The Value of Following Jesus

Proper 18

Jeremiah 18:1-11

Luke14:25-33

The image or metaphor that Jeremiah presents in today’s Old Testament reading is a rich and powerful one.  God as potter.  God as artist, creator, shaping and reshaping God’s people as the clay.   Although Jeremiah manages to make it sound like a threat, it is a wonderfully hopeful image.  As one commentator said, in this image we are not finished yet, not fired, not brittle.  God’s creative work in us continues, shaping us for good, as Jeremiah says.

As most of you know, I’ve been preaching from the Old Testament prophets recently.  Remember that image of God, the potter.  But today I want to spend some time with this difficult Gospel passage.

What was Jesus thinking?!!  What was he doing?  Trying to run people off?  Trying to turn people away?

Or trying to turn the Jesus movement into some sort of Army ranger unit where only a tough, select few are included?

Jesus says:  “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

Today’s passage concludes with Jesus’ words:  “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

Maybe he was just trying to get people’s attention?  More than one commentator thinks that Jesus’ words are hyperbole.

The definition of hyperbole is:  an extravagant statement or figure of speech not intended to be taken literally…  a deliberate exaggeration used for effect.

(It’s good to be able to recognize hyperbole during an election cycle…)

Hyperbole.  An extravagant statement or figure of speech not intended to be taken literally…  a deliberate exaggeration used for effect.  In an effort to get peoples’ attention.

And some of the hyperbole may be Luke’s.  The comments in my annotated Bible on this passage say:  “Hate is used in vigorous, vivid hyperbole, the parallel passage in Matthew reflects Jesus’ meaning.”  The parallel passage describing this same event in Matthew isn’t exactly easy, but it’s not as harsh as Luke.  In Matthew, Jesus says: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”  Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me versus whoever does not hate father and mother cannot be my disciple…

Discipleship is the topic in both of these passages.  Being a disciple of Jesus.  Following Jesus.  I don’t know what sort of connotations discipleship may have for you, but take a step back and think about what it really means.  It means sharing Jesus’ life.  Being with Jesus.  Having some part of the relationship he has of being one with God.  Walking with him, yes, towards the cross.  But sharing the journey of transformation and resurrection beyond the cross.  Sharing Jesus’ life.

These passages in Luke and Matthew are often titled “The Cost of Discipleship.”  That’s very misleading.  It implies that there is a cost to be paid to acquire discipleship.  Discipleship is not a commodity that can be bought.  Nor is it an Army ranger unit where only the strongest, the best, the richest, the smartest… can succeed.  Yes, discipleship is not fluff, a casual hobby to be picked up from time to time…  That is undoubtedly part of Jesus’ message.  That discipleship is serious business and that’s a message we need to hear, too.  But don’t ever fall into thinking…  if I only pay enough, or if only I sacrifice enough, I can purchase the prize.  There is no assigned cost that we must muster, small or large, for the purchase of discipleship. 

If these passages aren’t about outlining the cost of discipleship, what are they about?   As I reflected on the Gospel this week I was thinking about the risk of discipleship.  What are the risks of becoming a disciple of Christ?  It was the examples that Jesus gives in Luke’s version that raise that question for me.  The builder who can’t complete the tower and faces ridicule.  The king who faces certain defeat in battle.  Is it about being mindful of the risks of discipleship?

That is definitely a question worth pondering….  What are we willing to risk to be Jesus’ disciples?  But it’s an odd message for Jesus.  I have to think it’s not Jesus’ main point.  Don’t begin this journey of discipleship if you can’t finish it??  Don’t follow me if you can’t bear the risk??  It’s so contrary to Jesus’ message elsewhere.

For me, the best way to think about these passages is about the value of discipleship.  The value of being disciples of Christ.  Value and cost are very different things, as you know.  That’s true throughout our lives.  Jesus is talking about the value of discipleship.  And he challenges us to acknowledge that we don’t recognize the value of following him.

So to get us to think about the value of discipleship, Jesus talks about other things that we do value.

If we value mother or children more than discipleship, the solution is not to love family less.  The issue is to ask why we don’t love Jesus more.   If we value our family relationships, why do we so little value our relationship with Jesus?

If we value our reputation, our success, our image, so much that we will do anything not to risk or lose them, then we don’t recognize the value of sharing our lives with Jesus in everything we do.

If we cannot imagine anything more valuable than all of our possessions, then we don’t recognize the true value of being disciples of Christ.

It’s good news, amazing news, to think that Jesus offers us something as valuable as discipleship, as the opportunity to share his life with him.

Let us pray that God, the potter, will continue to re-shape our eyes and our hearts and our minds so that we will recognize the true value of being disciples of Christ.

The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 28

Seeking God
Proper 17
Jeremiah 2:4-13
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14

Sometimes the message of a Scripture reading is simple and straightforward.  Not a lot of explanation or interpretation needed.

In saying that I could be talking about any of today’s three readings…  Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel are straightforward.  Be humble.  Don’t put yourself forward.  The instructions in Hebrews are clear (and I’ll come back to those), but again this Sunday my primary focus is on the Old Testament reading.  The prophetic voice of Jeremiah and it’s straightforward message.

Speaking to all of God’s people Jeremiah says:  Here’s what your ancestors did wrong.  They did not say, “Where is the Lord?”  They did not ask, “Where is God?”  Their God had brought them out of slavery and given them a plentiful land, but they did not seek God.

They did not ask:  Where is God?  Instead of asking after God, instead of seeking God, they went after worthless things.

So Jeremiah asks us:  What are you seeking?  What are you seeking in your life?  We are all seeking something.  What are you looking for?  What are you really seeking to find? 

Jeremiah says that if you go after worthless things, you become worthless.  Or you can seek God.

It’s that simple.

Hebrews says pretty much the same thing, although a bit more positively than Jeremiah.  Don’t seek after selfish goals, Hebrews says.  Show hospitality to strangers.  Jesus says the same thing in today’s Gospel.  Don’t invite your friends or relatives or the people you’re trying to impress to your banquet.  Invite poor, marginalized strangers.  And, Hebrews, points out, you may discover an unexpected benefit.  Entertaining God’s holy angels! 

And put yourself out to help people in prison or people who are being tortured.

Hebrews doesn’t say this explicitly, but it’s implicit in Hebrews that those acts of selfless compassion are ways of seeking God.  Helping others in need is where we will find God.  I’m reminded of the ancient, beautiful Christian hymn, in Latin, Ubi caritas.  Usually translated in English:  Where charity and love prevail, God himself is there.

Keep your lives free from love of money, Hebrews says.  I can just hear Jeremiah cheering.  Talk about chasing after worthless goals!

And the author of Hebrews reminds us of God’s promise: “I will never leave you or forsake you.”  I will never leave you.

God is with us always.  If we don’t see him right off it may be because we are focused on seeking worthless things.  Rather than seeking God.  Where is God in this place, in this time?  Asking is seeking, and seeking is finding.

I’m reminded of words in Eucharistic Prayer D (again)  “When our disobedience took us far from you,” [seeking after worthless things] “you did not abandon us to the power of death.  In your mercy you came to our help, so that in seeking you we might find you.”  You came to our help.  So that in seeking you, we might find you.

There is a very important sidebar to this discussion.  Periods of God’s apparent absence are real.  Even the most faithful people, the most spiritual individuals have written about the “dark night of the soul,” times when God seems absent.  The psalms of lament give voice to this piece of human existence.  The psalms are also models for what to do when God seems absent:  Persevere in trust.  Continue yearning and seeking even in the midst of despair.

Jesus quotes one of the psalms of lament from the cross, Psalm 22.  Words that are very familiar.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
   Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;
   and by night, but find no rest.

Less familiar, unfortunately, are the rest of the words of Psalm 22.  But Jesus would have known them.  Words of perseverance, trust and praise.

Yet you are holy,
   enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In you our ancestors trusted;
   they trusted, and you delivered them.

You who fear the Lord, praise him!
   All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him;
   stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!
For he did not despise or abhor
   the affliction of the afflicted;
he did not hide his face from me;
   but heard when I cried to him.

Seeking God doesn’t always mean we find him instantly.  Sometimes it’s a journey.  A journey undertaken in trust that God’s promise to be with us always is true.  Persevering in the conviction that the witness of the psalmist and the saints to God’s presence is trustworthy.

Ultimately Jeremiah’s challenge to us is simple:  Are we seeking worthless things?  If so, we will become worthless, and we will most certainly not find God.

If, on the other hand, we ask:  Where is God? we will find him.

The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 21

Living as Covenant People

Jeremiah 1:4-10

For the last two weeks, the Old Testament lesson has come from the prophet Isaiah.  In today’s reading we have moved on to Jeremiah.  I didn’t make some specific decision to focus on the prophets after I got back from vacation, but they’ve caught my attention these last few weeks.  We’ll be in Jeremiah for three weeks.  I don’t know what I’ll preach in the coming weeks, but again today I’m going to focus on the Old Testament reading and the prophecy of Jeremiah.

We know very specifically when Jeremiah was active as a prophet, because it can be keyed to other historical events.  We don’t know when he was born, but we know he was active from 626 B.C. to 587.  That’s about 100 years later than Isaiah of Jerusalem.

The chapter in my Old Testament textbook from seminary that talks about Jeremiah is titled:  “The Doom of the Nation.”  It was not a good time, politically or spiritually for the people of God.  A good bit of that trouble, Jeremiah pointed out was self-inflicted.  In terms of the religious life of the people, it was a time when people thought they could pay lip service to God in the temple but still offer sacrifice to pagan gods the rest of the week.  It was a time when religious/nationalistic sloganeering had replaced true heart-felt observance of the covenant.  They had forgotten what it meant to live as people faithful to the covenant God established at Sinai.

The passage we heard today from Jeremiah comes from the very beginning of the book.  It is a “call story.”  The Bible is full of “call stories.”  Call stories are when God speaks directly to a particular individual and says, “I have a job for you.”  You have a God-given “calling” or vocation.  Moses receives his call from the burning bush.  The Old Testament is full of stories of kings and prophets being called to their vocations by God.  The New Testament tells the disciples’ call stories.

Jeremiah tells his call story in his own words. “The word of the Lord came to me saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations."

God calls Jeremiah to be a prophet to the nations.  Jeremiah demurs:  I’m too young to be a prophet.  Doesn’t matter, God says, you’re called.  Do not be afraid.  I will be with you and will give you the words.  Moses tried to dodge his call, too, saying he was not eloquent enough to do what God asked.  Doesn’t matter, God said, I will be with you and will give you Aaron to speak for you.  It’s hard to wiggle out of God’s call.

So what does Jeremiah’s call story mean for us?  Is it a reminder from God that we are all called to be prophets?  And that we really don’t have any good excuses to dodge that call?

I’m reminded of the passage from Numbers (11:29) where Moses says:  “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them!”

It’s not a bad question to ponder…  How we are all called to prophetic ministry.  And we could certainly all do a lot better at bringing God’s words to the world in which we live.

But (it may be a relief to hear) that’s not really the main point of this passage for us.

Writing about Jeremiah’s call, one commentator writes:  “we are not to read these lectionary verses as a reflection on vocation. We are not urged to “be like” Jeremiah; rather, we are called to listen to Jeremiah. We are not enjoined to admire Jeremiah nor are adolescent “youths” being encouraged to dream beyond their self-perceived deficiencies.”

The call stories of the prophets have a special role in the Scriptures.  They authenticate the prophetic ministry of the prophets.  They bestow divine authority on the words that the prophets proclaim.  The prophets are called by God to convey God’s message.  These are God’s words.  They are commanded words.  Jeremiah’s call bestows God’s own divine authority on the words he speaks.

And we are to listen.  Just as attentively as the people to whom Jeremiah spoke.  These are God’s words, spoken to us, today.  The urgency of the prophetic message is a constant “today.”  God commanded these words to be spoken.  And we are to listen.  To hear.  To take seriously the living Word of God in our lives. 

Jeremiah reminds us not to just give it lip service to the Word of God on Sundays.  But to study it, take it into our lives.  To read the Bible and listen to others who proclaim God’s Word.  And to take it very seriously throughout our lives. 

I’m into the prophets right now.  They seem particularly relevant to me in our current cultural setting.  But maybe something else speaks to you.  Seek out the Word of God.  Listen.  Attend to it in your life.

Jeremiah also called the people of his day to return to the covenant.  They had forgotten or abandoned their commitment to living as people in covenant with God.

Our covenant relationship with God is expressed in the Baptismal Covenant.  That individual covenant established between each of us and God at baptism.  It begins with the Apostles’ Creed, the baptismal declaration of faith.  Then it continues with these vows:

With God’s help, I will “continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.”  I will participate in the life of a faith community.

I will “persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever I fall into sin, repent [I talked about that last week] and return to the Lord.”

I will “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.”  There’s that prophetic ministry.  We can’t escape it.

I will “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”  All persons.  It isn’t easy following the covenant.

And, finally, I will “strive [strive, that’s a strong word] for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

That’s the covenant we are called into as people baptized as Christ’s own.

I’ve printed out copies of our Baptismal Covenant.  I’m going to ask the kids to help pass them out after the blessing of the backpacks.

You might leave your copy on the pew or on one of the tables.  Jeremiah would have something to say about that!

You can chuck it when you get home.  But your baptismal covenant with God won’t go away.  

Or you can put it on your refrigerator or by your desk or on your nightstand.  And pray it.  Memorize it.  So that it soaks into our DNA, becomes a part of all of our being.  So that we live it throughout our lives almost without thinking about it.  So that we live as God’s covenant people today.

The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 14

Grant Us True Repentance

Proper 15

Isaiah 5:1-7

The Old Testament reading for today, as it was last week, is from Isaiah.  I mentioned last Sunday that the Book of Isaiah was written by at least three different authors.  This passage is from what is often called First Isaiah, written by the 8^th century BC prophet, Isaiah of Jerusalem.

The language in Isaiah is rich and the poetry beautiful.  This passage conveys a powerful image.

God is grieved, deeply angered by the behavior of God’s people.  God is profoundly affected, deeply disappointed by the failure of the people of God to live as a just and righteous society.

The passage can be tricky to follow.  Voice and perspective change in the midst of the passage.  It starts out in the prophet’s voice.  “Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard.”   It’s not clear at first who the prophet’s beloved is.  Who is the owner of the vineyard?  But later the voice changes to the voice of the owner of the vineyard and it becomes clear that the vineyard owner is God and the vineyard represents God’s people, the people of Israel and Judah.

God has poured love and care into the planting and nurturing of the vineyard.  But it becomes clear.  The owner is God.  The vineyard is God’s people…  Israel and Judah.  He pours love and care into the vineyard.  “What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it?”  God asks.

And, yet, when God looks upon the vineyard he “expected justice, but saw bloodshed.”  He expected “righteousness, but heard a cry.”  God’s desire was for God’s people to live fruitfully in justice and righteousness.  But, despite God’s care, the people in God’s vineyard produced only wildness, bloodshed, a cry.

What really strikes me in this passage is how deeply God is affected by the peoples’ failure.  God FEELS the peoples’ failure.  God’s grief and anger are passionate.  This is not the God we often picture sitting benignly on some distant throne.   This is not a God with a passive, vaguely benevolent indifference to his peoples’ sins.

This passage in Isaiah ends with God destroying the vineyard.

“And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. 6 I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.”

The end is the peoples’ destruction.

What does this mean for us?  For our failure to live righteously, to “do right by one another” to embody social justice in our society?

The idea that God feels our failure deeply, grieves our indifference to righteousness and justice reminded me of the language in our Ash Wednesday service.  We only use the special liturgy for Ash Wednesday once a year, of course.  And because it’s a Wednesday many of you aren’t able to come.  That’s too bad.  It’s a powerful service.  I’m thinking in particularly of the Litany of Penitence where we acknowledge how deeply we fall short of God’s hopes for us.

In one of its intercessions we pray for God’s mercy because we “have been deaf to God’s call to serve, as Christ served us.   We have not been true to the mind of Christ.  We have grieved God’s Holy Spirit.”  We have grieved God’s Holy Spirit.

God grieves our failure to live in righteousness.

In the Litany of Penitence, we also acknowledge “our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people;” “our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty.”

Surely God is angry at our indifference to social justice and the needs of others.

So how does our story end? 

At the conclusion of the Litany of Penitence, the priest says these words:

“Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live…  has given power to pardon and absolve.”

God does not desire the death or destruction of us sinners.  Rather that we may turn back to God and live, pardoned and renewed.

In the context of that assurance of God’s desire to pardon and absolve, we all pray:  Grant us true repentance.

And that’s the crux of it all.  God, grant us true repentance.  Give us the will and the ability to repent.  Help us repent so that we may know God’s pardon and absolution.  The journey back to God begins with our repentance.  Grant us true repentance.

I don’t want to leave you with the impression that in the Old Testament the story ends with the destruction of God’s people and only in the New Testament does God offer forgiveness and reconciliation.  That is not the case.  The whole point of the prophetic witness in the Old Testament was to call the people to repentance.  The whole point of the prophets—Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amox, Micah—preaching destruction was to turn the people back to God.  God desires repentance and renewal.

We affirm that in our Eucharistic Prayers.  For example, in Prayer D, which we are using now at 10:00:   “When our disobedience took us far from you, you did not abandon us to the power of death.  In your mercy you came to our help, so that in seeking you we might find you.  Again and again you called us into covenant with you, and through the prophets you taught us to hope for salvation.”

Again and again and again, you called us back, and through the prophets you taught us to hope.  God’s desire is always that sinners turn from their wickedness and live.

Isaiah reminds us how deeply God grieves our failures to live with righteousness and justice.  If only we cared just a fraction as deeply about our failures as God does.  Maybe then we would repent.

Grant us true repentance.  That is the prayer we need to pray.  Grant us true repentance.