November 21, 2004

2 Samuel 5:1-3 + Colossians 1:12-20 + Luke 23:35-43

We come now to the end of Luke’s Gospel year, and the ultimate end of the journey Jesus has made to Jerusalem.

Now we know where he was leading us.

It is not to the city of the old covenant and temple, but outside the city.

It was not to the seat of proud power, but to the posture of humble service.

He took us to throne room with its riches and comforts,

but to a cross with its loneliness and suffering.

Yet from the throne of his cross he spoke his finest words

and delivered the most clear summary of his mission.

It is Luke’s summary of all that began in the Nazareth Synagogue

as Jesus stood up, took the scroll and began to read.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me and has anointed me

to preach good news to the poor

to proclaim liberty to captives,

recovery of sight to the blind

and freedom for the oppressed,

to proclaim a year of favor from God.”

In the genius of Luke’s writing, we see now that it is all complete.

The Jesus he gives us has done what he set out to do right up to and including his very last breath.

All his life he reached out to those who were outside, at the edges of life, the sinners, the tax collectors, the women, children, those without hope, and in his last breath, he does it one more time. He includes a condemned thief among those who will inherit His life and His relationship with His Father. No one who looks to Him will be without Hope and without a place before His Father.

What he proclaims in that Nazareth Synagogue comes as welcome news to the poor, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed. The trouble lies in the last proclamation: “A Year of Favor From God.”

This is what I like to call: “Bible Speak”. It is a kind of very specific biblical language that refers to what is required in the book of Leviticus chapter 25: a Jubilee year every seventh year requiring the land to rest in order to restore its fertility, and every fifty years the Israelites were to restore their relationships with one another. It meant that they were to free slaves who were imprisoned for unpaid debts. It was all about forgiveness, righting relationships, and restoring the community to equality before God.

For a people who are more interested in what they call “justice” rather than forgiveness, this is a very unwelcome and difficult suggestion.

For a people who hold whole nations in debt with an economic system that keeps nations poor, a “Year of Favor” and not getting your money back with interest does not sound like a good idea.

For a people who would rather exact revenge and punish rather than forget and forgive, such a “Year of Favor” is seems like an insult and unfair.

None the less, the Year of Favor has been proclaimed by Jesus Christ from the Synagogue of Nazareth, and it was not a twelve-month year – it was and is another way of describing the Reign of God, the “Kingdom” of Jesus Christ.

Citizens of that realm, those who choose life in “Jubilee” or in “Favor”

will be setting things right these days.

They will forgive debts.

They will see to the freedom of those who are captive,

not just in prisons,

but those who are captive in economic and social systems

that exploit them and hold them in bondage.

They will see that relationships are healed and restored to goodness by kindness.

Those who recognize their need for the Kingdom, or that year of Favor

and the chosen ones, the kin of God.

The one who speaks the loudest in today’s Gospel is one who knows what is to come. In asking Jesus to “remember” him, he asks for the relationship to continue:

a relationship that brings the promise of forgiveness and paradise.

The thief wants a relationship with one who is innocent yet suffers,

one who is abandoned, alone, helpless, powerless, betrayed, and misunderstood.

He knows something many of us are yet to learn.

He knows there is no future for him, and no hope to be found from those who are comfortable, connected, and in charge.

Those of us who can identify with him and make his prayer our own and those who hang on the crosses of their own lives or live with the painful consequences of their choices as he did, have every hope of hearing that final and power filled promise: “You will be with me in paradise.”

November 14, 2004

Malachi 3:19-20 + 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12 + Luke 21:5-19

We are living among ruins.

The ruins of political systems, of formerly revered social structures,

and the ruins of economic well-being, of dreams and aspirations.

It is impossible to imagine anyone in this church not having

found themselves or their lives in ruins at least once.

There is no place on this earth where human beings dwell that does not have its ruins. It is not necessary to live at the time Luke wrote this Gospel to know about ruins. Ruined temples, wars, natural disasters, rejection by family and friends, persecutions:

these things go on all the time, in every age.

The idea that these things signify the end of time has an appeal

if for no other reason than to release us from the obligation of doing anything about it. That kind of thinking is the easy way out.

If after all, the end is really near, why bother to rebuild, restore, forgive, or expect anything else.

The temptation to dig a hole, lock the doors, hide inside, or deny it all is considerable. But that is not our option, at least, not the option of people whose lives are rooted in Jesus Christ.

There is actually a greater crises than all of those disasters.

The one we really face here in Norman, Oklahoma is, in most cases,

the converse of what Jesus foresaw.

Our crises is that nothing is happening.

It is all someone else’s problem somewhere else in the world.

We did not drive around any tanks or armored vehicles to get here.

No one dodged any bullets, and there’s no wall being built under the pretense of security.

I’ve never buried anyone who was killed for their faith.

This temple does not seem to be under any threat from a foreign army of occupation.

Precisely because nothing seems to be happening faithful people

are tempted by spiritualities and religious experiences that offer drama and entertainment.

The temptation to make religion a market commodity,

to shop around for the most convenient schedule,

to pick and choose what to believe and how to shape ones values

with the least amount of challenge, conversion, or change is highly seductive.

It’s as though we find a religion that fits us, rather than fitting ourselves into faith.

We stand in need of the same counsel Jesus gave his disciples before:

beware of being led astray, trust God, endure the boredom and emptiness that besiege us.

To the sick he says the same thing: “Your Faith will Save you.” Be strong, Endure.

The words of Jesus are sprinkled with obstinate hope

that contradict bleak surroundings and threats of disaster.

The most constant recurring theme in the Gospel of Luke is: “Do Not Fear.”

Prophets, trembling shepherds, faltering apostles hear those words again and again.

We are not promised escape.

We are promised that there is Life without end.

Endurance is not a passive state.

It is a deliberate act, a choice to rely on God’s promise.

There is no denying death, adversity, pain, sorrow, or disasters,

but these are not reason to give up. We are a people who look at life with hope.

That means, God is in charge, Providence rules the universe,

the world has been redeemed no matter how badly we mess it up

or what evil we do. We cannot finally destroy the goodness of life.

The virtue that emerges from this Gospel is Hope.

It is not the same as a wish. Those are based on flights of fancy.

Wishes may or may not come true, but God fulfills all hope.

Hope is based on a promise.

Jesus Christ wished he didn’t have to die,

but he had no real hope of avoiding the cross.

So, instead of wishing, he hoped. He hoped that his Father would keep his promise

by making something beautiful of his ugly death.

His hope was fulfilled beyond all imagination by his resurrection.

My friends, we hope because Jesus promised he would stay with us

wherever we go, whatever we do.

The sick and the frail among us who will shortly be anointed

must take courage from this gospel.

They live among us as unmistakable signs of hope.

They remind us of what the stakes are in this life as we come of age.

In our generation we can no longer confuse ignorance with bigotry,

blame poverty on laziness, excuse war as a last resort

any more than we can say that the sick are ill because of something their parents did. That thinking comes from another age.

Today we are people who live without fear,

not in hiding from the challenges of love, fidelity, and commitment,

not shopping around for entertainment or the easy way out,

but joyfully embracing Hope because Jesus remains true to his word,

and by endurance and perseverance, we shall secure our lives.

October 31, 2004

Wisdom 11:22-12:2 + 2 Thessalonians 1:11-2:2 + Luke 19:1-10

Nineteen Sundays ago on June 27 Chapter 9 verse 51 of this Gospel said that Jesus:

“resolutely set his face to journey to Jerusalem.”

I was sick that Sunday, less then two weeks out of open heart surgery,

and in spite of how miserable I felt, you will never know how much I wanted to be here,

because these nineteen Sundays are probably the most powerful and significant pieces in the Sunday readings for the whole three-year cycle.

I am sorry to put them down today, not just because next month we get the dire and difficult themes of pre-advent warnings and awakenings; but also because we have hardly begun to reach into the depths of what Luke has to offer in this unique Journey narrative from chapter nine to nineteen.

Be that as it may, we’re moving on; and today comes a story that is unique to Luke and sums up all the qualities of discipleship we have considered the past nineteen weeks.

Unfortunately, we did not get the story that comes just before these verses, and it is important; because Luke is using a contrast here to make his point. Just before this story begins in chapter 18, we get the sad tale of the rich official.

He was law-abiding and upright, but he could not do the one thing that Jesus asked. When challenged to sell what he had and give it to the poor and come follow Jesus, the rich man became very sad, for he was very rich.

What was supposed to make his life wonderful, secure, and comfortable became an obstacle for his future.

Jesus never went to his house.

Then Luke gives us this tale of a man who was not law-abiding, not respected, selfish, unjust, and motivated by one thing: having more of everything.

And as the tale is told, you can almost hear the murmuring.

That crowd; judgmental, aloof, full of themselves, and so much better than this short, arrogant, independent, crook whose wealth has come by his clever, unjust, and ambitious cooperation with the Romans.

Their jealousy is almost palatable, and then the final blow: Jesus comes to his house, not theirs.

They are so close to Jerusalem, so close to the end of the journey, so near to that ultimate and longed for friendship with Jesus.

There is one thing in the way, and Zacchaeus figures it out while the others are too busy with the murmuring.

There is a sequence in this story, a movement we must not miss.

There are steps to be taken by those who want to hear what Zacchaeus heard

and have the joy and salvation he came to receive.

The first step is wanting to see Jesus and being willing to go looking.

In the second step, Zacchaeus makes changes in his life:

         changes that restore justice and set things right that were wrong.

Do you notice that Jesus never asked that of him?

Zacchaeus already knew what was needed – he had been listening.

He knew what was keeping him from Joy, and from salvation.

When there is justice, there Jesus is to be found.

There he will stay.

That does not happen until justice is done and the wrong has been set right.

The Jesus of Luke’s Gospel is still looking, and he stands in our midst today.

The risk and the foolishness of being like those who murmur is great

and the consequences are tragic.

We should listen to this story with the memory of the one that goes before.

We are either like one or like the other,

the rich man who went away sad, or Zacchaeus who went home with Joy.

The difference between them was the issue of justice and stewardship

As Jesus approaches Jerusalem, the one who is sought becomes the one who seeks.

He turns to those who seek him,

looking for a place to stay,

and Zacchaeus shows us how to make him welcome.

October 24, 2004

Sirach 35:12-14,16-18 + 2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18 + Luke 18:9-14

The Lukan lesson on prayer continues this Sunday.

Last week in a story about a widow and a judge

we were invited to consider how to pray and what to pray.

This week, two men give us almost a caricature of prayer

with which we can examine our own.

The difference between these two is very subtle,

and we must tune in to the Old Testament reading to pick it up.

We are set up by our culture to approve one of these two and scorn the other, but what if we knew a little more about them………………….

Suppose on the way to the Temple that morning

the Pharisee took groceries to a family where no one had a job,

stopped to see someone recently left alone by death of a spouse,

and picked up a street person and took them to a shelter,

leaving some cash to help feed them.

Suppose at the same time, the Publican

on his way to the temple evicted a single parent from some of his rental property because they were late on rent,

had a huge breakfast and left no tip after being rude and demanding to the server, and on the way into the Temple dropped in only some loose change from his pocket at the offering plate.

With these considerations our first impressions begin to fail,

as well they should.

The issue here is the comparison.

This is that trap in the story that catches us by surprise and teaches us a lesson.

It was a surprise for those who first heard this story from Jesus too.

A surprise twist that leaves you thinking is the whole point of parable telling.

The point here is not that we should pray one way or the other,

that one prayer is bad and another is good,

or that God hears one prayer but not another.

This was a problem for the early church that formed this Gospel.

They prayed differently than the Jews, and Luke would suggest that comparison and judgment about one being better than the other was useless.

We might do well to get the same message.

Where the prayer of the Pharisee goes wrong not in thanking God or acknowledging what he has become by God’s grace; but in comparing himself to another.

It is the word:  “Like” that betrays something out of order.

With that word, he crosses the line from gratitude to comparison.

It is a subtle difference, but we know how it feels.

Suppose we could listen in to the prayers of some who are here this morning:

“Thank God I am not like that one over there who sings off key.”

“Thank God I am not like that liberal who is destroying the church.”

“Thank God I am not like that conservative trying to relive the past that never was.”

“Thank God I am not like those lazy people on welfare stealing my reluctant tax money.”

You see, it is just like the Temple scene,

and all these thoughts betraying a deep insecurity.

The trouble here is that this kind of person, like the Pharisee,

does not know how to deal with God except by comparing himself to others.

For all his faults, the Publican at least has the integrity to look only at himself.

He knew who he was.

He never said, “I’m sorry I am not as good as or “like” the Pharisee.

It does not matter how we compare in the end.

What matters is that we know ourselves and who we really are within.

Because it is God who saves, and God is after us all.

The Publican went home “justified.”

Not because he went to the Temple.

Not because his prayer was better than someone else’s.

He went home justified because he knew that he could not justify himself,

and he was honest about his imperfect self.

We have no idea where the Pharisee went.

Perhaps he went on trying to justify himself or impress God further by other good deeds so that God might not let anything bad happen to him.

That’s the way it often goes with that kind of prayer and attitude —

a sort “Divine Bribery” that will see faith and prayer collapse if some tragedy occurs. They think, after all, “I’ve been so good. I’ve done so much. How could God do this to me?”

Wrong thinking here.

Jesus might well have had the same thoughts if His prayer and relationship to God had gone that way.

Our clue to the understanding of this parable comes in the First reading from Sirach. “The Lord is a God of justice, who knows no favorites……..

Who we are in the sight of God has nothing to do with anyone else.

God cannot, will not, and does compare us to one another.

But God will look for signs of His Son in us.

October 4, 2004

Habakkuk 1:2-3, 2:2-4 + 2 Timothy 1:6-8,13-14 + Luke 17:5-10

The plea of the apostles: “Increase our faith.” almost overshadows the rest of these gospel verses in which Jesus shares his vision of the great reversal that will be found when the reign of God begins.Perhaps those apostles were beginning to catch on.We have skipped over some heavy stuff between last week’s Gospel and today’s.There was serious instruction on the gravity of causing another to sin,and on the necessity for forgiving others.With that behind them, and the vision Jesus proposes ahead of them,it is not surprising that these disciples cry out.As always, they fall into the trap of thinking that more is better,and in a sense, the response of Jesus is to suggest that the quality of their faith is more important than the quantity.

However, it is this vision and the challenge of the great reversal that deeply disturbs these apostles and gives them reason to acknowledge their need for Faith.

A master and a slave are put before us with the suggestion that when the reign of God begins, the roles shall be reversed. How you feel about that certainly depends on whether you see yourself as master or as slave. If you are living the life of a slave, the reign of God will come with relief and the joy of finally being at rest and being served by others. If you are living the life of the master, the reign of God will come with some surprises that might be a bit unpleasant.

The vision of Jesus gives us reason to join in the cry of the apostles. When this Gospel is proclaimed in the western world, in “developed” nations of wealth and power, it speaks to people who are accustomed to being the “masters.” Most of what we have and want is available to us because the master/slave distinction is still working to our advantage. Talk of peace in this part of the world , and visions of peace are nothing more than a silly fantasy if we fool ourselves into thinking that “peace” means that everyone stop fighting and go back to work. What Jesus proposes is that the reign of God, which is the only real peace we can hope for, will come when that master/slave distinction is finished and we all sit down at the table of God’s bounty together. Prayers for peace when answered may not find us in power, in control, or having all the wealth and stuff money can buy.

When we pray for the Kingdom to come, we ought to give serious thought about how this might happen and what it may look like. It is probable that we may have less in order for others to have more. In order for most of the world to be fed, we might not be able to have three cars, or maybe even two. In order for there to be a roof over every head every night, we might not be able to have six or seven empty rooms in our homes.

I believe that the apostles were beginning to get the point, and thoughts like these were beginning to go through their minds. They were beginning to see that the reign of God was going to be different than they had thought.

Now they lived in a world and with a faith that held to the notion that wealth and power, doing good works and avoiding evil brought merit and somehow could get more good things out of God. They really did believe that God owed them rewards for being “good.” The news Luke has to share is that there is no special merit to be had from simply doing what is commanded. Keeping the rules is not enough, and God doesn’t owe us anything.

That Old Testament prophet, Habakkuk suggests that we must live by faith if we are to live the vision, and so we might well join the prayer of the apostles.The increase we need however lies in richness and depth; a faith rooted in hope, and able to endure in the face of suffering and delay.

We pray for a faith grounded on the bedrock of fortitude, a source of strength when we might be tempted to grow weary, and losing heart, yield to the “spirit of cowardice” that Timothy warns us against.We pray for a faith that will lead us into the mysterious ways of God’s Holy Wisdom no matter how dark and winding the path may seem.That kind of faith will open us to be transformed by grace and begin to share in the vision of Jesus: a vision that sees us as servants, slaves;people who use what they have for the service of the Master,rather than for the privilege of having even more.Less concerned with having more,we might then be focused on what to do with what we have.When that begins, we will have faith enough to see ourselves into the reign of God.

September 26, 2004

Amos 6:1-7 + 1 Timothy 6:11-16 + Luke 16:19-31

This story found only in Luke’s Gospel does not invite us in nearly as much as it invites us to observe.The lesson here for us comes from looking and learning,not from trying to identify with either the rich man or with Lazarus.A close look at the context of the story suggests that this is more about compassion than about wealth or poverty.The trouble here is that the rich man because of his passion for wealth has no passion for justice, and so, Lazarus suffers.In the midst of this Gospel passage are words easily missedbecause the images are so powerful;but these words of verse 31 carry the message yo those who seek to become faithful disciples of Jesus Christ.

He speaks these words to those who are still with him,to those who have heard what he said about possessions,about mercy, about forgiveness.”If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.“The Jewish tradition which shaped the conscience of Jesus of Nazarethwas a powerful social message.It was not simply about “doing good and avoiding evil.”It was not simply a matter of “keeping the rules”. There was more to be done.Disciples of Jesus today must be movedby the same social message from the Scripturest hat shaped Jesus himself.Otherwise, all his words will fall upon deaf ears.

It is the indifference that condemns the rich man, not his wealth. It is his failure to see what is right in front of his face that costs him his eternal life.It is his failure to hear and be moved by the word of God – by the Prophets and by Moses himself that completes this tragic story.

Indifference will never be found in a disciple of Jesus.His word and his deeds stir the disciple with a Passion for Justicet hat will not allow any Lazarus anywhere be dismissed or ignored.Social action and social responsibility will be virtues that mark disciples on their way to Jerusalem.The compassion found in these disciples is not just a gentle concern or nice contribution to charity.It is an absolute PASSION, a driving, powerful, unmistakable, uncontainable thirst for Justice that will show itself in more powerful and more convincing ways than simply in good works and contributions.Those certainly will be there, but this thirst and hunger for Justice will not be satisfied by contributions of time and money.It will be a force for change, not just in one’s own way of using one’s possessions,but in the very systems themselves that leave Lazarus at the gate begging day after day until he finally dies in that misery.

Compassion is a radical criticism of a system that produces hurt and tolerates it.It announces that the hurt is to be taken seriously,and is never to be accepted as a normal or natural condition for being human.Compassion is a recognition of the human community that jerks us out of our comfortable self absorbed ways of living and seeing things.Compassion sparks our awareness of others,and as soon as we are awakened by it and move to action,Jesus enters into the hurt and our passion becomes redemptive within his.Compassion will never be “conservative” if it is the compassion of Christ.It will be generous, extravagant, and inclusive.It is an unmistakable mark of people on the way to Jerusalem in the company of Jesus Christ.

September 12, 2004

Exodus 32:7-14 + 1 Timothy 1:12-17 + Luke 15:1-32

Another lesson in the ways of discipleship as Jesus walks to Jerusalem comes in a story all too familiar.It provides another of the qualities of discipleship,but it is easily missed by a people who are more intereste dn the one who runs away than in the those who stay home.The is not about the children.It is about the parent.Luke would have us understand this by quickly adding the two parables that follow the long one.Left to ourselves we might like to think that this long story is about us;finding a welcome,receiving unconditional forgiveness,coming to our senses,knowing where our true home is to be found.But, it is not about any of that.At least not until we have explored entirely the people who stay home.In that sense, it is about us,about you and me who have not run away, who are not big sinners,who have not yet squandered our inheritance even though we may take risks with it now and then.

For people who want to be disciples of Jesus, the virtue, or quality of discipleship is found in the Father of this first story made all the more obvious by the behavior and attitude of the older son.Yet this parable always tempts us to comfort ourselves rather than challenge ourselves.We want it to be about forgiveness received rather than hear it as a lesson in forgiven;but there is no way around the placement of this story on the road to Jerusalem.

It is about disciples and how they are to behave, what they ought to feel,and how they should treat one another.The disciple of Jesus Christ waits for and anxiously anticipates the opportunity to forgive. There is no hint of blame nor thought of punishment.There is only a burning desire to restore what is lost,to heal what is broken,and to RUN, not walk toward anyone who has turned toward us.That father never gave up his hope nor his desire to have his children together.That father never said those deadly words:”He’ll never change.” or, “That’s just the way he is.”Those words betray an attitude of judgement that freezes out the other,and they justify giving up hope, when there is no reason to do so.

The heart hardened by such judgements is not the heart of a disciple of Jesus.Stubbornness, anger, self-righteousness, and arrogance in the face of human weakness are not qualities of disciples of Jesus making their way to Jerusalem.Those disciples will always be on the lookout, and always be vigilant for every opportunity to extend the mercy of God and the embrace of God not just to the deserving, but also to those who some would think will never change, never be worthy, nor ever find their way home.As disciples of Jesus we must be reconcilers as much as reconciled.All three parables today focus on celebration and that celebration is why we are here.Yet it rarely looks and feels much like such a celebration because we are still too good at pointing the finger of blame and fail to open our arms in embrace.This noble virtue of mercy is out of our reach if it is only found in God.The call to discipleship is a call to mercy, forgiveness, peace;but it is not a call to accept them nearly as much as it is a vocation to give them.When that happens on this earth, the party will have begun.

September 12, 2004

Exodus 32:7-14 + 1 Timothy 1:12-17 + Luke 15:1-32

Another lesson in the ways of discipleship as Jesus walks to Jerusalem

comes in a story all too familiar.

It provides another of the qualities of discipleship,

but it is easily missed by a people who are more interested

in the one who runs away than in the those who stay home.

The is not about the children.

It is about the parent.

Luke would have us understand this

by quickly adding the two parables that follow the long one.

Left to ourselves we might like to think that this long story is about us;

finding a welcome,

receiving unconditional forgiveness,

coming to our senses,

knowing where our true home is to be found.

But, it is not about any of that.

At least not until we have explored entirely the people who stay home.

In that sense, it is about us,

about you and me who have not run away, who are not big sinners,

who have not yet squandered our inheritance

even though we may take risks with it now and then.

For people who want to be disciples of Jesus, the virtue, or quality of discipleship is found in the Father of this first story

made all the more obvious by the behavior and attitude of the older son.

Yet this parable always tempts us to comfort ourselves

rather than challenge ourselves.

We want it to be about forgiveness received

rather than hear it as a lesson in forgiven;

but there is no way around the placement of this story on the road to Jerusalem.

It is about disciples and how they are to behave, what they ought to feel,

and how they should treat one another.

The disciple of Jesus Christ waits for and anxiously anticipates the opportunity to forgive. There is no hint of blame nor thought of punishment.

There is only a burning desire to restore what is lost,

to heal what is broken,

and to RUN, not walk toward anyone who has turned toward us.

That father never gave up his hope nor his desire to have his children together.

That father never said those deadly words:

“He’ll never change.” or, “That’s just the way he is.”

Those words betray an attitude of judgement that freezes out the other,

and they justify giving up hope, when there is no reason to do so.

The heart hardened by such judgements is not the heart of a disciple of Jesus.

Stubbornness, anger, self-righteousness, and arrogance in the face of human weakness are not qualities of disciples of Jesus making their way to Jerusalem.

Those disciples will always be on the lookout, and always be vigilant for every opportunity to extend the mercy of God and the embrace of God

not just to the deserving, but also to those who some would think will never change, never be worthy, nor ever find their way home.

As disciples of Jesus we must be reconcilers as much as reconciled.

All three parables today focus on celebration

and that celebration is why we are here.

Yet it rarely looks and feels much like such a celebration

because we are still too good at pointing the finger of blame

and fail to open our arms in embrace.

This noble virtue of mercy is out of our reach if it is only found in God.

The call to discipleship is a call to mercy, forgiveness, peace;

but it is not a call to accept them nearly as much as it is a vocation to give them.

When that happens on this earth, the party will have begun.