September 26, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Amos: 1, 4-7 + Psalm 146 + 1 Timothy 6: 11-16 + Luke 16: 19-31

The idea has come to me that four Gospels is not enough, and I have decided to join the Evangelist team and write up a fifth one. It probably will not make the cut-off and ever be included in anyone’s Bible; but I think that if I write the stories correctly I won’t have to preach anymore, so after Byron is finished proclaiming the new Gospel, we can just go right on with the Creed and you’ll be out of here about fifteen minutes faster. Does anyone object to that?

After giving this idea some thought during the week, I decided to start with this story, and fill in the others later. Now Byron, the rules say that if you are present, I cannot read the Gospel; but since this is not Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John, you are excused. There is already a Gospel of Thomas not accepted, so we will have to call this the Gospel of September. Somewhere in the middle this story will come up.

“Jesus said to the good people of Norman: There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen imported from Italy. (First I wrote down crimson and cream but then I scratched that out purple and linen as a nice ring to it.) He dined on the finest of cuisine every day and his wine choices rivaled the greatest cellars. He dined alone because he liked it that way. Outside on the front porch was a poor man named Lazarus covered with sores. Lazarus would gladly have eaten the left-over food, but the door was always closed. It was always closed because the rich man was afraid of Lazarus. He was afraid Lazarus might mess up the place or take some of his stuff. Dogs came and licked the sores on Lazarus. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels straight on to the banquet in heaven. When the rich man died the undertaker took him away (no angels). He was dumped on the front porch of heaven while his children hatefully fought each other over his estate. Thinking he would live much longer, and putting off everything important, he had no will. Then the dogs came, and they bit him and tore his fine garments to rags.

“He shouted out for help, but the door was closed just the way he liked it, and no one heard him for a long time. Finally, Abraham came out to welcome some other guests, and the rich man said: “Father Abraham, I’m miserable and hungry out here. Let me in. But Abraham just looked the other way closing the door just as the rich man closed his door. Again, Father Abraham came out to welcome other guests, and the rich man said: “If I can’t come in, send Lazarus out to tell my family to stop fighting over that stuff and come help me.” Abraham said: “It won’t do any good, they have the door closed, and they are too busy eating everything they can find and spending all your money.

“No, Father Abraham” the rich man said: “If Lazarus goes back, they will listen.” But Father Abraham said: “Now look here, what makes you think they are going to open the door with Lazarus back there again when you wouldn’t open before.” They learned to keep the door closed. Now they are enjoying all that stuff you left behind. When it’s gone, that’s all there is. The rich man whined and said: “I want to come in, I never did anything wrong in my whole. I earned my money honestly and worked hard for it.”

“I know you never did anything bad,” said Abraham, “but the trouble is, and the reason you’re outside here by yourself is that you never did anything good. You just stayed home, protected your stuff and enjoyed the best of everything. The problem with you sir is that you simply did nothing. You were complacent, comfortable, and took care of yourself. You kept the door closed so you would not have to see Lazarus although you seem to know his name which is curious to me.

“You went to church and you listened to the Gospel. You talked about and studied about Jesus who rose from the dead, but you never imitated his behavior and never made his attitude and his concerns your own, much less did you do what he asked you to do. You knew you were created in the image and likeness of God, but you only got it half right. The God who made you is very rich. You imitated that part right perfectly. But that same God gave you his riches. Somehow you missed that part and failed to live in the full image of that God. You heard the Prophet Amos speaking to you and reminding you that your complacent attitude was not right. Even though you were not hateful or hostile, you were complacent and that was worse. You just kept thinking: “Someone ought to do something about that man Lazarus.” It was nice of you to let him sleep on your front porch as long as the door was closed, but you never asked why he was sleeping there in the first place. You did him no harm, but you did him no good either.”

At that point, Abraham heard the guests gathering for desert, so he got up waved goodbye to the rich man and left him sitting on the porch as the dogs came growling again at this stranger. Abraham closed the door.

September 19, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Amos 8: 4-7 + Psalm 113 + 1 timothy 2: 1-8 + Luke 16: 1-13

If we were reading chapter 15 and 16 together, two connecting ideas would pull together this parable and one from last week.
But we don’t hear that so easily with seven days in between so let me point them out to you. In both parables, the verb “squander” is used. Wasteful and extravagant behavior is seen in both the younger of two sons and then again in this steward. Then, both the squandering son and the squandering servant have moments of clarity when they come to their senses and ask the same question:
“What shall I do?”

In a nation and at a time in history when “squandering” has become a national pastime,
almost an art, and even the subject of entertainment made perfectly obvious by a television show called: “Greed”; this parable might be a bit timely. Say the word: “Squander” these days, and all kinds of people are going to start hollering about “Washington.” It’s today’s great political game: blame someone else, accuse them of squandering. If they would stop it everything would be fine. It is a really effective diversion, perfectly distracting.
If I keep attention on someone else’s squandering, no one will notice my own.
If I can convince myself that squandering in Washington is the problem, no one will ever notice what I’m doing, and neither will I.

This is a tough parable if you take if personally. Of course, if you hear it and think it’s about someone else, it is a lot easier. But it isn’t about someone else. It is about a Steward; and that point, the parable is about us, because stewards is what we are.

Whether we are one of the two sons from last week: the older who is in a great snit because he thinks his privilege is being lost
or the younger who squanders what he has no right to possess or this steward who squanders what he has been asked to manage,

there is no getting away from the big question: What am I to do? Unless you just turn this into a Bible Study course and fiddle around with the many odd little details we have to ask that question.
What shall I do? is the question this Gospel puts in our face. What shall I do with all the stuff I have? What shall I do with the time that I have? What shall I do with the opportunities I have? What shall I do with the life I have?

Jesus is inviting us to a radical change of outlook. He is not urging us to be service-oriented people out to help others. Boy Scouts and the Rotary Club can teach you that. You don’t need to learn that in church.
Jesus is not counseling unselfishness or service as a way to be happy. Doing things for others because it makes us feel good is sick business that never address the cause of another’s need. It always feels good to throw some money at a cause or a problem

but that never addresses the cause of the problem and so it’s always there. It never feels good to deal with the cause of the problem, because that might mean some change in our own behavior or our values. It feels good to build a house for a poor person. It does not feel good to change the comfortable system that keeps them poor.

This is where the 16th Chapter of Luke’s Gospel comes alive. Jesus proposes that we look at everything we have in a radically new way; to see every skill, talent, opportunity and possession as something given to us to manage, to use, to invest for one single purpose: the forging of an unbreakable bond between ourselves, God and other people. What lasts, Jesus suggests is people. When there is no more work because you’re too old; or no more money because you’ve squandered it all there will still be people around us. This is the wisdom of the steward in this parable. It’s not that he is buying friends, but that he knows what will last. He is asking the question: “What will my life be like in the future?” His response is to build up relationships because he knows that those relationships are a greater prize than all the master’s wealth. To be a disciple of Jesus we must renounce all use of material goods that does not have God and love of others as its goal. We must dedicate ourselves to serving others in everything we do. Ask the question: “What shall I do?”

September 12, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Exodus 32: 7-11, 13-14 + Psalm 51 + 1 Timothy 1: 12-17 + Luke 15: 1-32

Three parables are told in response to Scribes and Pharisees who have criticized Jesus for eating with Tax Collectors and Sinners. In that culture there were only two groups: those who were in and those who were out. Scribes and Pharisees of course were in. Tax Collectors and Sinners were out. Jesus proposes that a third group would be more in keeping with the Kingdom of God: those who gather in unity to rejoice.

These three parables seem to build upon one another in intensity and importance. The first is about a lost sheep, an animal. The second is about a lost coin. Now this is not just any coin. Such a huge search effort would not be likely for one coin out of ten. Scholars suggest that this coin might have been part of the dowry which would carry much greater significance than monetary value.

The third parable is about a lost human being, a son.

Now parables always reveal something about God. In every parable Jesus reveals something about the “Father.” I doubt that the Jesus of the Gospels thought much about who was in and who was out. He ate with everyone. He ate in the homes of a Pharisees who were not always perfect hosts. He ate at Matthew the tax collector’s home, and he shared a drink with a Samaritan woman of questionable reputation. The “in” and the “out” groups were not of interest to him.

What was of interest was bringing them together. No matter what kept people apart, sickness, social status, territorial boundaries, tribal identity, or language as we see later when His spirit comes on Pentecost, it had to go.

The will of the Father was unity: unity in Israel, unity in the family. And we tell this story today because the will of the Father is not yet accomplished. The work of Jesus in bringing us together is not complete and there is no one left to complete it but you and me. In the last of the three parables, that reality is made obvious by the older son. The Pharisees and Scribes got the point. That older son was them. It made them mad, and rather than see into the story the Will of God for them, they only became angrier leaving those who thought of themselves as “insiders” on the outside while the party begins. The story has no conclusion because it isn’t over yet – there is still time to complete the Will of the Father for which we pray every time we utter those words that Jesus left us.

Finding what was lost, reuniting whatever is separated, restoring what ever and who ever are lost to the family of God is the Will of the Father. In God’s eyes there is neither “in group” nor “out group”. That is our doing, and it has no place in the family of God. The Will of God is a celebration – a party – call it “heaven” if you wish, Paradise, or a wedding banquet, for what else is a wedding but the unification of two people or two families into one. In the years since these parables first revealed the Will of God, we have not made much progress in restoring what is separated and broken. What progress we make

will be measured by our willingness and desire to celebrate. Continuing to insist that some are worthy and some are not, that some belong and some do not is a long way from the celebration. A desire and movement toward reconciliation is the first step toward the party. A waiting willingness and hope that will not die is the next. Seeking and never giving up is part of the disciple’s work.

This Eucharistic assembly is a taste of that celebration to come, but everyone is not here, and some are not here because we did not look for them. Some are not here because we have hurt them. Some are not here because they never knew we missed them. Nonetheless, the Father still stands and waits; some still seek and search for the lost. We may not be content with the way things are in this world while we threaten to burn one another’s sacred books build walls and fences to keep people apart pass laws about language, and continue to polarize even our own nation with ideologies that favor one group over another rather than seek the common good. In this condition, it is even hard to hear the sound of the party over the cries of those who are left out. “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”