How to be a King: Nov. 23, 2025

Year C, Christ the King                                                       Luke 23:33-43      

               Many of us know the story of Ruby Bridges.  Ruby was one of four first-graders selected to integrate two elementary schools in New Orleans in 1960. She was sent alone to William Frantz Public School.  Every day she walked into school surrounded by adults screaming threats and insults at her because she had the audacity to attend a school she had every right to be at.

          There was a psychiatrist studying the students who were helping desegregate schools in the south who took a special interest in Ruby.  He was amazed by her courage in the midst of so much hate and bigotry.  He began meeting with her every week to help her through the trauma. Ruby’s teacher mentioned to him that she had noticed Ruby moving her lips as she was walking into school every day. The psychiatrist asked Ruby who she was talking to. She told him that she was praying for the protestors.  He asked why she would pray for those who were so mean to her. She said that was what her parents and her pastor taught her.  She said, “I just keep praying for them and hope God will be good to them. . . . I always pray the same thing. ‘Please, dear God, forgive them, because they don’t know what they’re doing.’”[1]

That comes straight from our reading from the Gospel of Luke.  Jesus prayed that exact prayer from the cross as he was slowly dying, while people mocked him and called him, “King of the Jews.”  This is one of the moments when I want to argue with Jesus.  Are you sure they don’t know what they were doing? These were adults here.  Of course they knew what they were doing.  Scholars have debated this line from the text a great deal.  Who is the they? Is it the soldiers? The leaders who ordered the killing? The crowd?  I am not sure that matters.  It’s so easy to get lost in the minutiae rather than accepting the words that are clear—that was Jesus forgiving the people who were torturing him. One of Jesus’ final acts on this earth was to show mercy to people who didn’t seem to deserve mercy at all.

This is the last Sunday of what we refer to as ordinary time in the church year…the last Sunday before the new church year begins…which is Advent.   This Sunday is usually referred to as Christ the King Sunday.  If you look at the readings, they all have some connection to kings or kingdom.  In seminary, about 20 years ago, I was taught to be wary of this king language.  Some people suggested that instead we refer to this Sunday as “Reign of Christ.”  People were worried that this king imagery reinforced a hierarchical nature of power rather than the humility which Jesus consistently displayed.  He was a servant leader rather than a king.  But over the years I have learned more about the origins of this feast day and I have come to perceive it as one of the more subversive feast days of the church. 

In 1925, Pope Pius created the feast day of Christ the King.  It was less than 6 years after World War I ended, 14 years before the second world war began.  It was the very same year that Hitler published Mein Kampf and Mussolini became the dictator of Italy.  While the right side had won World War I, totalitarianism was on the rise and the pope was close enough to see it all.  Creating a feast day to celebrate the kingship of Christ was a way to remind the world that Christians serve a different kind of king and that king is above all the leaders of the world, whether they recognize that king or not.

All four Gospels say that there was a sign on the cross that said, “This is the king of the Jews.”  If all 4 Gospels agreed on that, then we can be certain that is an important point.  We are so accustomed to hearing this king language for Jesus, we don’t get too surprised when we read this title.  Yet this was probably hysterical to the people who created that sign.  Crucifixion was a shameful way to die.   It was for common criminals, usually criminals who had upset the Roman Empire. They used this spectacle to scare people into submission. This is what happens to people who don’t respect Rome.  Their point was that no real king would die such a death. If he was a king, an army would have been at his beck and call. He would not have to suffer. 

Here is the great irony of the scene…under that sign that mocked him, declaring the title ridiculous…he showed what it was to be a real leader.  In forgiving the people who killed him and telling one of the criminals next to him that he would be with him in paradise---he was showing mercy.  Mercy and love is what defined his kingship, not displays of force or a need to take town the opposition.

So often in modern Christianity, we allow others to define our faith. Instead of dismissing the notion of Jesus as a king because of how the world defines kingship…what if instead, we insist that Jesus is what defines a king, not the other way around?

            I know that many of us are frustrated by the leadership in our country right now, and those who aren’t angry now were probably very frustrated a few years ago.  There is a part of me that keeps waiting for that one person to come out the government and be that leader that we all need and want.  We just want someone to save us, to fix it all.  And I agree that we need better leadership and we need to hold people accountable.  But I also think we need to remember that no person can save us or this country.  It is only God who saves.  God also gives us the strength to save ourselves, so we can help others.

One of the frequent themes in the Old Testament is of the Hebrew people longing for this amazing king who will save them.  God warned them not to rely on a king, but they refused to listen.  They kept praying for some man to be that perfect king and that person never came.  They were always disappointed. God sent Jesus (a very unexpected king) to show us all that what we want is not always what we need.  The Jewish people wanted an all powerful Messiah to save them from the Romans, and instead God came to earth as a human who was then killed by the Romans.  A crucified king who could not save himself, yet somehow saved us all. That is who we worship.  

To many, he died as a failure…but  showing mercy is never failure.  It’s courage.  That display of love and compassion has inspired people throughout history—people like Ruby Bridges to walk through hoards of people screaming and spitting and still manage to pray for them.  Jesus’ mercy and love inspired Mother Theresa, Dorthy Day, Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King and so many whose names we don’t know. It can inspire us all. A king who can inspire that kind of courage 2000 years after he died, that’s a king worth worshipping.  May God’s mercy and compassion continue to inspire us to pray for those who wish us harm and find strength to be the leaders who lead with compassion and mercy.

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[1] https://www.christiancentury.org/first-words/when-ruby-bridges-prayed-her-enemies

What Holy Does: Nov. 2

 Year C, All Saint Sunday                        Luke 6:20-31         

          All Saint’s Sunday can be a little complicated.  We call it All Saints Day, but that’s confusing for a lot of Christians, especially anyone who has spent time in the Roman Catholic Church.  Catholics and Episcopalians share the belief that all baptized Christians (alive and dead) are considered saints.  This is how the apostle Paul used the word saint.   We hear that in his letter to the Ephesians: “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints…” When Paul used the word saint, he was always referring to the faithful, but imperfect Christians. 

What has led to some confusion, is that at some point the Roman Catholic Church created a process of canonization or beatification (and I am simplifying this greatly right now) in which a pope would declare a person worthy of veneration.  The pope doesn’t create a saint as they are already a saint because they are a Christian….the pope declares them worthy of veneration.  What is a bit confusing, is the person then has a “Saint” in front of their name…despite the fact that we are all saints.  I could refer to our baptismal candidates as Saint Matt, Saint George and Saint Owen….but let’s face it, that sounds a bit odd.

          What further complicates All Saints Day is that we read the names of those who have died in the last year and we have baptisms.  Reading the names of those who have died reinforces the idea that you have to be dead to be a saint.  In baptizing people we are reminding one another that saints are also the living.  I wonder if instead of asking what it means to be a saint, it would be helpful to consider what it means to be holy. 

In Hebrew and Greek (which are the languages that most of our Bible is translated from) holy meant to be set apart. To be holy meant to be separate from the world.  This caused some people to physically separate themselves from other people.  That’s why so many in the early church went to the dessert, to seek a deeper relationship with God away from everyone else.  It’s why even today there are Christians who think they should only associate with other Christians, as if non Christians would defile them in some way. 

I think one of the strengths of the Episcopal Church is that while we came from the Church of England, the Episcopal Church was really established in the very early years of our nation right here at this church and they were surrounded by different denominations and religions, very much thanks to the vision of William Penn.  Those church leaders who were around at that time understood that holiness didn’t mean that one had to be separated from those who weren’t like them.

          Yet over the years, especially the last 20-30 years, the Episcopal Church has been criticized for not being set apart quite enough.  We have been accused of going along with popular culture instead of standing up for the doctrines of our faith. Maybe that is true sometimes. Occasionally we can compromise a little too much.  But often we have worked along side popular culture because it’s actually the Christ like thing to do.  Ordaining women at the height of the women’s movement.  Did we do that just because that was what the public was telling us needed to happen, or were we listening to the movement of the Holy Spirit and studying the scriptures as well the traditions of the early church? When we consecrated the first openly gay man as a bishop, were we going along  with popular culture or were we once again moving with the Holy Spirit and as our baptismal covenant says---respecting the dignity of every human being?  I am biased, but I believe we were moving with the Holy Spirit. We have made many mistakes in the church over the years, but we have also corrected a lot of those mistakes, often with the help of people who are not in the church.

          Today, an interesting thing is happening. Popular culture is moving in a different way.   Many are trying to rebrand Christianity, in ways that I think are contrary to much of what Jesus taught. Some are trying to make Christianity the religion of the empire and that was never Jesus’ intention.  We Episcopalians have a unique opportunity right now to be counter cultural, as the church was when it started.  We can be holy in a different sense of the word.  We are not set apart from the world, we are just refusing to go along with what popular culture is trying to sell as Christianity. 

I was struggling with this sermon I asked my 9 year old son what he thought holy meant and he said, “When you host a party, you wash everyone’s feet.”  He didn’t try to define holiness.  He said what it does.  Holiness isn’t a state of being. It’s action.  And that is exactly what our Gospel is about.  After Jesus shared the beatitudes where he lifted up a very counter cultural message he said, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.  Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you…”

          It’s probably one of the hardest messages of the Christian faith.  It would be easier to be separate from these people who are hating us, abusing us, stealing from us, begging….  But holiness, and saintliness is not about how we separate ourselves.  It’s how we connect ourselves to one another.  That doesn’t mean we don’t stand for what we believe in even when it is contrary to what others are saying we should believe.  It means we don’t stand alone.  We continue to stand in the midst of the chaos, the crime, the self righteousness, the anger, the hate….all those things we want to ignore.  We stand in the midst, sometimes holding up the others who can’t stand for themselves because they have been too beaten down, too battered.  We stand with them or we don’t bother standing at all.

          This is where the community of the saints comes together. This is why we read the names of the beloved faithful who have died over this past year and we baptize children who have no idea what they are getting into (but have parents and godparents who do) and we baptize adults like Matt who knows mostly what he is getting himself into.  You are not just being baptized for yourselves, but for the whole community, so you have strength to stand for others, the strength to do the hard things like loving our enemies….even the really really annoying ones.  And it’s ok if you are not there yet, whether you are a child, or a young adult, or you are 94.  I am not sure I am ever going to get good at loving my enemy.

          But I worship a man named Jesus who was born as a baby to poor parents and was killed by the Roman empire for crimes he didn’t commit and forgave those people as he was dying on the cross….and then rose from the dead because he wasn’t just a really good guy. He’s God and he showed us all—not just what holiness looks like, but what it does. 

No hero here: October 26, 2025

Luke 18: 9-14                                                                 Year C, Pentecost 19                                                        

              Every time stewardship Sunday comes up, I look at the readings with a little more trepidation than usual.  Early on in my ministry I made a promise to myself that I would always preach the text of the day. I felt that would hold me accountable, rather than just talking about what I wanted to talk about on any given day.   Sometimes, that is really inconvenient, especially today, because it’s hard to fit a stewardship sermon into these texts (but I am going to try).

          Jesus loved to tell parables to illustrate a point.  The author of the Gospel of Luke used them more than any other Gospel writer.  Often parables seem like they were meant to be confusing. Sometimes they are confusing because they don’t translate well to our modern context.  Sometimes, they seem very obvious, but they’re not.

          That is the situation we have today.  The first line sets the scene, but in a kind of ambiguous way. “Jesus told a parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  I have some questions. Who are these people?  Are they his disciples? Are they Jewish leadership who might be trying to trap him?   It would be natural to assume that Jesus was talking to Jewish leadership—the Pharisees, as there is a Pharisee mentioned in this parable.  Jesus often used parables when communicating with the Pharisees.  However, Jesus was usually a little more subtle with Pharisees. I don’t think he would have told them a story where they were the main character.  I believe the author of Luke intended this to be vague so that it would apply to lots of different kinds of people.  Most of us have trusted in ourselves from time to time…and maybe just once or twice, regarded another person with contempt.  This parable is for all of us.

          It seems straightforward, but isn’t, because they rarely are.  There are two characters…one is the righteous Pharisee and the other is the penitent tax collector. If you have heard enough of my sermons, you know that I like to be careful in how I talk about Pharisees. They were vilified in the gospels to some extent and that led some Christians to vilify all Jews.  We know that was not Jesus’ intent. 

The Pharisee’s prayer sounds obnoxious because he’s comparing himself to others.  It sounds like he’s bragging. But then he goes on to say, “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.”  First of all, how many of you know someone who loves to tell you how great they feel doing intermittent fasting? Are they any worse than this Pharisee? Fasting was only required a few times a year in the Jewish faith.  This man was going above and beyond.  He wasn’t doing it to kick start his metabolism, it was a form of prayer.  The reason fasting is a spiritual discipline is because it focuses the mind and helps people focus on God.  He was praying and that’s a good thing. Then there is the giving.  This is why this is an unfortunate text for stewardship.   The guy who gives a tenth of his income is the one who isn’t justified.   He is righteous…but not justified.  Is it because he gives, or is it because he relies on what he can give, rather than what God has already given?

          It’s the tax collector who goes home justified.   Now, most people probably don’t love the IRS, but in general, we don’t perceive their profession as sinful.  During Jesus’ time, the tax collectors were often Jewish people who were working for the Roman government.  They were collecting taxes from their fellow Jews.  That money supported the Roman occupation of their land.  To make things worse, often tax collectors would take even more than the Romans were asking for to line their pockets.  Given the guilt this man was experiencing, there is a good chance he was one of those people.  Yet it’s him who is justified.  Was there something magic in this prayer, the prayer that is often referred to as the “sinner’s prayer?” “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” It wasn’t the prayer itself.

          Let’s return to the first line of this reading.  “Jesus told a parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.”  It’s not about either of their professions or even their characters.  It’s about with whom they were putting their.

          For all we know, the Pharisee was righteous.  He was following the law, praying, worshipping and being generous.  He was making sure that he was doing all the right things because he wanted to be right.  Righteousness is about what we accomplish, what we can earn and do.  It’s not a bad thing.  It’s actually a good thing to some extent.  But where we go wrong is when we use our righteousness to put other people down.  Where we go wrong is when we think that we can do this all ourselves.  We don’t need God’s forgiveness or grace because we are good on our own.  We still might worship God because that is the right thing to do, but we don’t worship God because we need God.

          The tax collector wasn’t righteous, but he went home justified.  The difference between being justified and righteous is that it’s God who justifies and if God justifies then we are counted as righteous no matter what we have done.  The tax collector went home justified because he recognized his own need and that he was nothing without God’s love and forgiveness.  The Pharisee didn’t bother asking for forgiveness because he didn’t realize he needed it.

          You might be thinking, well I am definitely not  like that Pharisee and you might be even thinking of a couple people who you have known who are a bit like the Pharisee and isn’t it great that you aren’t like them. And if you are thinking that, well then you have committed the same sin as the Pharisee.  That’s the little twist of the parable.   That’s why it’s not as simple as it appears.  If you walk away thinking there is a hero in this story and there is definitely someone who is wrong, then it’s time to reframe.

          The last line of this reading says, “I tell you, this man (the tax collector) went down to his home justified rather than the other…” If you look at the Greek that is translated to “rather than”, you will see that it could also mean “along side.”  It would read, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified along side the other…”  There is no winner or loser.  There is no hero of this story.  They left along side one another.  Maybe they were 20 yards apart not daring to look at one another.  But in God’s eyes, they were the same, sinners in need of love and forgiveness. 

          It’s the same with this church community.  We are all in this together.  Some of us might be really good at following the rules and checking all the boxes.   We might be comfortable in these pews, confident that we belong here. Others might have had a rougher road and feel like we don’t belong here, that we aren’t good enough. In the end, we are all sinners in need of redemption. None of us are good enough on our own.  It’s God who makes us good.  It’s God who justifies. 

The thing about church is we need all sorts.  We need the people who are good at following the rules.  We need the people who know what it is to be desperate and to rely on God because God is the most steady thing in their lives.  We need the people who can give generously and we need the people who can’t provide financially, but can give in a number of other ways.  We are all in this together. 

          We give not because it’s the right thing to do, but because we are better people when we give.  We give not to be righteous, but because we have already been justified by the one who gave everything.

Wrestling/Boxing with Prayer: October 19

Luke 18:1-8                                Year C, Pentecost 22                                                                                                                                

            In 1974, Muhammad Ali was set to fight George Foreman who was the Heavy Weight Champion of the World.   Foreman was younger and stronger.  He was favored to win, not only because he was the Heavy Weight Champion, but because of his superior punching power.   In the first 5 or 6 rounds of the match, it appeared that Ali was being pummeled.  It looked so horrible, so painful, people watching were afraid he would die in the ring.  Yet, by the end of round 5, it was clear that Foreman was tiring and Ali was able to go on the offensive.  In the 8^th round, Ali knocked him out.  It is one of the most famous fights in the history of boxing and I promise that if you keep listening, I’m going to make a connection to the Gospel. 

 

            This Gospel reading is probably one of the most well-known parables about prayer.    It has a lot of different interpretations, but the most popular is that of the persistent widow. There are a couple of things you need to know about widows in ancient Israel.  They were the poorest of the poor.  If a woman did not have a husband to support her, she either had to remarry or depend on another male relative.  If she was too old to marry, then she would depend on a son.   If she did not have a son, then her only option was to beg on the street.  Because of this, there were several Jewish laws meant to protect widows, although they were fairly limited in their scope.  As a result, widows became a symbol for all those who were poor and oppressed; all of those who needed to fight for their right to be heard. 

            It is clear that this widow did not have a male relative who was caring for her.  If she did, she would not have been the one in front of the judge.    She was at the mercy of a judge who had no fear of God and no respect for anyone.  She could not beg for mercy.  She could not appeal to his sense of justice or his respect for the law.  The only power she had in her arsenal was perseverance, and it would appear, more than her fair share of feistiness.  

          Most of the New Testament was translated from Greek.  Some things have been lost in translation.  The English translation we use in the Episcopal Church (The New Revised Standard Version) says that the judge said, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she many not wear me out continually by her coming.”  Virtually every commentary I read said that the last part of the verse (wear me out continually) is not a good translation.   The literal translation would be, “she will end up giving me a black eye.”   

People are divided about what Jesus meant by this.  Some say the judge was actually worried that she would hit him.  Others say that black eye is a euphemism for public shame.  Still others, (and this is my choice) hypothesized that it was both.  He was afraid this woman would hit him and that black eye would result in public shame.  The judge, who had no fear of God and no respect for anyone, was afraid of public shaming, even if it was by a poor and powerless widow.   It would seem that she wasn’t so powerless after all.

            I believe that there are some times when it is good to feel a little powerless.  It is a humbling experience.  And we must always remember that we are all powerless before the majesty of God.  Yet there is a time when being powerless feels more like hopelessness, and that is never a good thing.  This woman, while powerless, was never without hope.  If she had been, she would not have gone back again and again.  Where did she get that hope?  The last line of the Gospel reading gives us a good clue.  Jesus concludes the parable by asking, “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”  Her hope was rooted in faith, and that faith gave her strength to persevere, even when the fight had probably gone out of her. 

            Some people think this parable means that if you are persistent enough in your prayer life, your prayer will be answered.  I have tried that and I have known many people who have tried it.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes it does not.   When it does not work, it can be faith shattering.  It can crush the strongest, the most powerful, and the most fortunate.  In my experience, prayer is about the process and not the outcome.   Sometimes that process will feel more like a boxing match, or a wrestling match than a quiet moment with God.   

            Jesus prayed a lot.  That probably seems obvious, but when you think about, it’s actually kind of odd.  He prayed, even though he had control over the outcome.  Sometimes he prayed all night.  The night before he was arrested, his prayer was such a struggle that he actually sweat blood.  Was he trying to change the mind of God, or was he preparing himself for what was about to happen?  I believe he was preparing himself, and that prayer, it was a battle.  He was going to work that out with God.  In the end, it did not free him from his death on the cross, but it gave him the strength to die in peace. 

            What Ali was doing the first 5 rounds of that fight was wearing out George Foreman.  In essence, he was preparing for the moment when he could overcome his opponent.  But in preparing, he took a beating and sometimes that is what prayer feels like, even when the outcome is the one we want.  He won that fight, but what I find most interesting was what happened to George Foreman.  He lost to Ali and he lost a couple matches after that. Then he became an ordained minister and did ministry full time for at least 10 years.  After that, he announced a comeback.  At age 45, 20 years after that fight against Ali, he won the Heavy Weight Championship again.  He was oldest person to ever win that.  It took him 20 years, but he never gave up.            

 Prayer is a process and it is not for the faint of heart.  It’s for those people who are willing to engage in a struggle.  Usually it is a struggle of the heart and not the fists (in fact we really discourage fighting in the Christian Church).   Yet most of us know that emotional blows can be just as painful as physical ones.  Sometimes our prayers will be answered after 5 rounds of beating like Muhammad Ali.  Sometimes it will take 20 years like George Foreman.  Sometimes it will seem like no matter how hard we fight, how good we are, how just our prayer, it will never get answered, not in this lifetime.  It is those times, when we have to remember that our prayer is not meant to change God’s mind, but ours.  

It is meant to make us into the person who can handle what an unanswered prayer feels like.   My prayer for each and every one of you is not only that your prayers be answered, but that when they are not answered in the way you think they should be, you will have the strength for the next round.  We are all fighting so many small battles and many of those battles have left us wounded.  The thing about the struggles we have with God is that while they don’t make us stronger physically, those struggles can strengthen us spiritually.  And if we have that strength at the core of our being, then we can handle the other struggles that come our way.  Even when our body is breaking or we feel like we are just this close to a mental breakdown, that core strength—that place where God resides in us—that will hold us up so we can face another day and never, ever, lose heart.

 

Clear as Mud?: Oct 12

 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-17c                                         Year C, Pentecost 18                                                                               

            The seminary where I received my degree now has something called a “farminary.” It’s a farm on Princeton Seminary’s land where the students maintain the crops and can take classes like: “Thinking Theologically with soil.” One of the goals of the project is to understand the interconnectedness of life and death.  I was there for a conference and we went on a tour and heard a talk from the director of the project.  One of my friends had heard this talk many times and she said, “I really don’t need to bring home any more dirt.”  Apparently the director always made a connection about how compost was made out of dead things and then brought forth new life.  Then he gave everyone some dirt to remind them of this idea.  There were some pastors there who were weeping as they took their bottle of dirt but I kept thinking, “What am I supposed to do with this when I get home? I don’t garden.”

Recently I saw a friend who I attended that conference with and she said, “I always smile when I see that dirt and think of how annoyed you were when we got it.”  I had forgotten about my weird annoyance regarding the dirt. When I came home from my most recent conference, I realized, I still had that dirt on one of my book cases.  It’s in a nice little glass jar. Apparently it meant more to me than I was willing to admit at the time.

            Our reading from 2^nd Kings is relatable, even though it doesn’t seem like it should be.  Naaman is a commander in the army.  He is also a desperate man, but he is a desperate man with resources and probably a little too much pride.  He tried all the methods of healing in his homeland but none of them cured him.  He just happened to have an enslaved girl serving his family who was taken on a military raid.  It’s a detail that is just skimmed over, probably because it was a common practice at the time.  Yet, it’s interesting that this young girl, who has been enslaved, is the one to offer a suggestion for another avenue of healing….which turns out to be the one that works.  What is even more incredible is, someone (Naaman’s wife) listens to this young girl and Naaman listens to his wife.  Of course, it’s amazing what we will do when we have tried everything else and are still searching for healing.

            Our reading skips a few verses. Before Naaman went to the king of Israel, he went to his own king to tell him his plan.  That king sent a letter with him, kind of like a reference letter.  The text that was omitted mentions that Naaman took silver, gold and 10 festal garments.  He was prepared to impress people and provide payment for whatever healing he might receive.

            But the king of Israel can’t help him.  Hearing this, the prophet Elisha offers his help and sends for him.  When Naaman arrives with his impressive entourage, Elisha doesn’t even go out to meet him.  Two kings had met this man in person, but Elisha, leaves him on the doorstep with a message that he should go wash in the Jordan seven times. Naaman has proved that he is desperate to be healed and willing  to go out of his way to do so…but he is not pleased with this advice from Elisha, especially given that he had not even bothered to deliver the advice himself. 

He had water in his own country, from better rivers, and now this man is telling him to wash in their inferior river? If all he needed was a good bath, he would not have needed to come all this way with his gold, silver and 10 festal garments.  I bet he was even wearing one of these amazing outfits and now he was supposed to wash himself in the mud and the grime of the Jordan river.

He’s angry.  The text says that he walked away in a rage.  Then one of his servants approaches and says, “If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?” It would seem that these servants know him very well.   Naaman listens and does as the prophet told him.  Wouldn’t you know it, it works? The water cleanses him and he is healed.  He returns to Elisha with his whole entourage and says, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”  Then Naaman offers Elisha a gift.  Afterall, he had brought all this gold and silver…the festal outfits.  Elisha refuses the gift.

Here is where things get even more interesting and this part isn’t in our text for today.  It comes right after.  Naaman doesn’t get offended as one might expect.  Instead he asks for something.  He asks for two wagons full of dirt.  He realizes that he is on holy ground and it isn’t holy because there is a magnificent temple.  It’s holy because of the God that they worship.  It is holy because it is a place he found healing.  It is holy because he set down his pride, listened to his servant and bathed in a muddy river. He came with gold and silver and left with two carts full of dirt.

It doesn’t say what he did with that dirt when he got home.  One theory is that he built and altar to the one true God on top of that dirt.  But I like to think that he just left it in a pile right by his house, waiting for inspiration to strike.  Maybe something grew on it.  Maybe nothing did, but it reminded him of how the most basic of things can bring healing, how even the muddiest rivers can still cleanse us.

I will admit that when I was at the conference and heard from my friend this was a talk that had been given many times, I prepared myself to be unimpressed.  I would not be moved by a rehearsed story about compost.  That was my pride and my loss.   I am not sure what I am going to do with this small pile of dirt.  I think, I might just hold on to it, as a reminder that even the most basic stories….even the most simple methods of healing can still be miraculous.  Sometimes a little water and the right dirt can heal wounds or grow something new.  It’s normal to assume our faith should be complicated and incomprehensible.  But sometimes it’s so unbearably obvious, we sophisticated Episcopalians have a hard time seeing it. 

In this story, wisdom comes from unexpected sources, like servants and an enslaved girl.  Healing comes from a muddy bath and an unassuming prophet. As Christians, we believe that eternal life comes from the death of a man who lived 2000 years ago and would never have been described as sophisticated or erudite.  Yet somehow, he was God…a God worth believing in, even though we might prefer something more complicated.  I love to preach on the texts that are complicated and confusing.  I love to dig into the details.  I tell people that the Bible and our faith can be confusing.  But then there are also aspects of our faith that are exquisitely simple…simple to understand and yet still hard to believe.

Paul’s 2^nd letter to Timothy was written while he was imprisoned.  He wrote, “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendent of David—that is my gospel…”  This was before there was a creed, church councils or even the Gospels as we know them.  Before anyone was ordained and had theological training.  Paul said that we are to remember Jesus Christ who lived as human being and was raised from the dead.  Maybe it really is that simple.  Remember Jesus Christ.

Uncomfortable Words: Sept 28

Year C, Pentecost 16                     Luke 16:19-31                                                                         It’s that time of the church year when many of the Gospel readings are confusing, depressing or distressing.  Last week’s was confusing.  This week’s seems clear as a bell, and a little distressing.  We are Episcopalians and we don’t typically talk about things like judgment and eternal damnation, which might make us reluctant to study this Gospel text.  But this reading from Luke is about the more than judgment and consequences.

The final line of our reading from last week was, “No slave can serve two masters for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”  After that, we have 5 verses that we skip before we come to our reading for today.  Those 5 skipped verses are important because they create a connection between last week’s reading and this one as well as providing some context.  Right after Jesus says that you can’t serve God and wealth, the author of the Gospel writes, “The Pharisees who were lovers of money, heard all this and ridiculed him.”  Bad move Pharisees.  Bad move.

            The Pharisees get a bad rap when we Christians talk about them. Sometimes it’s fair, but often not.  There were some good and devout Pharisees who cared for the poor.  There were others who didn’t.  There was one thing that all Pharisees had in common.  That was that they knew the Hebrew Scriptures—which for us is the Old Testament.  Chapter 28 of Deuteronomy says that if you obey the commandments, ^“The Lord will make you abound in prosperity, in the fruit of your womb, in the fruit of your livestock, and in the fruit of your land...”  You will vanquish your enemies.  You will be successful in all things.  Therefore, the Pharisees tended to associate obedience and faithfulness with wealth and prosperity. One can understand why they did.

            Jesus wasn’t contradicting them as much as he was attempting to deepen their understanding and he did that by setting an example in the way that he lived and the company he kept.  He lived with just what he needed.  He certainly spent time with the rich and powerful, but he spent most of his time with the poor and oppressed because that was who needed him the most.  Those were the people who were so often forgotten and ignored. 

            However, it seems his example wasn’t quite enough, so he did what he often did when confronted with a stiff necked audience, he told a story.  This is a fairly well known story. There is a rich man and a poor beggar who sits outside his gates.  The rich man feasts every day behind his high walls.  He is wrapped in the finest clothing.  He has everything he could possibly want.  But he ignores the beggar at his gate.  

There were no social safety nets back then.  The rich were the only safety net.  Many wealthy homes even had a bench outside the gate for the poor to wait for handouts. But this rich man didn’t even give away his leftovers to the poor soul who waited outside his home every day.  As the story goes, the wealthy man went to Hades and Lazarus went to heaven and was seated by Abraham (that’s a good seat in heaven).

            Many people think that Jesus is vilifying rich people with this story.  It is much more nuanced than that. Remember, he was talking to the Pharisees who (at least in this story) were lovers of money.  But they were also supposed to be followers of the law.  At the beginning of this sermon, I quoted Deuteronomy 28---about how those who obey God will reap rewards.  Chapter 15 of Deuteronomy says that “You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy, to the poor in the land.”  The Old Testament is full of passages commanding the faithful to take care of the poor, the widows, the orphans, and the strangers in their land. 

            So this put the Pharisees in a pickle. This rich man clearly was not obeying God’s law in his treatment to the poor.  How did he get so rich?  Maybe there isn’t a direct correlation between being successful and being faithful.  Maybe success and wealth can even insulate us and allow us to ignore certain needs of the community.

            What is particularly tragic about this rich man is that even when he is sent to hell, he still doesn’t learn his lesson.  He is still bossing Lazarus around asking him for some water.  He then demands that Lazarus sends a message to his brothers.  But here’s the kicker, he doesn’t even know what to say in the message.  He just asks that his brothers be warned so they don’t end up in hell with him.  To that Abraham responds, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.”   But no, the rich man says, if someone comes back from the dead, then they we will listen.  Abraham replies, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”  (A bit of foreshadowing there.)

            When we read and interpret parables, we often identify with someone in the parable.  Usually when I read this one, I find an uncomfortable familiarity with the rich man. I am not rich by many standards, but compared to most in our world, I definitely am.  I have passed by many people asking for money.  Sometimes I give them something, sometimes I don’t. 

            But I wonder if in this story, we are actually those 5 brothers who the rich man wants to warn.  When Abraham refers to Moses and the prophets, he’s talking about Holy Scripture-the Bible.  We have an Old and New Testament now. And in that New Testament is a story about a man named Jesus who told these wonderful stories, cured the sick, loved the unlovable, died a horrible death and then returned from the dead so he could prove that he was the Son of God and maybe, just maybe, so we would listen to what he taught.  We have more than we need to be disciples of Christ.  We don’t need someone coming down from heaven to tell us some great secret, because we have it all. And one of the most consistent teachings in the Bible is that we care for the poor, the hurting, the oppressed, the marginalized.  It’s in the Old Testament.  It’s in the New Testament.  And it’s definitely in the words and actions of Jesus.

            We can read this parable as one of judgment.  This is what happens when you are selfish and don’t help people.  Or we can put ourselves in the position of one of the brothers. We can read this parable as an opportunity to be better. Those opportunities never end.

 I am really proud of what the people in our outreach committee have done. They are making at least 2 meals a month for people who are in need. Cheryl has told me that there are different people volunteering every week and I am grateful that so many of you are committed to this work.  But I think there is more we can do and I am hoping that we as a church can discern the needs of the people who call our streets their home.  In order to do so, we have to allow ourselves to witness the suffering in our community, to be uncomfortable.  The problem with the Pharisees is that they were able to separate themselves and even use their faith to justify that separation.  Our faith should not give us excuses to separate, but inspire us to remove the chasms between us, to love deeper and seek God in all people.

 

Mercy is the Antidote to Violence: Sept 14

Year C, Pentecost 14                                       Luke 15:1-10                                                                                   It’s been a very rough week.  At the same time, given how the last few years have been, it feels far too familiar.  I was reading one article that said that political violence comes in waves.  It’s contagious.  What the author didn’t explain was how it was stopped. Some contagious viruses just run their course.  Others require an antidote, a vaccine. We saw that with COVID.      

On the same day that Charlie Kirk was gunned down, there was another shooting in a school.  The shootings were within minutes of one another, one in Utah, the other in the neighboring state of Colorado.  Fortunately the student in Colorado did not succeed in killing anyone.  He wounded two teens and then killed himself, which is also tragic.

I remember when the shooting at Columbine happened. I remember because it was the first mass school shooting (actually the first school shooting) I had ever heard of.  Apparently there was also one in 1966 on a college campus, but that was before my time.  That was 30 years before the Columbine shooting.  The previous mass school shooting was 200 years before that in the 1700s.  Now school shootings are far too common.  We expect them. That is the reality that our children live in.  

What is the antidote?    There is a lot that can be said in regards to public policy.  When we are more concerned about the right to bear arms than the rights of our children to live, we have a serious problem.  But I am here to talk about God and the readings for today.  While I think that sensible laws can help, I also believe that there is a deeper problem in our world that is spiritual.   The antidote to violence is mercy.

                We see several references to mercy in our readings for today.  We see it in our Old Testament reading when God relents and decides not to punish the people of Israel.  In our Psalm, we hear the Psalmist ask for mercy. Paul talks about the fact that God’s mercy had allowed him to change from a blasphemer and violent persecutor into an apostle of Jesus Christ.

                The Gospel reading is also about mercy, even though it doesn’t use that word.  Jesus tells three parables (only 2 that are included in today’s reading).  These parables are told in response to comments that the Pharisees and the scribes made.  They were grumbling and talking about the fact that Jesus welcomed sinners and ate with them. 

I realize it might seem silly to judge someone because they were eating with sinners, especially when we know that all of us are sinners to one degree or another.  These people weren’t sinners in the way that we are all sinners.  They were sinners who were known by the whole community as sinners.  We might call them notorious sinners.  What upset the Pharisees was not that Jesus was merely talking to these sinners, but that he was sharing a meal with them.  According to Jewish law, observant Jews were not supposed to eat with notorious sinners.  Jesus was not just an observant Jew, he was recognized as a leader in the Jewish community.  This act was scandalous. 

Let’s just assume these were the kind of sinners you wouldn’t want to be sharing a meal with.   Imagine someone you see in person or on the news and you think , those are just horrible human beings.  How can they live with themselves?  Imagine Jesus sharing a meal with those people.

In response to this criticism, Jesus tells three stories of things, animals or people who were lost.  The first was about a shepherd who left 99 sheep to find the one who got away. The second was about a woman who lost one coin and while she still had 9, she looked fervently for this one lost coin until she found it. When both the shepherd and the woman found the sheep and the coin, they called all their friends and had a party. They were so happy they had found the one thing that they had lost.  Jesus then says, “Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Who was lost in this story? Was it the sinners who were eating with Jesus or was it the Pharisees and scribes who were judging them? I think it was both. They were just lost in different ways.  The difference between the two were that one group knew that they were lost and one group thought they had it all figured out. Jesus would have been overjoyed to be with either group, but one group didn’t think they really needed him and the other group knew they needed him, or maybe they were realizing that bit by bit.

Both groups deserved mercy.  Mercy is a word that we don’t use very often.  We use it in church.  It’s all over our liturgy.  But is that something you pray for…for yourself or others? It’s not something that I often pray for and I had to wonder why.  I think I associate mercy with what comes after punishment.  We really don’t like talking about punishment, do we? 

Since we had our annual dinner with Mikveh Israel this Wednesday, I looked up the Hebrew word for mercy.  It shares the same root as the Hebrew word for womb.  The idea is that God’s mercy towards humanity is like the protection that a baby has in the womb.  Mercy isn’t an alternative to punishment.  It’s divine protection.  It’s also more than divine protection.  It’s about how we protect one another, literally and figuratively.

I started the sermon by saying that the antidote to violence is mercy.  I don’t mean that God’s mercy literally protect us from bullets.  That’s not how it works.  What I mean is that God’s mercy and our ability to be vessels of that mercy can stop the virus of violence from spreading. 

I had never heard of Charlie Kirk before Wednesday.  Yet as soon as the news broke that he died it was like people were equipping for battle.  The right blamed the rhetoric of the radical left and even implied that it was someone on the radical left who fired the gun.  The left blamed it on the rhetoric of the right and some even blamed it on the words of Kirk himself.  And then the right and the left started judging one another on their reactions. Once the shooter was caught, people on the left could not help but mention that his parents were Republicans and gun owners. 

This seems to happen so often when we discover the identity of the perpetrators of these evil acts.  We dissect their lives until we can find that one thing that will align them with whoever is on the other side.  Lord have mercy.

Yet who does Jesus align himself with? The lost.  The sinner and the outcast.  We are all lost.  We are all sinners.  We are all cast out in some way or another.  The sooner we can see that, the sooner we can stop vilifying one another and actually work for a solution.  I would guess that the vast majority of people in this country do not support murdering our political opponents.  The vast majority don’t think our children should have to risk their lives to be educated.  Yet we can’t put down our differences for just a few days to come up with some solution?

Each one of us desperately needs God’s mercy.  But here’s the beautiful thing. Our need for mercy is also the source of mercy.  If we can clearly see our own need for mercy, we can more willingly provide that mercy to others.  If we can see ourselves as lost, then imagine how much easier it will be to find one another.