Faith & Works

Luke 10:38-42

I once served a church that had a board of deacons made up entirely of women. It had been like that for a long time. And so the first year I worked with the nominating committee I strongly encouraged them to consider some men who might be called to serve as a deacon. 

Not too long after that I got a visit to my office from Doreen, the moderator of the Deacons. She was in a fit. She said, “I heard you all nominated Ty for deacon. Just tell me: what am I supposed to do with him? He can’t bake!”

I tried to argue that there was really much more to the ministry of the deacons than baking cookies, but Doreen was still doubtful. “Well, besides,” I said, “How do you know he can’t bake?” 

I had no idea at all if Ty could bake a batch of cookies, but mostly I wanted to get beyond the ideas everyone had about women’s work and men’s work. There are some pretty resistant ideas about gender roles in the church, and when people step out of bounds, you never know what might happen. 

You might be surprised that this little story about Mary and Martha and Jesus arouses as much passion as it does. In its own little domestic way, it is about as provocative as Jesus’ most shocking parables. Everybody has something to say about it.

Most people, based on my informal assessment, seem to disagree with Jesus. People feel very strongly that Mary really should have been in the kitchen with Martha. But not necessarily because they believe a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Most people seem to feel this way because they are sympathetic to Martha and the burden she is carrying.

When good church people look at Mary – let’s admit it – we think she is lazy. She should be helping her sister. 

But that is not to say that Martha doesn’t have every right to sit at Jesus’ feet, too. Sitting at Jesus’ feet to learn is a very good thing, right? It’s not just for men, right?

It’s pretty easy to get tied up in knots with this story. Most of the women’s voices I have heard speaking about this, you can tell they’re tied up in knots. They will say, yes it would have been fabulous for Martha to go sit beside her sister at Jesus’ feet. But we just have one question: is anyone going to eat? Who will prepare the food? 

I don’t know if anyone here needs to hear this, but I’ll just say it: food doesn’t cook itself. 

No one in the story seems at all concerned about what any of the male disciples were doing. Where were they? Hanging out in the yard smoking, telling stories, waiting for someone to call them in for dinner? 

Not to say the men were useless. If Martha needed a jar opened, or if she needed something from the top shelf, they would have been right there. But they’re not going to be much help stuffing the little mushroom caps or putting the toothpicks in the bacon-wrapped water chestnuts.  For that she’s going to need Mary.

A story like this pushes our buttons. Because as much as things have changed, and they really have – I always thought my father would have starved to death if there wasn’t a woman around to put a plate of food in front of him – it is still true that women do the majority of the domestic work.

But, as Jesus said to Martha, let’s not get worried and distracted by these things. Because I don’t believe this story really has anything to do with gender roles or housework. It’s about figuring out what the one thing is that’s needed. At any particular time and place, what is the most needful thing?

Churches, maybe Presbyterian churches in particular, are full of Marthas. Both male and female Marthas. Because we know, what would happen otherwise? If it weren’t for Martha, how would the coffee get made, the candles get filled, the paraments get changed to the proper color for the season? How would we have music or sound or flowers? Would we just let the light bulbs all burn out until eventually we were sitting in darkness? On communion Sunday, would we just have to imagine we are eating the bread and drinking the cup because no one bothered to prepare the elements? Would we let the bulletins sit in the office and figure that if people want one, they can just go to the office and get one? 

There are so many things that need to be done. What is this “one thing” Jesus speaks of?

I once took it upon myself to teach a small group of Presbyterians how to practice contemplative prayer. I told them this is what it is: a simple practice of sitting in a comfortable position, closing your eyes, and clearing your mind of all distracting thoughts. For about 20 minutes. 

Go ahead and clear all that stuff out of the way and wait for God to speak to you. And if, while you’re waiting, your mind starts to run off chasing some thought, gently pull it back. Okay? So we gave it a try.

After about five minutes, one of the men in the group, Steve, let out an exasperated sigh. “O man, my mind was everywhere,” he said. “I was thinking about everything I have going on at work, at home, all the things I need to do.”

His wife Connie, sitting next to him, smiled. She said, “I just imagined myself sitting at Jesus’ feet. And whenever a thought or a worry came in my mind, I imagined taking it in my hands and laying it down at his feet. And it was easy to let it go.” 

Such a showoff those Marys can be. But, really, answer me this: How is the church going to show love to our neighbors if all we ever do is sit at Jesus’ feet? 

Who is going to collect the groceries and take them over to the food pantry for the poor? Who is going to pack up the bags with food and take them to the school so kids will have something to eat over the weekend? Who is going to greet newcomers and let them know they are welcome here, they are wanted here? Who is going to teach the children and let them know that God loves them, and we love them? 

There are so many things that need to be done. What is this “one needful thing?”

I don’t think anyone seriously questions the idea that there are many things the church should be doing. There are many things Jesus told us we should be doing: feeding the hungry, healing the sick, clothing the naked and housing the homeless, comforting the afflicted and freeing the oppressed – these are not just distractions, but real ministry.

Jesus wants us to work for justice as well as for peace, to do God’s will on earth as it is in heaven. You know, not much. 

I once participated in a program that was intended to revitalize congregations. The focus was on figuring out what the congregation’s particular gifts are, then figuring out what the community’s particular needs are, and then making a plan to do something. Just do something.

The consultants who led this program were so energetic and creative and just great at coming up with heaping handfuls of ideas that would help a congregation get moving, get working. But at a certain point I had to admit to myself that I felt something lacking. There was one thing, one needful thing, that was missing for me. To sit at the feet of Jesus.

And without that I felt empty. And tired. Anxious. And maybe a little cranky.

Connie, who was in that contemplative prayer group I led – you know Connie, the one who bears a very strong resemblance to Mary? It wasn’t surprising that she felt at ease with contemplative prayer. Connie was a powerful pray-er, everyone knew it. She walked around with something almost like an aura, she radiated spirituality. 

But do you know what else Connie did? Connie ran a soup kitchen in the church every Saturday. This kitchen fed hundreds of people every week. There were dozens of volunteers. Every church in the community, and other organizations, too, contributed to the soup kitchen in some way. 

The people came to this soup kitchen to have their bodies fed with good food, and their souls fed with love and joy. There was no one, no matter how difficult, who did not get loved and fed. Connie was the heart and the energy behind this. And Connie could not have done it if she did not, regularly, spend time at Jesus’ feet. 

You know, I have been to other soup kitchens that aren’t like that. Places where you see people bustling around the kitchen, tired and short-tempered, resentful. Maybe a little bit like Martha was that day when she came storming out of the kitchen complaining. The people I see at those places, I think maybe they have forgotten why they are doing the ministry they are doing.

Because it turns out there really is just one thing that is needed: to stay close to Jesus, to listen to Jesus. 

The church very much needs all of Martha’s qualities. Martha knew her ministry of caring and feeding Jesus and the disciples. There is still so much ministry that needs doing. In these times, it is critical for the church to show the world what the gospel of Jesus has to say for them and give to them. It is a message of radical love and generosity. 

At a time when the politics and the culture are shouting things that are so very different from Jesus’ message, our voices and our actions are necessary. But the only way we can get up every day and embody the message of love is if we stay close to Jesus. Listen to Jesus, letting his wisdom and creative love pour into you and fill you up.

All good things will flow from that.

picture: Mary & Martha, by Lauren Wright Pittman, A Sanctified Art, LLC

Lent 1: Stranger & Neighbor

Luke 10:25-37

A week ago I attended a Presbytery retreat with several other members of this congregation. It was called Fearless Dialogues; with a title like that, we all knew we were about to be nudged into our discomfort zone. And we were.

We walked into a room with chairs set up in circles. Unbeknownst to us, we had each selected a sign that would indicate what group we would be sitting with, so when I walked in I sat with a group of others whom I had never met before. 

This is not the worst thing that could happen. I have been to plenty of events where I know nobody and engage with strangers – I know how to do this. But then we were asked to do something that was a bit different from anything I had ever done before. Pair up with one other person in your circle. Sit face to face with this stranger. Begin to give this stranger a long, loving look. 

Just look into this stranger’s eyes – for 90 seconds – with love. This means really seeing this person, whom I had never met before that day. Whom I hadn’t even had a real conversation with yet. For 90 seconds. 

And then switch. Be the one who receives a long, loving look.

Was this uncomfortable? Yes, of course it was uncomfortable. How often have you given a long, loving look to a complete stranger? In most circumstances I wouldn’t recommend it. There are all kinds of reasons it would probably be a bad idea.

Today on our first Sunday in Lent, we begin this series where we stand in the midst of a very divided culture; all the issues that divide us seem to charge the air between us. We stand in the positions we have chosen, where we are expected to make judgments about everything – like, “What kind of idiot believes that?” or, “Those people only want to take things from you, to hurt you.” We stand in these spaces and we hear this invitation from Jesus: step away from your corners, get out of your boxes; come join me in all the vast space in between, because that is where God is.

It is a difficult thing to do. We might have very real and legitimate concerns about safety for ourselves and our loved ones. We might feel that if we step away from our side we are abandoning our people – our cause. We might feel it is the same thing as surrendering, that we must stand in opposition to what is wrong, what is unjust. 

But what we discover in our reading of the Gospel of Luke is that Jesus inhabited that great sea of grayness in between the black and the white. While Jesus was always clear about matters of justice, always showed compassion for his people, again and again he challenged people to open their eyes to the nuances of truth, as uncomfortable as that could be.

Today we hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, a perfect example of Jesus’ teachings on expanding one’s vision, broadening one’s circle. 

He offers the parable to the expert in the law. This man who comes before Jesus in all his arrogance, to test him on matters of law and love. Jesus is not interested in being quizzed, but when the man poses the question, “Who is my neighbor,” Jesus has something to say.

He begins a story in the time-honored tradition that he and his fellow Jews knew so well – the parable. It is a very familiar format, one his listeners probably settled into hearing quite comfortably.

A man is walking down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. He is attacked by bandits who rob him and leave him there to die.

A priest comes along and sees him lying there. He crosses over to the other side and passes him by. 

Next, a Levite comes along and sees the man lying there. He, too, crosses over and passes him by.

Now, Jesus’ listeners would have disapproved of these things. The priests enjoyed high status in Judaism. Descendants of Moses’ brother Aaron, they were entrusted with all the religious rites of the temple. It was wrong of the priest to ignore a fellow man in such dire need. 

Similarly, the Levite’s actions would have been disappointing. They had fairly high expectations of the Levites as well – both these men should have been better. If this man on the road was still alive, he clearly needed help. And if he was already dead, there is no excuse for them shirking their duty to bury the corpse. These listeners knew what was right, even though many of them were certainly neither priests nor Levites. They were just common Israelites and they knew.

Priests, Levites, Israelites. These are the three categories of people in Judaism. And so, in telling the story in this way, Jesus is setting their expectation for what comes next. It’s almost like the set up for a joke: A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar. They are familiar with this type, this set-up.

The last thing they expected to see coming next was a Samaritan.

There was a complex relationship between Jews and Samaritans. We think of them as mortal enemies, but something we ought to know about the Samaritans and the Jews is that they were actually siblings, descended from Abraham. They were all at one time members of the 12 tribes of Israel, settled in the land Moses led them to. They had all lived together under the rule of King David. But sometime after that they had become estranged. And through the centuries they each developed their own customs and cultures. They had their own temple and priesthood, their own interpretation of the scriptures, and their own beliefs about the messiah. They were rivals who distrusted one another. They resented and sometimes even hated one another.

The man lying on the road is a Jewish man. If he were conscious, how would he have felt when he saw this Samaritan approaching him? Very likely, he felt afraid.

And in fact, fear is a prominent feature throughout this whole story. There was fear for anyone traveling down this road from Jerusalem to Jericho – it was a steep road, winding through the hills, with many hiding places for bandits looking to attack a traveler. There was fear for the priest and the Levite who saw the injured man – what could happen to them if they stopped? Might the bandits be lying in wait to attack them also? And there was fear of the Samaritan, for what he might be capable of doing.

Everyone had reason to be afraid. 

Everyone has reason to be afraid. You and I, we have our reasons for staying on our side, for sticking with our assumptions and judgments about others, for refusing to reach out a hand to a stranger or enemy.

Everyone has good reasons for failing to be the one to break a cycle of violence.

One thing I learned at the retreat I attended last week was just how powerful it is to look at someone and really see them. I became aware of how often I fail to do that. There is an instinct for self-protection that makes me avert my eyes when I encounter a stranger or someone I know is different from me. But if I can overcome that instinct, what might be gained? How much more love can be set loose in the world?

Here is something interesting. That little exercise we did, where we took turns giving the long, loving look to a stranger, was revealing. We discovered that it is easier to be the instigator of the long, loving look than it is to be the recipient.

I think those who were hearing Jesus that day had similar feelings. How hard it was for them to acknowledge that someone like a Samaritan could be the one to reach out in love; that a Samaritan could be more compassionate than I am.

In that vast space between strangers and neighbors, there is room for us to step in and really see one another. The secret to taking that first step is to see the real possibility that those strangers on the other side are really just like you.

Author's note: I am indebted to Amy-Jill Levine and Ben Witherington III for their insights on the passage (The Gospel of Luke, New Cambridge Bible Commentary)

Picture Credit: "Neighbors by Steve Prince | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

Six Stone Jars: The Economy of Jesus, Week 6: More than Enough

Luke 6:27-38

Here's a test: You’re shopping online, scrolling through all the options and possibilities, thinking about what you want. You let your curser rest on one particular item, then a message pops on screen saying, “Going fast!” or “Only 2 of these left!” 

How do you react to that?

If you are like me, your immediate response is a slight feeling of alarm. The thought enters your mind, “If I want this I had better act fast or I will lose the chance. Someone else will get it.”

This happens, even if I am intellectually aware that this is a technological trick. That it’s probably not even true. That, honestly, my world will be none the worse even if I do miss out on purchasing this item. Yet, it plants this seed in my head – I might miss out.

Someone else will get it. I will miss out. This is the essence of the scarcity mindset. 

Over the past six weeks, we have been thinking about what we’re calling “The Economy of Jesus.” There are ways Jesus approaches economic matters that are radically different from what we are accustomed to, and very challenging to our own desires.

We began in January introducing something called the “Gift Economy.” Instead of approaching something with a transactional mindset, we have the option of mutual gift-giving. This means we give without strings attached. It is something that is necessary for authentic loving community to exist.

Next we listened to Jesus speak in the Synagogue as he presented his mission, or purpose. The concept of Jubilee, which is an Old Testament notion that restores others to wholeness. And if this is his purpose, then we know it is ours as well.

The next week we heard the rest of Jesus’ sermon in the synagogue, where he very pointedly told us that God is not for us and against others. In this way, we are challenged to stretch our own understanding of love.

We then considered the notion of call – something that people of faith may experience personally. In Luke’s story of how Peter, James, and John were called, we heard Jesus saying, “Go out into deeper water.” And when we do, the abundance of good things we find there will take us to a new level.

When we are listening for God’s call, we are likely to hear the call to give sacrificially – as I did. To give sacrificially is to give in trust – trust that there will be blessings galore. We are invited to lean into this blessing, even when it feels counterintuitive, because it draws us near to God and an experience of the fullness of joy therein.

And today in our reading Jesus invites us, once again, to shed our scarcity mindset and believe in God’s abundance. Because we know that God provides. We know that there really isn’t a shortage of good things in this world God created. There is abundance, which is another way of saying there is grace. Which points directly to love.

Have you ever been approached by a mother or a father who is expecting their second child, and hearing them say to you, “I am afraid I will not be able to love this child as much as I love my first child.” They are afraid they’ll come up short and there is nothing they can do about it.

At that point, if you are a parent who has been through it yourself, you might offer them assurances. You’ll say something like, “You will find that there is more love inside you than you ever imagined. You will find that love is not finite. There is an ever-expanding amount of love in you, so you will be able to love this child as much as the other.”

Most parents know this because we have been through the experience of feeling the love in us expand beyond the boundaries we thought were there. We have felt the explosion of love, the experience of feeling love in a way that we never have before. We know that love is not limited.

This is one important way that we as human beings are made in God’s image. And this truth is the foundation for everything else that matters.

Love leads to grace, which leads to generosity. And that, I will boldly declare, leads to happiness.

It’s what we are meant for, what we have been made for. You cannot really stop this abundant divine love and grace from pouring out into the world. 

There is a story about St. Francis of Assisi that illuminates this truth. Francis took these words of Jesus so seriously, he gave away everything he had and joined a monastery. In that community, he used to get in trouble for how quickly he was willing to give away his clothes to others. Francis’s abbot was aggravated about the cost of having to constantly replace Francis’s coats, so he ordered Francis to stop giving them away. But Francis found a loophole around his vow of obedience. When he met someone who needed a coat, he’d say, “I can’t give you my coat, but you could take it from me…”

The Abbott would have had to imprison Francis in his cell to stop his generosity. Which would have killed him, sooner or later. A spirit of love is meant to thrive and grow. A spirit of grace is meant to spread to infinity and beyond.

A spirit of generosity is what we are called to, my friends. Today you are invited to pledge your generosity for the coming year. We have asked you to wonder about the people and circumstances in your life that have taught you the meaning of generosity. We have asked you to examine your own giving patterns with the question, “Is there room for me to give a little more?” We have asked you to consider the very real possibility that giving sacrificially, giving in trust, will increase your joy. 

Yet, it bears repeating that no one is ever asked to give more than they can. Each of us is asked to give as we are able to – not one bit more. Today, it is my prayer that you have found the sweet spot, that level of commitment that meets all your needs.

As we bring our pledge cards to the communion table today, may you know this blessing:

A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.

Picture - Adobe Stock Images

Six Stone Jars: The Economy of Jesus, Week 5: Leaning into Blessing

Luke 6:17-26

Last week I had a case of vertigo that hit me like a ton of bricks. So I spent the week mostly in bed, unable to focus my eyes very well. The vertigo has gradually improved but I have still been left with little to do but rest my eyes and … think.

And I have been thinking about the text for the week. About blessing and woe. About the economy of Jesus, about fullness and emptiness. About giving and receiving.

There is no question in my mind that I am among the blessed – by almost any definition of the word. But when I think of the specific biblical meaning, and the unique angle Jesus presents in his sermon on the plain, this is the meaning of blessed that matters the most to me.

To talk about this, I want to go back to my childhood. I offer you today a kind of testimony. Normally when I prepare a sermon I spend time studying, reading a lot, taking things in. But this week I could not read, so I can only give you what is already inside me.

I was brought up in the Lutheran church, a place that was important in our family life. Like many of you, church was the water I swam in as a child, the air I breathed. Nothing to be questioned, only to be learned. 

And in the church, thankfully, I learned that I am loved. I learned that I am a sinner, absolutely. But unlike the experiences I know some others have had, it was not taught to me that I am a bad person. I sin because I can do no other on my own. But I am loved as a child of God and therefore forgiven. This was the most important thing I learned in my childhood, I think – that I am incurably prone to sin, but that I am nonetheless loved. Thus, I can confess my sins every day without fear, because God is always ready to forgive. Like the prodigal son, whose father will run out to embrace him when he turns his face toward home, I am forgiven.

I believe this is as solid a foundation as I could have wanted in life. Not everything was peachy keen in my world, but because my parents raised me in church, I have been blessed.

Yet, when I became an adult, I can see now that there was something lacking. I did not seem to feel that I needed to do anything in this relationship. I took what I needed, but I gave little.

It was a set of circumstances in my life in my early 30’s that changed that. When Kim and I moved from Iowa to Pennsylvania, I was unable to find a Lutheran church that felt like a good fit for me. There were three in town, I tried them all, but each time felt the answer was no. Someone suggested I try the Presbyterian Church which was only a five-minute walk from our home. And so I did.

The first time I walked in there I had a clear sense I was in the right place. I sensed that God was opening the door and welcoming me in.

It was in joining this church that I began to have a clear sense that God was doing a little more than loving and forgiving me. God was asking something of me as well. I was asked to serve on session and I knew my answer was yes immediately because I had already felt that call in my soul. I was asked to serve in other ways and the answer was always yes.

I said to you last week that the call comes in many ways and at many times during a person’s life. My first year on session, when it came to stewardship time, I discovered the call to give sacrificially. 

I know that word – sacrifice, sacrificial – is loaded with baggage, can be triggering for some of us. But it helps to deepen our understanding of the concept. Someone once told me the definition of sacrifice is to give up something good for the sake of something better. 

But doing this always requires trust. 

Sacrificial giving to me means giving in trust – But I had never done this before. 

Honestly, I had never felt like the church needed my money. There were a lot of other people, and a lot of them had more money than I did. But what I had not considered was my need to give to the church. 

Yes, it is my need as much as the church’s need. I am not fully who God intends me to be if I do not give the first fruits of my labor.

And I have to admit to you that it is always a struggle between the angel on one shoulder and the demon on the other. The demon, which will work to convince me that I just need to pamper myself a little more, that I deserve all the comforts, security, and status I can get my hands on. And the angel who will never let me hide from what I know to be true.

I chose as my title “Leaning into Blessing” because that is the choice I believe one makes. Jesus stood before the people of Israel and told them, “This is what it is to be blessed: to be hungry, to be poor, to weep. Even at times to be hated and denigrated.” Because when you seek to walk close to Jesus, there will always be those who oppose you. 

We can see that pretty clearly now as so many of Jesus’ teachings are being reviled by people with power. The recent attack against the Lutheran Church, calling them criminals and money-launderers for the work they do around the world to relieve hunger and save lives – this is something that comes to mind. “Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven,” Jesus says to the church at such moments.

We are invited to lean into this kind of blessing, not because it “hurts so good” or any such nonsense, but simply because it draws us nearer to God. 

It draws us nearer to God and brings God’s kingdom closer to earth. 

Because when we give more, then there is less need. 

When we share love, then there is less hate. 

When we offer kindness, then there is less meanness. It’s the most basic kind of arithmetic.

The word blessed (makarios) can mean a lot of different things to us. We use it in many different ways, so it is easy to get confused about the words of this passage. The things Jesus is talking about hardly sound like blessing to us. Sometimes we see the word “happy” used in its stead, but I have to say that “happy” hardly does justice to its meaning. 

It is most fundamentally about one’s relationship with God. In these words of Jesus, it would seem to say that God draws those who are in need close to Godself. So, in my mind, this is where the trust comes from. When we give, we may do so trusting that God will draw us near, that God will make a way. 

In fact, if you are choosing to give freely then God has already drawn you near. 

May we each find our way to leaning into this blessing. May we remove any obstacles that are keeping us distant from our God who loves us. May we lean in and know the fullness and the joy that await us.

Picture: Adobe Stock Images

Six Stone Jars: The Economy of Jesus, Week 4: Yearning for Meaning

Luke 5:1-11

Every living human being somehow needs to find meaning in their lives, it’s what holds us together. Why get up in the morning if there is no meaning in it? Perhaps you have experienced days of depression, when meaning was absent, and any sense of purpose was lost. Perhaps you know how that feels. Meaning is essential to our well-being.

For the fishermen, Simon Peter, James and John, it is possible that the primary meaning in their lives was providing a living for themselves and their families. Maybe they loved their work. Hopefully they took pride in it – it was hard. Sometimes you worked all night and came up empty. 

They weren’t wealthy men. As Jews in an occupied land, they were enduring the hardships of the Roman rule, which taxed them heavily and took much of the product of their labors to be sent elsewhere. There were cities nearby that were predominantly Roman cities, full of comparatively wealthy Romans. These people wanted fish, they wanted the best of the catch. The fishermen and their families, even though they did the work, were at the bottom of the food chain.

Life was hard. Sickness could rob a family of a loved one overnight. Truly, there was not much of their lives that was under their control. But something that occurred earlier in Simon Peter’s life, which Luke shares in Chapter 4, is relevant to this story. 

While in Capernaum, Jesus was invited to visit Simon Peter’s house. From the time he had arrived in Capernaum, Jesus had been in the synagogue teaching. While he was there, a man who is described as having an unclean spirit became disruptive, challenging Jesus. Jesus then commanded the spirit to come out of him and, to all appearances, that is what happened. 

Perhaps Simon Peter was there, in the synagogue, witnessing all this. If not, he probably heard about what happened as the story went around, and so he asked Jesus to come visit his house.

There was a reason Simon Peter might have wanted to bring Jesus into his home. His mother-in-law was quite ill. She was running a high fever. The others in the house asked Jesus about her – can anything be done? What do you think? Jesus healed her in a manner much like the way he had ordered out the unclean spirit from the man on the synagogue – after which he was implored by many others to do the same for them and their loved ones.

Some time later, Jesus was at the lakeshore – Lake Gennesaret, which is another name for Lake Galilee. He was trying to find some space – away from the crowds of people who kept coming after him, beseeching him to help, to heal, to give them the miracle they so badly needed in their lives. 

But the crowds followed him, pressing in on him. The more they drew near, the closer Jesus inched to the water’s edge. They left him nowhere to go. Then he saw these fishermen. They had just come ashore and were cleaning their nets. It had been a long night of fishing for them. It was one of those nights where they came up empty.

Jesus climbed into one of the boats – it was Simon Peter’s boat. Simon remembered him. This was the rabbi who had healed his mother-in-law, thanks be to God. She might have died, but for Jesus. Simon Peter was grateful, indeed, to this man.

Jesus asked Simon to put out a little way from the shore, giving him some breathing space, and Simon complied. The boat became Jesus’ stage as he continued teaching the crowds who stood on the shore.

When he was finished speaking, he turned to Simon Peter again and said, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon might have smiled, slightly, at that. He respected this man very much, but Jesus was not a fisherman. He answered him respectfully, kindly, telling him that he thought it was pointless, but he would do as Jesus asked. Why wouldn’t he, after what Jesus had done for him, for so many in his community?

As tired as he was, as many other chores as he had to do, Simon Peter took his boat out into the deep water. He let down his nets – so many fish were drawn in, the catch threatened to break the nets. 

This was nothing Simon Peter had ever seen before. Those who were in the boat with Jesus and Simon quickly called the others still at shore to come out and help them with this enormous catch. The men worked quickly, frantically, to hold onto all of it – this would more than make up for the night before. There would be fish for their families and fish to sell – lots and lots of fish to sell.

But Simon Peter is paralyzed. He has fallen to his knees. Everything that has happened. The healings…the teachings…the revival of his mother-in-law…now this. Now this.

Simon Peter is trembling, tears flow down his face. He is overcome with amazement and gratitude, awe and fear. Fear. Simon sees what is happening. In all of this, Jesus is drawing Simon into his circle – just as he drew the fish into Simon’s nets, now he draws Simon into himself. 

There will be no going home to his family. There would be no selling this abundance of fish, pulling in a handsome profit. Nothing would be as it was before. How could he possibly bear it? Suddenly, everything inside of Simon rebels. “No! Go away from me Lord; I am a sinful man!”

I am a sinful man. I am not able to be what you want of me. I am not strong enough. I am not worthy. 

Yet Jesus goes straight to the thing – the one thing that is holding Simon back. “Do not be afraid.”

Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid of loss or upheaval of your life, the gain is all yours, Simon. Do not be afraid of your weakness or of my power, they are one and the same. Do not be afraid to step away from this life and into a new life with me. From now on, Simon Peter, you will fish for people.

And so they did.

Well, it sometimes goes like that – but not always. There are as many ways of responding to the call as there are people who hear the call. And, to be honest, a call is never done – we will find ourselves being called by Jesus again and again and again, to follow him into new and different circumstances, to respond in new and different ways. On any given day, he might call you to go out into deeper water.

And most likely, we are right there with Simon Peter when we hear the call, on our knees, in tears, begging the Lord to leave us be. What? Again, Lord? What do you want of me?

Hearing the call is always hard. And frightening. We don’t know what we are being called into. We fear the risks, we hate the change, as we are wrenched away from what is familiar and comfortable. We like our life as it is. Even if we complain, it doesn’t mean we want to change.

Hearing the call is always hard. But answering the call brings surprising blessings and joy.

Every living human being somehow needs to find meaning. And so we do – we make meaning out of the small happenings of our lives. We find purpose – anything from putting a meal on the table for our loved ones to cheering on our favorite football team – or maybe cheering against our most hated team. We might find meaning and purpose in giving encouragement to someone you like, or in causing someone you dislike to feel embarrassment. There are countless ways to make meaning.

But if you are sometimes wondering if there is more…if you sometimes feel that sense of yearning, a hunger and you can’t quite figure out what you need to fill it. And so you try to feed it, to fill it…with something. But, still, there is that yearning that never seems to get satisfied. If you feel that yearning…then listen. Listen. You might hear Jesus calling you to go out into deeper water.

Do not be afraid.

Six Stone Jars: The Economy of Jesus, Week 3: Finding the Courage to Heal

Luke 4:21-30 

As I have thought about this story, my mind kept returning to the prayer service at the National Cathedral, the day after inauguration day. It is a tradition that happens every four years, but this year it got an unusual amount of attention. 

When it first came to my notice, I listened to Bishop Budde’s whole sermon, where she spoke of unity, and the things that are necessary if we hope to work toward unity. It was a good sermon, but what struck me most strongly was her voice. The bishop’s voice was gentle, soft, full of grace. I was amazed at the graciousness of her voice.

I also liked what she said. She suggested that there are three foundations for unity: honoring the inherent dignity of every human being, honesty, and humility. 

And then she closed with an appeal for mercy, which is high on the list of Christian virtues, of course. And I agreed with her, wholeheartedly, on these things.

But even as I listened to what I heard as pleasing words spoken in a pleasing voice, I sensed that it would not please everyone to hear these things. 

Something that is strange but true about human beings is that it can be very uncomfortable for us to acknowledge God’s grace and mercy, because it is difficult for us to acknowledge that we have any needs. We prefer to see ourselves as self-sufficient creatures. To acknowledge our own shortcomings and recognize the mercy and grace God is offering, can very quickly make us uncomfortable. We would much rather focus on power and strength than to look at our vulnerabilities.

Sure, we Presbyterians have a lot of practice at this, participating in the corporate confession of sin every Sunday we are asked to see ourselves as one of the weak, the vulnerable, the sinful, and yet, by the grace of God, forgiven. God’s mercy, right before us every Sunday. Still, I wonder if we can understand the human propensity to reject the notion that any of this applies to us personally.

If we can understand these things, then we might be able to understand what happened at the synagogue in Nazareth on that Sabbath day. 

Perhaps, as he read the scriptures, Jesus’ voice was as pleasing as the voice of Bishop Budde. The congregation’s immediate response was to speak well of him, to be pleased with his gracious words. But then something else happened. 

Jesus was not finished yet. It was the custom for the preacher to read the scripture standing and then to sit down to deliver his sermon, so Jesus was just getting started. He had much more to say. 

He quoted a sort of proverb, “Doctor, heal yourself,” which might have meant take care of your own first, if you expect us to take you seriously. Show a little love for your own people. It seems that Jesus is anticipating this reaction from the congregation, and it is exactly what he wants to talk about. His clear message is that the love of God is not limited to any one group of people. God’s love and salvation is offered to all of God’s creation.

These words of Jesus, as he continues preaching, and the way the congregation reacts to his words, seem to suggest that there is a conventional wisdom at work, that this is an either/or proposition. God either likes us or God likes the other guys – as if God’s love were finite. As if God’s expectation of us were to love our friends and hate our enemies.

Tragically, this is precisely how some Christians view it. I have become all too aware recently of pockets of the church that preach these kinds of divisions, defining who is their friend and who is their enemy, who they should love and protect and who they should hate. There are churches that build their house on a foundation of hate.

In his sermon Jesus pointedly reminds the people that their own scriptures show something quite different. Time and again, God has demonstrated great love and mercy for the outsiders, the others. Time and again, God has been deeply disappointed by God’s chosen ones when they have shirked their responsibilities for their own people. All the prophets of Israel had some pointed things to say about that, and none of the kings liked to hear it, not one bit.

It is a human shortcoming, I think, to be always looking for a scapegoat, for someone to blame when things go wrong. At times we allow our anger about things to drown out any voice of compassion. Compassion is weak. Empathy is a sin – some people are saying this now in the hate-based church. But anger, they believe, shows strength.

The people of Nazareth might have been angry. They had cause, certainly. They were treated unjustly at the hands of the Roman Empire. We would not have blamed them for their complaints and even desire for vengeance. But vengeance is not God’s plan for us. And blaming someone else is often only an excuse for our failures. ‘Physician, heal yourself,” the people might have been saying. But they would not have the courage to heal until they could hear Jesus’ message, which is God’s gracious love is for all.

We, too, will struggle with our own need for healing, unless we can embrace such mercy, such compassion that leads to a generosity of spirit, a desire to extend a healing hand to others. 

Whether it is anger, or anxiety, or fear, or all of these things that afflict you, know that healing begins when we reach outside of ourselves. When we honor the inherent dignity of every human being, when we are unafraid to be honest about our shortcomings.

God’s love is not for one and against the other. God’s love is for all the world.

Six Stone Jars: The Economy of Jesus, Week 2: Knowing Our Purpose

Luke 4:14-21

In these days, a news item can get around at lightning speed, if people think it’s worth talking about. But even in the days of Jesus, news was spread at a pretty good pace by word of mouth. Today we sit at our computers or with our thumbs on our phone screens, but back then people got out into the marketplace and they talked. They looked for news of what was happening in the world that might impact their lives, and so word of Jesus spread all throughout Galilee. 

Yet, from Luke’s account, we haven’t much of an idea what they might have been saying about Jesus. We only know that he has been baptized, and that he spent 40 days in the wilderness as a time of preparation. It is possible that this was all anyone knew as they talked about him through the surrounding Galilean countryside. And so they were curious. What is this man about? For what purpose did he spend 40 days and nights in the wilderness? What is he intending to say, to do among us?

This territory was home for Jesus. He was raised in the Galilee, specifically the town of Nazareth. So, eventually he made his way back there, to the place where he had been brought up, as Luke says. 

His pattern, we are told, was to go into the synagogue of every village he entered, and so this is how he came to be in the Nazareth synagogue on the sabbath. He was invited to read and teach from the scriptures; he opened the scroll to the prophet Isaiah and began to read:

 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” 

This was, evidently, a choice that Jesus made in selecting these verses: To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

Now, it may be that the people in attendance heard these words as a soothing balm. “The year of the Lord’s favor” – now that sounds nice. It sounds like hope, it sounds like relief, the fulfillment of promise. It may be that you hear these words like a warm soft blanket wrapped around you. But, in reality, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor meant something quite specific. Isaiah was referring to the Year of Jubilee.

We can read about the Year of Jubilee in the book of Leviticus, where much of the law of Moses is delineated. Leviticus gives much space and attention to the laws of sabbath.

What you and I know about sabbath is what we remember from the Ten Commandments: Remember the sabbath day and keep it holy. We have learned that the seventh day is designated as a day of rest. Which we may or may not pay any attention to, although I believe we all understand in some way that rest is essential for human beings, even if we do resist it.

What we may not know, though, is that the concept of rest, and the pattern of seven, extends well beyond this one commandment. In Leviticus Chapter 25, it is written that the land should be given a rest every seven years, to lie fallow for a year. It is good for the land and consequently good for all of life. Modern farming practices have shown us how land can be exhausted, depleted, less nourishing for life. Some farmers have realized that letting their fields lie fallow is a sensible practice.

During this year of sabbath for the land, the people and their animals are permitted to eat whatever the land produces on its own. And they are, of course, encouraged to store what they can in the previous year to see them through the sabbath year. This is the commandment of God. And the promise is that there will be enough.

The pattern of seven continues as we next hear about the “Sabbath of Sabbaths” – the Year of Jubilee. After seven Sabbath years, so this would occur every 50th year. The Jubilee combines a time of sabbath rest, a time of homecoming, and a time of liberation. The land is to lie fallow, as it does in the Sabbath year, and each Israelite is to return to their ancestral land and clan. Debts are to be forgiven. Israelite slaves are to be set free, and land is to be returned to its original owners or their descendants. 

What this means is that, if a person falls on hard times and is forced to sell his land or himself to pay off debts, the sale is not permanent. Both land and people are set free in the Jubilee .

The Year of Jubilee is about forgiveness, about restitution, about restoration. It is a massive reset button that God has commanded to be enacted, about once every generation, for the sake of all creation.

Some would call this radical, but that does not make it wrong. Some would call it irrelevant because we cannot point to any evidence that Israel actually practiced this law as it is prescribed. However, that doesn’t make it any less relevant than the command to love God and love your neighbor.

In our Bible study this past Thursday, as we began our journey through the Gospel of Luke, we talked about how the texts again and again seem to proclaim a kind of divine intention to level things out. It is celebrated by Mary in her song; it is proclaimed by John the Baptist; and now it comes from Jesus himself, as he reads from the prophet. Then he sits down to teach, and he begins with this: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

I suppose he is telling them just what his purpose is. He is telling us as well.

I realize this is a lot to absorb, and if you are inclined to reject the notion out of hand, I ask you to keep an open mind and heart to what Jesus is saying.

We call Jesus Christ our Savior, the author of our salvation. Salvation has many different manifestations; it means much more than checking into heaven when we die. If we pay attention when we read in the scriptures we will see that much of the time they are speaking of salvation in this world, in this life. As Jesus said in the synagogue that sabbath day, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

These words might have fallen on the ears of his hearers as a healing balm – good news for the poor, release to the captives, freedom for the oppressed – because they lived under the power of the Roman Empire. It was their lived experience.

When there is great disparity between the wealthy and the poor, the powerful and the powerless, there is also great suffering. None of which, we know, is the will of God. Yet, God sees the suffering and chooses to address it, by the law and the prophets. And Jesus. The year of jubilee might never have been practiced as it is written. But we don’t dismiss it, because it sheds light on the quality of God’s mercy, which is great.

The words Jesus spoke in the synagogue that day are sometimes called his inaugural address. It is how he chose to define his mission, proclaim his purpose. And it follows that as the church, the body of Christ, it must be our purpose as well. To work for these values he proclaims. To understand that the gifts we have received are meant to be shared. Everything – from love and forgiveness down to our daily bread – these are all gifts meant to be shared again and again and again.

It may be helpful for us to see ourselves as embodying both rich and poor. Each one of us is poor in some ways and rich in others. And so, in God’s eyes, we each are meant to be both givers and receivers. The economy of Jesus is not a trickle-down theory, but a never-ending circle. 

Where we give, and we receive, and the circle spreads ever outward.