For Those Who Squander

Luke 16:1-13     

Luke’s parable of the dishonest manager is my pastoral penance to pay every so often, when it comes up in the lectionary. And I am, apparently, not the only one who has misgivings about it. In one of my study Bibles it has a footnote saying, “there is no satisfactory explanation for this parable.”

It seems like it was only a few weeks ago that we were on a journey with the heroes of our faith – the great cloud of witnesses, the saints that have gone before us. And now we face this dishonest manager, a character who hardly seems a viable candidate for the faith hall of fame. Although Jesus might not agree with my assessment.

He certainly didn’t make the preacher’s life easy, though, with this parable. Because, on its surface, it just doesn’t seem right. “Be like this dishonest manager,” Jesus says. And I think, really? Is that really what he wants to say?

Here we are introduced to a man who has been charged with a crime. He has been squandering his boss’s property. How? Was he just careless? Perhaps. Was he embezzling? Quite possible. He wouldn’t have been the first, nor the last, guy to see an opportunity for personal gain and take it.

Eventually, he gets found out though, and that’s that. He’s fired, but in a rather gentle way. The boss simply says, “You can’t be my manager anymore.” To which I say, no kidding. Get the books together, buddy, and hand them over.

Oddly, the boss doesn’t send in security staff to take the manager’s keys and escort him out of the building. Amazingly, the boss leaves him alone. He’s either very naïve or very kind. I don’t know which.

Left alone, what does this dishonest manager do next? Right away he recognizes the jam he’s in. Apparently, he knows his own shortcomings well and he realizes that these will be obstacles to him getting honest work. He decides he’s going to have to use his strengths – which include, apparently, conning other people – in a new way. In fact, he thinks, maybe there’s a way to use my strengths to benefit both me and my boss.

He may not have many stellar qualities, but he’s smart. Very shrewd.

He begins a process of reaching out to his boss’s debtors and making deals with them to clear their accounts. And he goes about it with haste. It’s as if he knows his time is limited and he needs to hustle – in more way than one – to get out of this jam. All of a sudden, he’s Monte Hall saying, “Let’s make a deal!”

Presumably, he isn’t going to get anything out of this for himself, in terms of profit. It seems that he is making a last-ditch effort to do the right thing. Maybe. Or else, he’s getting one last dig at his boss, cheating him out of the full amount owed. Also, maybe. Again, there is no satisfactory explanation for this parable.

But when the boss finds out what he’s doing, he commends the manager for his shrewd dealings. And Jesus commends the manager – for his shrewd dealings.

It’s really hard to understand why this man might be worthy of commendation. In fact, it is impossible to understand – unless we go beyond the borders of this story. As is usually the prudent thing to do, we need to look at the context.

Back in chapter 15, Luke writes this: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling” because Jesus keeps company with sinners. So Jesus launches into a set of parables about those who are lost, then found. “Which one of you, having 100 sheep and losing one, does not go off in search of that one? Or what woman, having ten silver coins and losing one, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search diligently until she finds it?”

Then the big one: the parable of the lost son. A man has two sons, and he loses one. This young son squanders the father’s property, just uses it all up recklessly. Then he finds himself in need. He returns to his father, the only one who might help him, and his father does a surprising thing: he gathers him up in his arms and says “Son, welcome home.”

After telling these three stories to all those who were gathered around – the sinners and tax collectors, Pharisees and scribes – Jesus turns back to his disciples and begins this story about the dishonest manager. But Jesus is always talking to whoever might be listening.

And he is quite aware that these sinners and tax collectors, Pharisees and scribes, are still listening. And this is what they hear:

For people who have been squanderers of the gifts they were given, there is forgiveness. For those who have made mistakes, there are second chances. For those who have received plenty from the hand of God, use it. Just use it.

Use it, he says. Because money buried in the ground only loses its value – this is a lesson learned from another of his parables. Use it, because there is a lot of need in the world, and when you are spending money you are spreading its value around. Spend money at the dollar store and you are helping the cashier feed her kids; spend money at the diner and you are helping the waitress pay the light bill. Money is just useful when it’s moving around.

Jesus says, “Do some good.” He doesn’t bother to say here that you should repent, to sin no more, I don’t know why. Maybe it just isn’t worth saying here. Maybe he recognizes that he’s talking to people who haven’t been convicted of their sins, so they wouldn’t hear that message anyway. But they might hear this one: you’re good at something. And there’s a really good way you can use it.

It isn’t really that shocking. Oskar Schindler was praised for using his business skills to essentially buy Jews, thereby saving them from the death camps. Mother Teresa accepted donations from everyone, no matter how dirty the source, because she knew she could turn any amount of dirty money into something good. Universities, hospitals, and arts organizations that have Sackler wings or Sackler endowments now face public demands to take the name down, return the dirty money. But they say, wait a minute – what we know now about the Sacklers is deeply disturbing. But look at all the good that dirty money has done.

For those who squander – sinners and tax collectors, and perhaps, yes, Pharisees – there is the hope that they will take a good look at themselves and what they are doing. Is there a way to turn the skills they have been using for selfish gain to a more righteous purpose? Of course there is. Schindler eventually turned his skills to the sole purpose of saving Jews. Opioid manufacturers, like the Sacklers, could take some, or all, of their ill-gotten gains and squander them on addiction treatment.

And if they need any help figuring out just how much of their gains were ill-gotten, I’ll be glad to sit down with them.

For those who squander – and that is probably all of us, at one time or another, in big or little ways – it becomes important to ask ourselves some questions. Are we squandering for the sake of personal enrichment only? Are we squandering in a manner that hurts other people, directly or indirectly? Is it possible to squander in the pursuit of something really good? And is that kind of squandering a good thing? Perhaps.

Like the father who squandered his love on the prodigal son – no one could tell him it wasn’t a worthy pursuit.

No one can serve two masters, Jesus tells the people. There is only one who is worthy of being served. Let all of our squandering be done in service to the one who created the world and everything in it, who squanders beauty and love in breathtaking ways, the one who is our very life and being.

Photo: Monte Hall, making deals. By ABC TelevisionUploaded by We hope at en.wikipedia - eBay item, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16273312

Re-formed

Jeremiah 18:1-11       

Philemon 1-21  

This year marks 400 years since the first African slaves were brought to the English colonies in America. In August of 1619, in what is now Hampton, Virginia, the first captured Africans were brought ashore to be sold as slaves. The state of Virginia has created events and exhibits to commemorate this date, for the purpose of education and to promote reconciliation and healing.

In a recent Bible study we talked about the ways in which our awareness of slavery and its effects has changed over the years. When we were taught lessons about the history of our nation, slaves were always in the background. It’s almost as though they were not really people, but backdrop.

Indeed, that is how slavery happens. When we regard some peoples as less than human, we can justify doing what we want with them.

Slavery has a long history in the world. It goes back to biblical times. This letter from Paul to Philemon is a letter about slavery.

The letter is unusual for Paul, because it is short. And because it is addressed to a person – Philemon – rather than a church.  And because it is written for only one purpose.  Paul wants Philemon to grant freedom to his slave Onesimus. 

It was kind of an unusual request because, in the ancient world, slavery was normal.  It was not restricted to the people of one particular race or tribe.  Slavery was what the powerful people did to people who were powerless. 

We know that the people of Israel were enslaved by the Egyptians for hundreds of years before they were led out of slavery by Moses.  And we know that the people of Israel, once they were established in their own land, also practiced slavery.  We know this because the law of Israel addressed it – not the question of “if” it was acceptable, but the questions of “how” it was acceptable. 

We know that in the Roman Empire slavery was normal.  Some of the stories in the book of Acts tell about slaves, such as the woman who had a spirit of divination and was used by her owners quite profitably.  Some of the epistles have instructions pertaining to how slaves should behave, and from this we see that at least some Christian households owned slaves.  All of this seems far away and strange to us.  And that is why it seems odd to us that Paul treads so delicately around the question.

But treading lightly and artfully was probably the only way for Paul to approach this, if he wanted to be heard.

He chooses his words carefully.  He is complimentary; he is encouraging, humble, and threatening, all at the same time.  Paul is using whatever he has at his disposal to bring about the result he wants.  This is clearly a reform that is important to him. 

Onesimus has come to be with Paul, who is in prison. Most likely, he ran away from his master and now finds himself in a particularly difficult position.  But he has found an advocate in Paul, who regards Onesimus now as a son.  “Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me,” he writes to Philemon.  Useless, perhaps, because he has run away from his master; useful now because as he appeals for forgiveness and liberation, he offers both Paul and Philemon a chance to practice extravagant love.

Paul wrote the words, “for freedom Christ has set us free,” and, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”  These are from the latter to the Galatians, but Paul wrote similar words to the very church in which Philemon was a member, the Colossian church.

It is not possible to be brothers and sisters to those we refuse to see as fully human. Paul felt it was time to bring out this truth. Inevitably, eventually, it would lead to the understanding that slavery is not compatible with Christian faith, although it would take many hundreds of years, nearly two thousand years, for the church to fully embrace it. And, truthfully, we still bear the scars of it -- as a nation and as a church.

Being reformed takes time.  But the scriptures we hear today tell us it is God’s work – to re-form us, reshape us.

We see it so well in this story from Jeremiah.  “Go down to the potter’s house and I will let you hear my word,” the Lord says to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah watches the potter working a lump of clay into a vessel, something that will be useful – a cup, a pot, a bowl. But the clay becomes ruined in the potter’s hands.  It became misshapen or torn, somehow not salvageable, the potter knows.  And so he picks up the clay and begins the process again.  A shapeless lump will be formed into a useful vessel.

“Can I not do with you just what this potter has done with the clay?”  says the Lord to Jeremiah. 

And so God continues, through the work of the Holy Spirit, to reform and reshape us, when we have become less than useful to God’s purposes for reconciliation and love.

Again and again we need to be reformed. Until we can look at every man, woman, and child as a fully human being, just like us; beloved of God just like us.

Being reformed is hard work, but God is patient.

How will God reform us?  Where are the blind spots, the flaws which make us less than useful?  Each one of us may answer that for him or herself; each of us may offer our personal prayer to God, to reshape us closer to God’s image, closer to God’s original intent for humankind.  But let us pray also for the church, that God will reform us into the church that Christ desires: a community called together in Christ; where we may grow together in faith and grace; and where all of God’s children are welcomed with love.

Photo Credit: By Gary Bridgman - Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1892183

Pillars of Faith, Part 4: Faith Waits

Luke 14:1-11     

It’s curious that, after just having put his opponents to shame, the leader of the religious leaders, the Arch-Pharisee, invites him over for dinner. Why might he have done that?

He might have been invited because the Pharisees thought this had gotten out of hand and they wanted to try to reconcile. Good intentions. So, maybe that was it.

He might have been invited because the Pharisees’ professional reputation was on the line. Their credibility was at risk because the crowds of witnesses were cheering Jesus on while he was humiliating the leaders.

He might have been invited because they decided to take the high road. They would show that they could “turn the other cheek” with the best of them.

Or, he might have been invited because they were keeping a close eye on him. Remember that they have been trying to catch him in a serious offense so they can stop him.

So, what do you think? Was it pure coincidence then, that as they are watching him closely, he encounters a man with dropsy? Another curiosity.

It might have been a simply coincidence and nothing more.

Or it might be that the man with dropsy was there because word was out that Jesus was healing and all kinds of people were coming around seeking his attention. although the text doesn't mention that.

Or it might be a set-up. Maybe that man was planted there by the Pharisees, to step right in front of Jesus at that moment when he is surrounded by Pharisees. Would he be so bold as to heal this man in such a setting?

I hope I don't sound like a conspiracy theorist.

But think about it: These men of authority and power have been publicly shamed. They would not shrug this off easily; they live in a culture that revolves around honor and shame.

Honor and shame, in this world, are parts of a zero-sum game, no different really from baseball. If you are going to win then somebody else has got to lose – there are only so many games in a season. In the same way, there is only a certain amount of honor to go around, so if you are going to gain honor it will have to be at someone else’s expense. Jesus is gaining honor, in the eyes of the people, and it is coming at the expense of the Pharisees.

Zero-sum, win-lose. When you lose honor you gain shame. And shame was as bad then as it is today, or worse. When, in the last chapter, Jesus had put his opponents to shame, this whole situation became more serious – now everything is at stake for these men.

They would very much like to put Jesus to shame. But, so far, they are unable to do that.

He has survived another confrontation, and maybe plucked a little more honor away from these guys. And as they are summoned to the dinner table, Jesus watches what they do.

In the book of proverbs, chapter 25, you find the topic of shame. Among other bits of advice, there is this: “Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told, ‘Come up here,’ than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.”

But these guests of the Arch-Pharisee don’t seem to recall this lesson. And I’m not surprised, because people who are accustomed to power rarely do recall this lesson.

In the 1950’s, the laws of segregation in Montgomery, Alabama required African Americans to sit in the back of the bus – in what they called the “colored” section. Seats in the front were reserved for white people. And even though African Americans made up 75% of the riders, they were pushed to the back. Adding insult to injury, if the white section happened to fill up, African American riders sitting near the front of the “colored” section were made to give up their seats and move back to allow all white passengers to sit. They could get pushed back farther and farther until they were pushed right out the back door.

The white leadership of Montgomery were eager to pile shame upon their African American brothers and sisters. This was really the only way they could maintain their superiority. They just had to have the seats in the front.

One day, though, it just stopped working for them.

What’s always hard to remember is that you can’t just take honor. You can’t grab it, steal it, from someone else. Honor must be given.

As much as the authorities tried again and again to take honor for themselves, taking it from Jesus and replacing it with shame, they were surprised by the outcome. As much as they tried to shame him – by putting him in positions they assumed would be awkward or even humiliating for him – they failed. As much as they contrived situations in which he would be forced to take the wrong step, say the wrong thing, condemn himself by his own words or actions, they failed. Eventually they just resorted to brute force, co-opting the power of the Empire. He was arrested, tortured, and crucified on the cross he was made to carry across his bloodied back. They taunted him, nailed him to the cross, and watched him die.

Bringing even more honor upon him as they did, and shame upon themselves.

There is no honor in shoving others out of your way as you reach for the front row. There is no honor in stepping on them as you climb up the ladder of prominence.

Jesus watches these men of authority and power at that dinner party to see how they will handle themselves. He watches as they elbow others aside in the rush to get the best seats at the table. He watches the expressions on their faces, knowing they are desperately trying to avoid the shame of being left with the last seat. He watches from the side, a spectator to all this pushing and striving, and he gently reminds them of the words from the proverb. Wouldn’t it be a shame to you if you won the contest for the best seat and then your host had to ask you to move, because there was someone better he wanted to sit there. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

Better to wait, my friends. Faith waits.

As we finish this series on the pillars of faith today, let us look at each one. We consider first that as we embark on a faith journey, it requires certain actions. We remember our ancestors in faith who stepped out boldly into uncharted territory when they were called by God to do so. And that as we step out in faith, through new territory, we have the examples of these courageous men and women to guide us.

We consider how faith enables us to see in a new way. Faith shows us how to look through the eyes of the heart and approach things in new ways, with open hearts, seeing them as God sees them. When we see through the eyes of the heart, old molds are broken and new truths are confronted.

When you start breaking molds and losing chains, there is going to be opposition. But faith allows us to stand firm in the face of that opposition. Because, as Martin Luther said when he was brought before the authorities, “Here I stand, I can do no other, so help me God.”

This is what faith is: it gives us courage to step out in a new direction. It enables us to see with new eyes the things that God wants to show us. It gives us the strength to stand firm in the face of opposition, and finally, it waits for the inevitable results.

When we act in faith, for God’s purposes, God will see it through.

The history of faith shows the evidence. In our ancestors we have seen the faith that has moved them closer, step by step, to the promises of God. We have seen it – in Abraham and Moses and the prophets of Israel. We have seen it in Jesus, the one who never wavered from his path, the one who could not be shamed. We have seen it in the apostles who followed in his way.

We have seen the power of faith in many more throughout the ages, who have boldly stepped forward in the path God has laid for them, looking back and drawing strength from the ones who have gone before. We too are called to step forward, blazing new trails in the name of Christ and for the sake of the promises of God.

To follow in faith, even when it challenges our status, our relationships, and the values of our culture. To stand where Jesus stands, with the weak and the vulnerable and downtrodden. To stand with love, against hate. To take a stand, and wait in faith, for the hope to become reality.

This is our calling. We can do no other.

Pillars of Faith, Part 3: Faith Facing Opposition

Luke 13:10-17   

Alice Hoffman wrote a story called Seventh Heaven. It’s about a suburban community in Long Island, near Levittown. It’s the kind of community that popped up all over America after World War II, like Levittown. Tract homes, affordable for first-time homeowners. Streets that never go straight, but change directions, winding around in loops to make sure you won’t drive too fast, but also ensuring you will get lost. Sidewalks everywhere for strollers and tricycles, to keep the kids safe. All the houses look alike, so newcomers driving into the neighborhood get confused about where they are. Neighbors can walk into each other’s homes and know just where everything is, because it is exactly the same as their own house.

The story takes place at the end of 1959 and the beginning of 1960, a time when the world is on the verge of change. And the people in this community are a little confused.

They are confused because they have always followed the rules. They have done what they are supposed to do. They got married, had two or three kids. The men work hard at their jobs and the women work hard at home. The children watch TV, but not too much TV. The men drink an occasional beer together, but not too much beer. The women chat together during the day – about the kids, about the PTA, about recipes. And they don’t bother each other once their husbands get home from work. Everyone does their part.

But problems start to come to the neighborhood, and they can’t figure out why, because they have always followed the rules. You’re supposed to be rewarded for following the rules, not punished. What could they have done wrong?

There is a woman named Donna. She has a husband and three kids. She does everything she is supposed to do, just as she has for the eight years of her marriage. Her family always has clean and mended clothes, nutritious and tasty meals. Everything has a place in her house, and she makes sure everything is in its place. She goes about her work quietly, so quietly that no one really sees her anymore. Her kids, her husband, even her friends. They don’t see her, which is interesting. Because for a number of years now Donna has been eating for comfort. Emotional eating is what it’s called now. And she has grown quite large. But she keeps her head down and she tends to her work.

One day the washing machine breaks down and she calls a repairman. Something extraordinary happens. This stranger, the repairman, he sees her. He has no untoward intentions, but he looks at Donna and says, “I can tell you work hard. You’re somebody who really cares.” And Donna cannot remain the same after this, because she knows she has been seen. And because now, for the first time, she realizes that no one else sees her.

And so slowly, quietly, Donna begins to break the rules. She can no longer live within the confines of these rules because she sees now that it is slowly killing her spirit.

It was Donna I thought of when I read the story about the crippled woman in the synagogue. Because I wonder what that woman had been thinking for 18 long years. Had she always assumed, without question, that being bent over, unable to stand up straight, was just her place in the world? had she learned through experience that her bent posture was the role she was born to play? Did everyone in her community expect this of her?

For 18 years she had been bent low by this spirit. 18 years, during which 6 out of 7 days are not the sabbath. But no one offered has her release on any of those days. No one really saw this woman. For 18 years she has been invisible.

She has, perhaps, filled some role, just like Donna filled the role she had been given, keeping groceries in the Frigidaire, meals on the table, clean laundry in the dresser drawers. Perhaps there were certain expectations of this woman in the synagogue, and as long as she met them, she remained virtually invisible.

No one saw her. until Jesus saw her.

When he called her over to him, I wonder how she felt. She might have felt afraid; after all, the religious authorities were all around, watching everything. It was already abundantly clear that they disapproved of Jesus. What would it mean to them if she walked over to him? She might have felt fear when he called her over to his side.

She might be risking the community’s scorn, if she walks across the room, forcing everyone to see her ailment.

But sometimes breaking the rules is about making the world look at something they don’t want to look at. And sometimes faith means being willing to break the rules.

Jesus breaks the rules now, as he has done before, and calls her over, bringing attention to this woman’s pain. He places his hands on her and says, “Woman, you are set free.” Or in the familiar words of the King James, woman thou art loosed. And at that moment she stands up straight, giving thanks and praise to God.

And we know that, once again, Jesus has done something dangerous.

The act of freeing this woman is a dangerous act, and we need to understand that it doesn’t really matter what you call this affliction she suffered. It doesn’t matter if it is a physical disease of the bones or if it is a kind of spiritual or psychological affliction. It doesn’t matter, because we need to understand that when the scriptures speak of Jesus’ healing, it is speaking of every kind of healing. We need to know that in Jesus, by the power of God, we may be made well. Period.

But it’s a dangerous thing. Jesus frees this woman of her affliction and in the same instant he lets loose the forces of opposition. The leader of the synagogue shouts to the crowds that it is not the day for healing. It is the sabbath day. He cries out to them, “If you came here for healing, then leave now. Come back another day, for today is not the day for healing.”

But if this day, the sabbath day, is not the day for healing then no day is the day for healing. That does appear to be the unspoken message. The authorities of this place do not approve of healing, of freeing people from the afflictions that bind them.

We have spoken in the past few weeks about what faith is like – how faith acts on its convictions, how faith sees things that cannot otherwise be seen. And once faith has seen what has not been seen by others, faith stands firm in the face of opposition.

When faith sees people suffering, faith must stand with the suffering, no matter what it means. As people of faith, let us affirm that, as the church, we will stand where the Lord stands. The church must stand where God stands, and that is with the afflicted, the downtrodden, the vulnerable stranger in our midst. The church must stand with the suffering, with the weak, the lonely, the hurting.

Which is all of us.

When Jesus called that woman to him, he showed us where the church is meant to stand. Right there in that spot where he was standing. And the woman, when she walked over and stood before him, showed us the courage each of us is called to have. To stand with Jesus, to offer up our wounds to be healed, our chains to be loosed, our spirits to be freed.

Photo: Levittown, NY

Pillars of Faith, Part 2: Faith Sees

Hebrews 11:29-12:2  

Luke 12:49-56   

In the well-known story by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince falls from his far away planet in the sky down to earth. He wanders the earth in search of meaning, and in his wanderings, he encounters a fox. There’s something charismatic about this fox that draws the prince in. He wants to play with him. But the fox tells the prince to be careful, to not get too close. “I’m not tame,” he says.

We could say the same thing about Jesus in this passage from Luke. Don’t play with him. He’s not tame. He wants to bring a fire to the earth. He will divide households, three against two, and two against three; father against son, and son against father. He speaks with anger and impatience as though he wants to get out of this place and go back to the planet from which he came. This little prince, right now at this moment, is so done with the planet earth and all its inhabitants.

It's very disturbing for readers. But, in fairness, there has been a lot going on. Go back a couple of chapters and see the increasing intensity, the mounting sense of urgency surrounding Jesus. The Pharisees are ramping up their surveillance, anxiously waiting for him to slip up. The crowds who have been following him are growing in numbers, to the point now where they are trampling one another to get nearer to him. It is all too close, it is all too menacing, and now Jesus speaks with an intensity we haven’t seen before.

There is no longer time for subtlety. And the things he says are puzzling, hurtful to us; hard for us to hear. Dividing households against one another? How could that be true? It isn’t nice. 

This is not “nice” Jesus now. And if you asked me why, I could tell you that it’s because he was under so much pressure at the time. And that he otherwise wouldn’t have said such unkind things. And that we should forgive him.

Indeed, we should forgive. But should we dismiss these words because they were said under pressure? because they sound angry?

Sometimes, when the pressure is on, the truth is released.

And sometimes the truth is hard to hear. or see.

So we rest today on the pillar of seeing. Faith sees in a very special way, and it is essential that we learn to see in faith if we are to make any progress on our journey.

Returning to the 11^th chapter of Hebrews, we look again at the people of faith, and the actions that made them so memorable. Somehow, each one of them had the vision to move forward toward the “something better” that God had promised; the better country that God had shown them.

How does faith see? Not by ordinary means.

Something we should know about these heroes in the Hebrews roll call of faith is that they were all a little odd. They saw things others didn't see, heard things others didn't hear. By the grace of God, they were all open to seeing and hearing and sensing in new and different ways.

The same is true still today. We might think we got it all figured out. But the life of faith still demands that we remain open to seeing and hearing and sensing in new and different ways. In other words, we, too, need to be a little odd.

Don’t be disturbed by this. the oddness. It's just the willingness to dip a toe in the mystery that is always in this world but we often don't see. The  willingness to engage in the act of wonder a little more often, something we tend to leave behind with childhood. To engage with a passage of scripture, saying, “I wonder…” Like, I wonder why Jesus told the people that he came to bring not peace, but division. 

To just wonder. Resist the rush to judgment. Rest in that unknowing.

To wonder about the world and all who live in it. This is important on the journey of faith.  

It is what we do with people we love. We wonder about them – their habits, their likes and dislikes, their special gifts and their particular weaknesses. We are always open to learning something new about the people we love. Always – because they are worth it.

Think about the individuals who are closest to you. You get to know them. You see them, warts and all. It’s not always beautiful. But you say, “She may be a weirdo but she’s my weirdo.” We can do that with people we love because we see them with the heart.

With those we love it begins with wonder. And that leads to loving, caring, and learning to see them with the eyes of the heart. 

You wonder, you resist judging, you want to know more. and the next thing you know, the one you wondered about has become special to you. all through the eyes of the heart.

That fox, the one who was not tame, said something like this to the Little Prince. “One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.” The prince memorized his words, and carried this bit of wisdom with him. Gradually, he began to notice the truth of it. There are hidden treasures everywhere, seen through the eyes of the heart.

And here is the gift hidden in the fox’s secret: once you have had that special relationship with some person, you have the ability to see every person through those eyes. It is possible to love all of humanity if you have had the gift of loving one particular person. And seeing them as God sees them – seeing with the heart – this is what it is to see in faith.

It takes a little bit of imagination. And love.

In our Presbyterian ordination vows for ministers, elders, and deacons, we are asked to lead the church with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love. Sometimes we behave as though we have only promised to lead with energy, or maybe just energy and intelligence. But there are important things you cannot accomplish just by applying more energy to it, or more intellect to it. Imagination opens our minds to see new and different things. Love is what then lets it in.

And so, let us wonder about this passage from Luke. And these impatient and angry words of Jesus, calling on us to interpret the signs. The signs of the time are all around us, Friends. We see division – not peace; division in our civic life that causes us to blame and fear and even hate other people with an irrational exuberance. We must see this. Jesus will not let us pretend it isn’t there.

How shall we respond to the signs? Through the eyes of the heart. Wondering. Resisting the urge to judge.  Sometimes resting in the unknowing. This is how faith sees, and leads us to that better land.

Photo: Illustration from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery 

Pillars of Faith, Part 1: Faith Acts

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

I don’t usually go in to the church on Fridays, but last Friday I was there to meet a couple named Billy and Liz McCullough. Billy and Liz are from Northern Ireland and they are visiting the area indulging Billy’s special interest: Francis Makemie.

That’s a name that is very familiar in our region of the world. Francis Makemie is known as the founder of several churches on the Delmarva Peninsula, including ours. We all claim our founding date in 1683, because that is the year Francis Makemie arrived on our shores. He was invited to come here by Colonel William Stevens, who was an Episcopalian living in Somerset County.

Makemie was apparently a good organizer, because he traveled among the Scots-Irish communities, who were all Presbyterian, and helped them organize into congregations. Later, he helped organize the first presbytery in America in Philadelphia.

He was also, I’m guessing, quite the diplomat. The Scots-Irish, I’ve been told, were rather belligerent by nature. It was an ethnic group born in conflict, and never seeming to escape it. As a result, they were fairly suspicious of others, including other Scots-Irish communities. I am sure they were not easy to organize. But Makemie managed to do it.

So as I sat down to think about this well-known passage on the meaning of faith from the letter to the Hebrews, Francis Makemie was on my mind. He was clearly a man well-grounded in faith. And being well-grounded, he was constantly on the move.

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not see. These words from Hebrews 11 are just about as familiar as any words of scripture. They tell us, very succinctly, two things: Faith is assurance and conviction. Faith assures us we are on solid ground and gives us the conviction needed to take action. Faith is both comfort and passion, solace and purpose.

Because of this, faith is not passive. Faith acts.

And the letter to the Hebrews takes us backward to show us this. We go on a stroll through our history to remember those individuals who were so instrumental in building the structures of our faith. Abraham and Sarah set out from their home, the land of their ancestors, because they were called by the voice of God to do so. They traveled toward a place they did not know – not only was this all uncharted territory for them, they literally did not know what the game plan was. They simply journeyed on by stages, trusting in God to show them the way forward, every step of the way.

Abraham and Sarah followed the call of God through barren wildernesses and lands in which they were the aliens, the strangers. Places where their lives were at risk.

Abraham and Sarah followed a promise. A hope. They did not see God, nor did they see the land God promised them. They did not see the promised generations that would be as many as the stars in the sky, as many as the grains of sand on the shore. But they, and all those who followed them – Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Samuel, David, and many others – acted by faith born out of hope.

This chapter of the letter is a recitation of the faith hall of fame. I can picture all these men and women walking into a packed stadium like olympians, doing a slow victory lap around the track while we cheer and express our appreciation for the part they played. We are thankful for them all – not just the giants of scripture, but all the church fathers and mothers, all the way through our history, including Francis Makemie, who organized Wicomico Presbyterian Church, which has stood as a place of worship for well over 300 years now.

There is something really cool about having such a long history. It means we have a special story. It is an important part of who we are. Yet, there is a danger of letting this special story overshadow everything else. There is a real risk that we will let this special story become the end of our story – instead of the pattern for our story.

The narrative in Hebrews shows us how each of these amazing individuals – Abraham, Sarah, and all the others – lived in faith, acted courageously for the sake of the promise of God. And it shows us how they died in faith, never having received the promises, but only seeing them from a distance. Each one of these heroes of the faith played a small part in the story.

We are a part of this story of faith – the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. And if we look to these men and women we read about in the scriptures, what do we see? If we look to these men and women we see in the history books, what do we learn?

How do the faithful actions of Abraham and Sarah and Francis Makemie create a pattern for us to follow? In venturing out for new places, not knowing what they would encounter nor what would be expected of them, how do they guide us?

Francis Makemie had a religious conversion as a young man. While at Glasgow University as a student, he experienced the call to become a minister. He was ordained in West Ulster, Ireland in 1681 and almost immediately was called as a missionary to America. Like Abraham, he was sent out to a place he did not know.

Unlike Abraham, I suppose, he did know something about his mission, and he went at it with zeal. He learned the territory, he adapted to the local customs,  and he left his mark here. The Makemie name lives on here on the Eastern Shore.

After his work here, he traveled up and down the Atlantic coast from New York to North Carolina. In New York he was arrested for preaching without a license. Presbyterians were not especially welcome there. Makemie spent two months in jail and endured a trial – which he won, but at great expense. His case would later become known as a landmark case in the fight for religious freedom in America, something written into our constitution that most Americans are fiercely proud of.

Now, more than 300 years later, the Makemie Churches remain. They have moved from one building to another to another, but are still serving the communities in which they were established. This vast continent has been covered from shore to shore with transplants like Makemie, who have planted churches of all kinds.

Now in this place, more than 300 years later, religious freedom is something we have come to take for granted. It’s hard for us to imagine a time when Baptists and Congregationalists and Episcopalians and Catholics fought with each other. We don’t need to fight anymore. And we don’t need to set out for new unknown places anymore.

Does this mean the journey of faith is over? As the Apostle Paul would say, by no means!

We may not have to journey across physical distances now, but the church is traveling through uncharted territory, nonetheless. We are journeying through wilderness every day, where the things we always did before somehow make less sense now. Maybe we’re sad about that. Maybe we miss those old days when things made more sense, when the world made more sense to us.

But we owe it to the ancestors of our faith to keep moving forward. We need to follow the pattern they created for us: move forward through the wilderness, courageously, decisively, boldly. We must be willing to make mistakes just as Abraham did and Makemie did. We must be willing to do this all for the sake of the gospel.

The letter to the Hebrews says that these ancestors of the faith were foreigners on earth, seeking a better land, a heavenly land. We too are seeking this better land –

A land where all of God’s people will be at home, where children will not be separated from their parents.

A land where weapons are no longer useful but, as Isaiah says, swords are beaten into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks.

A land where there is bread enough for all, and all receive their daily bread.

This is the land the scriptures tell us about. This is the promise of God, that all our heroes of the faith have journeyed toward. None of them got there; they only saw it from a distance. We, too, may only see it from a distance. But we journey on

Through uncharted territory.

The church always has something to move toward, something to fight for in this world.

Photo: Francis Makemie Statue at Presbyterian Historical Society. By Smallbones - Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=32095000

What the Lord Requires, Part 4: To Look Beyond Ourselves

Luke 12:13-21    

I have to wonder what Kenneth Copeland does with this particular passage of scripture. 

If you don’t know who Kenneth Copeland is, he is a televangelist. He was interviewed recently by a journalist who wanted him to explain why he needs a Gulfstream Jet. This jet he was able to purchase recently thanks to the generous donations of his followers. He needed it, apparently, because two airplanes was not sufficient. It might seem like enough to you and me, but God wanted him to have this third one, this Gulfstream, he told his congregation and he stressed to all his followers on television and online. God wanted him to have it and God wanted them to give him money so he could have it. 

This reporter asked him to explain why this was so important. 

He told her he needs it because he simply couldn’t do the work he does if he had to fly commercial with all the demonic activity happening on board those planes.

This seemed to be consistent with comments he has made earlier, in conversations with his fellow televangelist prosperity gospel preachers, who also find themselves sometimes having to defend the fact that they have private jets. He said that you just can’t manage today, in this dope-filled world, to get in a long tube with a bunch of demons. It’s deadly, in his words.

Yes, flying commercial is just too much for Kenneth’s sensitive soul. Bless his heart.

It seems like these televangelists have jet-envy. There is a little competition going on as to who owns the most jets. If you’re going to keep up, you need more planes. And then, of course, you’re going to need bigger hangars.

In our Tuesday Bible study last week, we talked about greed. You know what greed is? It is the power that makes you believe that you don’t have quite enough. It makes you feel that you need just a little bit more, no matter how much you already have. It constantly pokes at the fear inside you. And so, in fear of not having enough you go striving, at all cost to your neighbors and even your own soul, for more. Hoping to have enough.

It is like an addiction. Because with greed, the shutoff valve is broken. There is never enough.

Kenneth Copeland and his comrades are easy targets, because of the absurd lengths they go to, the bizarre rationalizations they make, to acquire wealth. 

But in this scripture, Jesus addresses his comments to a man who just wants his brother to share his father’s inheritance with him. It might have been very little. Maybe their father had a small farm that was being divided between the sons. He was just a man in the crowd who came seeking Jesus’ help. 

He could have been any one of us.

And Jesus tells him to beware of greed. Beware of how greed will distort your values if you’re not careful. Then comes the story:

There was a rich man, blessed with abundance. His farm was so fertile, his harvests so abundant. He had more than he needed. But that’s not the way he saw it. What he saw was that he had inadequate storage space.

What to do?

Luckily, he came up with a brilliant idea. He would tear down the old barns, which were too small, and build some new ones, bigger ones, that would hold all his abundance. Then he would rest easy, knowing he had enough.

But that’s not how greed works. The next year, he might find himself building even bigger barns because he needed yet more space to store his crops. Then he would probably need a security system to guard his barns against thieves. Motion-sensitive floodlights, an alarm system, and the service of security guards to patrol the perimeter. 

It would end up taking a lot of his time and resources to protect his stuff, leaving him little time to relax, eat, drink, and be merry.

In that moment of self-satisfaction, when he comes up with this wonderful idea, God interrupts his thoughts to tell him, “You’re a fool. This very night your life is being demanded of you.”

“This very night your life is being demanded of you.” I take that to mean just this:

God is holding you to account now this very night. Today– not at some hypothetical point in the future. God has blessed you richly. What are you doing with what you have today to bless God?

Does it bless God for this man to store up more and more grain for some fantasy future, while there are people around him who don’t have bread to eat? 

Does it bless God for the televangelists like Copeland to have a private fuel-guzzling jet so that they don’t have to rub shoulders with the common folk who fly commercial? To take money from the hands of the poor, whom they have convinced that in giving to them they will find blessing?

Does it bless God for the pharmaceutical manufacturers to push their oxycodone and hydrocodone pills to break all previous sales records, even though they know they are delivering customers into the hell of addiction?

Perhaps none of us need worry about being convicted of any of these particular sins, so just consider this:

Does it bless God when we lose all sense of what is enough in our continuing quest for more? When we let our decisions be driven by the fear of not having enough for ourselves? and then the fear of losing what we have acquired? and then the fear that those people with whom you are not sharing your abundance, they might become your predators and steal your property from you?

I think Copeland is right about one thing. There are, indeed, powers of darkness at work in this world. They are the powers that cause us to lose sight of what is enough. They are the powers that strangle any sense of gratitude with the fear that somehow we are lacking something – and that this lack is, in fact, an injustice. 

In this world where God’s gifts are so plentiful, there will always be something we lack – if that’s the way we insist on seeing it. But Jesus’ teachings ask us to keep a clear eye on what is truly important. To keep clear the distinction between what we possess and what we treasure – these are not the same things. 

We may value our possessions because they enable us to enjoy our lives, enjoy freedom, enjoy time with people we love. But when the importance of the possession itself becomes too great, exerting too much power over us, then we are at risk of losing those things we treasure – freedom, love, even life.

Greed has the effect of turning us inward and it becomes us against the world. But staying focused on the things we really treasure can enable us to see it all as God’s gift freely given.

To be grateful. To measure your wealth by what you are able to share, instead of by the size of your barns.

Photo: Erich von Stroheim, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons