Keeping the Season

"The Visitation," by Claudia Williams (photo by Clive, on Flickr)

Luke 1:39-55
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

"1 John 4:18" by philipcdavis, on Flickr

Acts 8:26–40
Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, "Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza." (This is a wilderness road.) So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. Then the Spirit said to Philip, "Go over to this chariot and join it." So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, "Do you understand what you are reading?" He replied, "How can I, unless someone guides me?" And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:

"Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter,
and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth.
In his humiliation justice was denied him.
Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth."

The eunuch asked Philip, "About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?" Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. As they were going along the road, they came to some water; and the eunuch said, "Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?" He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. But Philip found himself at Azotus, and as he was passing through the region, he proclaimed the good news to all the towns until he came to Caesarea.

1 John 4:7–21
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God's love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.

By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Savior of the world. God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us.

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us. Those who say, "I love God," and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

John 15:1-8
[Jesus says,] "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples."

---
There are plenty of Sundays that I have stood up here in the pulpit and started out a sermon by saying “Wow, today’s readings were really tough,” or “As preachers, we cringe when we have to find some good news in difficult texts like these.” So I feel like I need to balance things out a bit, and not just complain about the hard Sundays, but also share joy over Sundays like today. Here we have three rich texts, all filled with good news. Yes, sometimes as a preacher you luck out. There are six or eight or a hundred different sermons that I could preach.

As I prepared for today, I was struck by one of the common themes in these readings, the theme of being bound together as community in Christ.

In our first reading, we encounter an Ethiopian official serving the queen’s court, a eunuch who, not to be crass, has quite literally been cut off from the temple community, and who is reading a passage from Isaiah about this suffering servant who we know to be Christ. Desperately seeking to be a part of God’s community, and emboldened by the good news of the sufferings and resurrection of Christ, he asks Philip, "Here is water. What is to prevent me from being baptized?

In other words, “What is preventing me from becoming a part of God's community, despite my race, despite my nationality, despite my physical impairment, despite my job?" Because for all of the reasons that he was cut off from society, he knew in his heart that there was nothing - nothing - that could actually cut him off from the life-giving promises of God's grace and the community of Christ, the suffering servant.

I've been thinking a lot about community these days - about the way that we are called to love our enemies and seek the good of our neighbors and to live in harmony with one another and to live peaceably with all. I've been thinking about that question of barriers, about who are those on the outskirts, those who don't have the privilege of health or happiness or justice.

I’ve been thinking a lot about struggling communities in Nepal who are still unearthing bodies, dead and alive, from last week’s earthquake, who are piling up bodies along the sea to be cremated, who are waiting for relief to come at the mercy of many and various international aid organizations, and all of the complicated lessons that disasters like this might be teaching us about being citizens of a global community.

I've been thinking a lot about the city of Baltimore these days, about Freddie Gray and his sister and his family who grieve his death, about how his life was taken from him at the hands of six police officers sworn to serve and protect life, about race and class, peaceful protests and angry riots, and all the layers upon layers of complicated lessons this tragedy might have us about community, about who is in and who is out and who gets to decide that.

As we watch these sagas unfold on our televisions and news feeds, we are presented with a huge list of unanswerable questions.

How can we efficiently and sustainably help unearth the rubble and rebuild infrastructure across the globe after natural disasters? And what do we do with the knowledge that poorer communities suffer more deeply than affluent communities when environmental disasters hit?

How do we respond to the reality that racism is still alive and well in our country? How do race and class intersect?

What do we do with violence done falsely in the name of justice? What do we do with violence done in the name of protest? How do we speak about right and wrong ways to stand up to power without condoning or victim blaming the protestors?

Who in our society has the power, explicitly or implicitly? Who suffers under this power? How do we use the power we are given for good? How do we claim power when we are oppressed?How do we know when to live under the law and when to rebel against it? How do we speak the truth about abuses of power without either blindly defending or demonizing law enforcement?

Why does any of this even matter to us, residents of Decorah, Iowa, far removed from either Maryland or Nepal?

Why does it matter? It matters because Jesus is the vine, and we - all of us - are the branches. And to be connected to the vine is to be connected through Christ to all of those other branches, whether those branches are here in Decorah or all the way in Baltimore and Nepal; whether those branches are black or brown or white, rich or poor, straight or gay, liberal or conservative.

The crises in Baltimore and Nepal make it impossible for us to ignore the fact that so many people in our world live in fear: Young black men. Practicing Muslims. Neighborhoods built on fault lines and typhoon-threatened coastlines. Families living in crime-ridden areas because it's the only housing they can afford. Women who feel vulnerable to unwanted sexual advances. White middle class men and women who feel threatened or defensive when they are confronted with the privileges that they take for granted.

Our news culture keeps us up close and personal with every threat, big or small, likely or unlikely; political, nutritional, international, criminal. There is fear all around. And this fear stands as a symbol of our broken world, as a symbol of sin and death in our midst. Fear stands in the way of God's intentions for this one holy community of all humanity and all creation.

Today in 1 John, we hear these words: "Perfect love casts out fear."

Perfect love casts out all fear. As trite as it may sound, love, I think, is the solution to all the calamities facing our world. Love deeply. Love divinely. Love so strongly that fear is banished. For love, as an action, is what we are called to do in response to the love that was shown to us in Christ.

Love brings justice. Love speaks the truth. Love shows compassion. Love inspires sacrifice. Love gives us responsibility to care for one another and all creation. Love binds together rather than pulling apart. Love creates community. Love brings joy. Love gives life. Love casts out all fear.

All these acts of love are possible only because we are branches of the Christ the vine. He is this main artery of love and goodness and resurrection that flows, unceasing, and we each are branches through with his love flows. This love pulses through us and, ultimately, we bear the fruit of love for the world and we grow green with leaves for the healing of the nations.

"I am the vine and you are the branches; abide in me as I abide in you." In the Greek, those "yous" are plural. This is hugely important! We don't do this work of love as individuals. We are called as a community of faith to love our world back into place; to let God graft onto the vine those who have been cut off by society; to invite others into our work of loving as Christ has empowered us to do. Because not one of us can do any of this alone.

Tuesday morning, after the violence of Monday night’s riots, in one Baltimore neighborhood, volunteers made sack lunches and delivered them to children, because school was canceled and they knew that these children wouldn’t have any lunch without the school’s free meal program.

On Thursday, a colleague of mine serving a congregation in Baltimore sent me a picture of a young girl from his congregation, four or five years old, standing in the street on a sunny morning, wielding a red plastic hammer and a huge smile. Behind her, family members and congregation members raised up real hammers, boarding up broken windows as an act of tenderness for their wounded city. They carried hammers and snacks and love and not fear.

There is love out there. There is hope.

But it takes a community to show love. It takes a community to rebuild the community of this world. It takes a community of divine love, a community gathered and called and sent by a bigger power than just our own spirits. It takes a community of Christ.

Friends, standing here in front of us is this font. Standing here in front of us is this table. Through the splashing of this water and the eating and drinking of this fruit of the earth and the vine, we have already been grafted as branches into the one vine, the one body of Christ. Be empowered by these sacred signs to love without fear. Be strengthened by this holy community to be Christ in a weary world.

Christ is the good vine. We are the branches.
Christ’s love casts out all fear: This is our hope.
Love one another: This is our calling.
We love because he first loved us.
Amen.

Kelly Renee Gissendaner with the theologian Jürgen Moltmann in 2011, when she completed a prison theology program. Credit Ann Borden/Emory University; photo from New York Times

Genesis 17:1–7, 15–16
When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD appeared to Abram, and said to him, "I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. 2And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous." 3Then Abram fell on his face; and God said to him, 4"As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 5No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 6I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. 7I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you. 15God said to Abraham, "As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. 16I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her."

Romans 4:13–25
13For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. 14If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. 15For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. 16For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, 17as it is written, "I have made you the father of many nations") — in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. 18Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become "the father of many nations," according to what was said, "So numerous shall your descendants be." 19He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah's womb. 20No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, 21being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. 22Therefore his faith "was reckoned to him as righteousness." 23Now the words, "it was reckoned to him," were written not for his sake alone, 24but for ours also. It will be reckoned to us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, 25who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.

Mark 8:31–38
31Then [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. 33But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." 34He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? 38Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."

---
There are times that you sit down with the lectionary and can think of a million different directions to preach. And then there are times when you don't have any clear idea, and so you pray - beg, even - for the Holy Spirit to show up. The problem is that sometimes, when you beg, the Holy Spirit indeed shows up...and you sort of wish she hadn't.

Today is one of those days. I'm sure that if I hadn't begged for the Spirit's inspiration, I would have preached some bland but nice sermon about God's covenant promise with Abraham and about the covenant promise that God makes with us through the cross of Christ. But instead, I prayed for the Holy Spirit.

And in a five-minute span, two things happened.

First, I read anew today’s reading from Paul's letter to the Romans, where he contrasts the judgement of the law with the promise of faith: "The law brings wrath,” he writes, and “for this reason [our inheritance] depends on faith, in order that [God’s] promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants.”

Second, I did a quick check of the news, and tripped face-first over the story of Kelly Renee Gissendaner, someone for whom the wrath of the law and the promise of faith stand in dire opposition.

See, Ms. Gissendaner is a death row inmate in Georgia. She was sent to prison in 1998 for orchestrating the murder of her husband at the hands of her boyfriend. Earlier this week, her final petition for clemency was denied by the Georgia board of parole, and she is scheduled to be executed by lethal injection this Monday (tomorrow).

In 2010, Ms. Gissendaner joined some of her fellow inmates in a year-long theology course, run by Atlanta-area divinity schools and universities. She became a dedicated student of theology, passionately devouring works by the likes of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Rowan Williams, and Jurgen Moltmann. As it turned out, Ms. Gissendaner's theology professor was friends with Professor Moltmann. If you aren't quite up on your contemporary theologians, Jurgenn Moltmann is a biggie. He's eighty-something years old and his works are pretty much required reading at all seminaries and divinity schools. With nothing to lose, Ms. Gissendaner asked her teacher whether it might be okay for her to write to him, thanking him for his writings, which had so moved and inspired her. The two became unlikely pen pals, sharing their faith and their insights with one another. Professor Moltmann even offered a commencement address for Ms. Gissendaner and the ten other inmates who were graduating the year-long theology course.

Ms. Gissendaner continued her theology studies even after the program ended, and has kept up her friendship with Professor Moltmann. She has leaned on her ever-deepening faith to sustain her through these last years in prison, and now into these last few days of her life. She has served as spiritual advisor and counselor to other women in prison with her. She has admitted to the brutal and broken circumstances of her crime. She has prayed and confessed and become a sign of the mercy of God. She has turned to God with her moments of trust and moments of doubt and moments of anger. And now, she looks to God as the giver of resurrection and life as she stares her own mortality squarely in the face.

Jesus says, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?"

Yes, Jesus says, the value of life is infinite, incomprehensible. So what does it profit any one of us to gain the whole world, and in the meantime, lose our lives? What is the cost of losing a life, either outside the law or at the hands of the law? What does it profit any one of us to be arbitrator of life and death? In the grand scheme of things, knowing that none of us will escape the cost of death, what is the true value of our lives, and where does that value come from?

Jesus, being no stranger to human life, human suffering, and human death, is also no stranger to being handed a life sentence. I have to believe that these words about the way of the cross are, at least in part, born out of the terror and grief of staring down his own untimely death at the hands of an empire, a law, and a people who will fail him.

We, as humans, routinely, spectacularly fail one another. Abraham and Sarah had failed one another in their childless old age. Peter had failed Jesus in a moment of weakness (and would continue to do so). Kelly Renee Gissendaner, by her actions, failed herself and her boyfriend and her husband and the social contract. And parole boards and prosecutors and judges and juries have now failed her. Someday, we, too, will be failed by our systems and structures, and ultimately, by our mortal bodies themselves.

The threat of death makes us honest, I think. Makes us see more clearly what really matters. Makes us more desperate to imagine a future with hope. Makes us more concerned with finding a word of promise to leave for those who will come after us.

This word of promise doesn't come from laws or institutions or human logic. Friends, our justice system will not save us. Neither will any attempts at vigilante justice. Neither capitalism nor Congress, banks nor universities, hospitals nor public servants will be able to guarantee us health, happiness, and life.

But Abraham and Sarah's story, the fervent and effective witness of Peter and Paul and all the apostles, and the very resurrection of Christ serve as reminders to us that the promise of God is an unbreakable promise for a future, and a future with hope, no matter how unlikely it seems. A future that is bigger than we are, a future that does not depend upon fallible human hands and hearts. A future of reconciliation and mercy and beautiful justice that God is ushering in despite all of our best attempts to mess it up.

My heart grieves, it breaks, for Kelly Renee Gissendaner. And for all criminals on death row. It breaks for their friends and peers and for their jailers. It breaks for lawyers and for parole boards and judges and juries. My heart breaks for the victims of violent crimes and their families and friends and supporters. I mean...my heart breaks for a lot of things. Basically, it breaks for all the ways that the laws of this world, written and unwritten, miss the mark in securing a hopeful future for all of our weary world.

The antidote to our grieving, breaking hearts? It is to lose ourselves in faith; to be absorbed by the divine light who gave us life; to put down the cross of anxiety or fear and to take up the cross of Christ; to be willing to lose everything that we might, at the mouth of the empty tomb, gain back everything we hoped for and more. Christ's resurrection is our unshakable assurance of God's promises fulfilled, of the perfect completion of the covenant that God makes with each of us.

When we set our minds on these divine things, rather than on human things, we will see that, though none of us is righteous by our own means, we yet receive righteousness reckoned to us by faith. And whenever and however our mortal lives are taken from us, it is by our faith in the gospel that we - and even Kelly - will yet receive life everlasting.

In the words of the aforementioned Jurgen Moltmann, from his work, Theology of Hope:

Faith…becomes itself a contradiction to the world of death. That is why faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience. It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it. Peace with God means conflict with the world, for the goad of the promised future stabs inexorably into the flesh of every unfulfilled present.

The promise of God for us and for all creation is permanently marked on each and every one of us, in that oil-drawn cross on our foreheads, given to us in baptism. The oil may have long faded away, but the cross marks us forever. It remains our assurance of hope, but is also stands as a testament to our calling.

May we bear God's hope into the world in many and various ways, but specifically as we, the baptized, take seriously our vocation: To live among God's faithful people; to hear the word of God and share in the Lord's supper; to proclaim the good news of God in Christ in word and deed; to serve all people, following the example of Jesus; and perhaps most importantly in our current world, to work for justice and peace in all the world; not peace as the world gives, but peace according to the compassion of Christ.

I pray today for you and for me, that God would raise up in our hearts a fire for justice and an tenderness toward all creation. I pray that we might not fear, but be bold in our proclamation that God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's promise of hope is deeper than human ambition. I pray for Kelly and those who love her. I pray for her murdered husband and all who love him. I pray that we, as a society, continue to question and struggle and seek ways to protect and preserve life. I pray that each of us, driven by our faith, will anticipate God's risen and restored future, and work to bring about glimmers of that light-filled kingdom, however imperfectly.

We pray, come, Holy Spirit, come. Live in us. Move in us. Breathe in us. Challenge us. And send us out as signs of hope, symbols of peace, living witnesses to Christ, our savior, our redeemer, and the life of the world.

Amen.

Luke 1:26-38,46-55
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God." Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.

And Mary said,
"My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

First Coming
by Madeleine L’Engle

He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. He did not wait

till hearts were pure. In joy he came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Three beautiful thoughts from Dietrich Bonhoeffer about the ways that God loves us and comes to us in Advent and Christmas:

Just when everything is bearing down on us to such an extent that we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is really good and light because it comes from God. Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us; whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives...

God is so free and so marvelous that he does wonders where people despair, that he takes what is little and lowly and makes it marvelous. And that is the wonder of all wonders, that God loves the lowly… God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings. God marches right in. He chooses people as his instruments and performs his wonders where one would least expect them. God is near to lowliness; he loves the lost, the neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak and broken...

Jesus stands at the door knocking (Rev. 3:20). In total reality, he comes in the form of the beggar, of the dissolute human child in ragged clothes, asking for help. He confronts you in every person that you meet. As long as there are people, Christ will walk the earth as your neighbor, as the one through whom God calls you, speaks to you, makes demands on you. That is the great seriousness and great blessedness of the Advent message. Christ is standing at the door; he lives in the form of a human being among us.

-from God Is In the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas

Comfort, Comfort Now My People
Music by Latifah Phillips and David Wilton
Lyrics by Johann Olearius, arr. Latifah Phillips and David Wilton

Comfort, comfort now my people Tell of his peace with no end
Comfort, comfort those in darkness Tell them that God's pardon waits for them

The Glory of the Lord now on earth is shed In deserts far and near he will raise what's dead
His peace has been spoken His word is never broken The Kingdom of God is now here

Straight shall, straight shall be what's crooked Making all the rougher places plain
Let your, let your hearts be humble befitting our god's glory and his reign

Let the valleys rise to meet him the hills all will bow down in praise
Let the valleys rise to greet him the hills bow down in praise
Let the valleys rise to greet him the hills bow down in praise

The Glory of the Lord now on earth is shed In deserts far and near he will raise what's dead
The Glory of the Lord now on earth is shed In deserts far and near he will raise what's dead
His peace has been spoken His word is never broken The Kingdom of God is now here

Comfort, comfort now my people Comfort, comfort now my people

"StackingToy" by fullcrimp, on Flickr

Ezekiel 18:25-32
Yet you say, "The way of the LORD is unfair." Hear now, O house of Israel: Is my way unfair? Is it not your ways that are unfair? When the righteous turn away from their righteousness and commit iniquity, they shall die for it; for the iniquity that they have committed they shall die. Again, when the wicked turn away from the wickedness they have committed and do what is lawful and right, they shall save their life. Because they considered and turned away from all the transgressions that they had committed, they shall surely live; they shall not die. Yet the house of Israel says, "The way of the LORD is unfair." O house of Israel, are my ways unfair? Is it not your ways that are unfair?

Therefore I will judge you, O house of Israel, all of you according to your ways, says the Lord GOD. Repent and turn from all your transgressions; otherwise iniquity will be your ruin. Cast away from you all the transgressions that you have committed against me, and get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, says the Lord GOD. Turn, then, and live.

Philippians 2:12-13
Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

Matthew 21:28-32
[Jesus said], "What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' He answered, 'I will not'; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, 'I go, sir'; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?" They said, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him."

--
We are two months away from Sam's first birthday, and he is blessed with loving and doting grandparents and aunts...who are already asking about gift ideas.

In my attempts to put together a birthday list for him, I find myself drawn to things like colorful nesting bowls, stacking rings and stacking towers, and shape sorters, where you have to fit the right shape block through the corresponding hole in the box. Maybe it's my type-A personality coming through, but I have definitely gravitated toward toys that involve putting things in order and getting things in the right place.

Now, Sam will probably take a set of stacking rings and chew on half of them, throw a few of them at the cats, and maybe fit one or two rings back on the base, but with no regard for anything but getting them on there. And I'll be that mom who, when tidying up before bed, will collect all the rings, and put them back on the base in the correct order, from biggest to smallest, in rainbow order.

In last week's gospel, we heard Jesus say that "the first will be last and the last will be first," which, if we are comparing the kingdom of God to a set of stacking rings, might mean that the rings get stacked from smallest to largest, from violet back to red.

In today's gospel, we get yet another picture of the order of things in God's kingdom, and it's even messier. It's the difference between leaving the rings scattered around the room or putting the rings back on the base, in whatever order.

Jesus tells a parable about two sons. The first, when asked by his father to go work in the vineyard, says "no, I don't think so," but later changes his mind and goes out to work. The second, when asked by his father to go, says "sure thing, Dad!" but then didn't go after all. And Jesus asks the religious leaders, "Which is the picture of faithfulness?"

We know the answer that Jesus is fishing for here. The "winner" of the parable (if we put it so bluntly) is the son who changed his mind and went out to work.

In the same way, Jesus says, the faithful are all those who hear God's message of mercy and call to repentance and change their ways from sinfulness toward seeking God's will.

If this means that prostitutes and tax collectors and adulterers and drug addicts and bullies and crooks who repent end up first in line, ahead of religious leaders and "good" people and regular worship attenders who don't see their need for repentance, so be it.

It's not the usual order of things. We're used to being sorted by our accomplishments and by our work ethic and even by our morals and values. We're used to being stacked up from best to worst. We probably also function believing that not all rings are worth adding to the stack in the first place. But in the kingdom of God, we are stacked up not in order of relative sinfulness, but by our willingness to heed the Spirit's call to repentance, by our willingness to see ourselves as sinners in need of forgiveness.

I'm not sure which is the more uncomfortable thought - that even tax collectors and dirtbags will be gathered up from the floor and stacked back up, or that we ourselves might be stacked up right next to them on the post, big rings smushed together next to small rings, yellow rings next to purple rings next to red rings, big sins and little sins on top of each other, all out of order.

It's not quite fair. And as it turns out, God doesn't really care so much about fairness, at least not fairness as we would understand it.

From our first reading from Ezekiel:

You say, “The way of the Lord is unfair.” Hear now, O house of Israel: Is my way unfair? Is it not your ways that are unfair? When the righteous turn away from their righteousness and commit iniquity, they shall die for it; when the wicked turn away from the wickedness they have committed and do what is lawful and right, they shall save their life. Yet you say, “The way of the Lord is unfair.” O house of Israel, are my ways unfair? Is it not your ways that are unfair?

Oh my friends, I know that I struggle with God's definition of "fairness."

I know that I'm not that guy who, disgruntled, set fire to the basement of an air traffic control center outside Chicago, effectively shutting down two major airports for the weekend. And I know that I am not the target of a manhunt in Pennsylvania after shooting to state troopers. I know that I have not punched out my girlfriend in an elevator. I know that I am not a violent religious fanatic and terrorist in Syria.

Like Jonah in last week's readings, like the house of Israel in today's reading from Ezekiel, I balk at the knowledge that God is gracious, and that he will show mercy to all who repent.

I really want only the "right" rings to fit back onto that base, and I want them on there in the "right" order. I want to believe that I am a better version of a sinner than other worse sinners, and even if I can make peace with the idea that God will forgive all who repent, I still wish that I'd get a little extra credit, a better place in line.

In our Lutheran liturgy, our worship has the option of opening with either Confession & Forgiveness or Thanksgiving for Baptism. Liturgically, they serve the same function. They are both rites that remind us of God's mercy in Christ. Baptism, as a dying to sin and a rising to Christ, is the same sort of reminder of our sinfulness and God's forgiveness as praying our confession and hearing absolution.

But I think there is a reason that I gravitate toward using the Thanksgiving for Baptism. I'm much more comfortable being assured of God's mercy swirling in the baptismal waters than I am standing up and having to take stock of my own brokenness when we read the prayer of Confession together.

I don't like having to admit that I'm captive to sin. I don't like admitting that my whole person is capable of straying from God's will - thought, word, and deed. I don't like admitting that I'm just as broken in the things that I have left undone as in the wayward things that I've actively done.

But this time of confession and reflection is a great equalizer, isn't it? When we speak it, we come to grips with our own need for grace, and are reminded that our neighbors, both in these pews and outside thee walls, are also in need of grace.

And if it's unfair that Christ on the cross might have died for the sinfulness of big-time, super-bad sinners, then it's just as unfair that Christ on the cross might have died for me and my own sins and strayings.

Paul writes to the Philippians, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure."

Working out our salvation with fear and trembling means allowing ourselves to face our shortcomings in order that we might be humble enough to give God credit for whatever good fruit we bear in faith.

Working out our salvation with fear and trembling means letting ourselves be shattered, each week (and each day, even!), by the truth that we are broken, and then letting God put all of our pieces back together with the assurance of our forgiveness in Christ.

Working out our salvation with fear and trembling means trusting God's hands to pick us up and stack us in his kingdom alongside all whom God loves.

Because at the end of the day, God doesn't care about whatever lip-service we might pay to him. He doesn't care how many religious books we've read or how many worship notes we've turned in.

He only cares about the Spirit moving in us to spark faith, seeing ourselves as sinners in need of Christ's redeeming. And whether we feel this call to repentance early in the game or late in the game, whether we have big, momentous sins in our past or whether we are suffering the sin version of "death by a thousand paper cuts," God is quick to redeem all who seek forgiveness. God does not withhold grace from those who feel broken.

May you hear anew today the good news that there is forgiveness and mercy waiting for you. May you continue to feel God's Spirit moving in your heart, the power of God at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

For God in Christ says to you and to me, "Don't fall into despair. I will give you a new heart and a new spirit! I will stack you back up and put you back in order. Turn to me and live."

"The Triumphal Entry" by Calvin Sun, on Flickr

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Coming to the City Nearest You
by Carol Penner

Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Jesus comes to the gate, to the synagogue,
to houses prepared for wedding parties,
to the pools where people wait to be healed,
to the temple where lambs are sold,
to gardens, beautiful in the moonlight.
He comes to the governor’s palace.

Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you,
to new subdivisions and trailer parks,
to penthouses and basement apartments,
to the factory, the hospital and the Cineplex,
to the big box outlet centre and to churches,
with the same old same old message,
unchanged from the beginning of time.

Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you
with his Good News and…
Hope erupts! Joy springs forth!
The very stones cry out,
“Hosanna in the highest,
blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
The crowds jostle and push,
they can’t get close enough!
People running alongside flinging down their coats before him!
Jesus, the parade marshal, waving, smiling.
The paparazzi elbow for room,
looking for that perfect picture for the headline,
“The Man Who Would Be King”.

Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you
and gets the red carpet treatment.
Children waving real palm branches from the florist,
silk palm branches from Wal-mart,
palms made from green construction paper.
Hosannas ringing in churches, chapels, cathedrals,
in monasteries, basilicas and tent-meetings.
King Jesus, honored in a thousand hymns
in Canada, Cameroon, Calcutta and Canberra.
We LOVE this great big powerful capital K King Jesus
coming in glory and splendor and majesty
and awe and power and might.

Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Kingly, he takes a towel and washes feet.
With majesty, he serves bread and wine.
With honour, he prays all night.
With power, he puts on chains.
Jesus, King of all creation, appears in state
in the eyes of the prisoner, the AIDS orphan, the crack addict,
asking for one cup of cold water,
one coat shared with someone who has none,
one heart, yours,
and a second mile.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Can you see him?

The Work of Christmas
by Dr. Howard Thurman

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.

Ephesians 1:11-23
In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God's own people, to the praise of his glory.

I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

Luke 6:20-31
Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said:"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

"But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

"But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

---
It happened during worship on a Sunday morning in October, just one year ago. Our gospel reading that morning was of Jesus blessing the children, so we had framed our whole worship service around this idea of blessing. During the children's sermon, we talked about places that we bless people, very much like we did in today's children's sermon. We preached blessing from the pulpit, gathered around the font for our prayers of intercession so as to bless one another, and then, during communion, offered stations for healing and blessing and anointing, very much like we do here each month.

Adele took communion and then came to my kneeler. Ninety-six year old Adele. I knew that she hadn't been feeling well recently, and that she had been to the emergency room too many times over the last weeks. But when I asked her what I might pray for, she simply smiled at me and asked that I might bless her.

And so I did. I prayed for God's blessing, and I prayed for healing, and I prayed for peace. I prayed for comfort and strength, and I thanked God for the beauty shining through her. And then, I dipped my finger into the oil, traced the sign of the cross on her forehead, and said to her, "Adele, you are a beloved child of God, and you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."

Words of blessing pulled straight from her baptism, words of blessing that reminded her of her place among all of us who are God's beloved children, all of us who walk this earth as saints.

In the moment, I thought that I was praying for her healing.

I did not know then that I was actually blessing and anointing her and commending her to her maker.

See, Adele passed away that very night.

I think about the things she asked for during that last day - asking me to bless her, asking her family to take her on an afternoon drive through her favorite park to see the fall colors on the trees, and then, later that evening, when she felt her body failing, asking her family not to call for an ambulance, but rather to let her remain in her house to die in peace.

It shakes me, even now, to think that somehow, in blessing her, I was unknowingly preparing her heart and soul for a peaceful passing.

And it is still a beautiful mystery to me that, on that last morning of her life, when she could have asked for prayers for anything, Adele simply asked to be blessed.

* * *

Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, exclude you, revile you, defame you on account of the Son of Man; rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven."

We each want to be blessed, I think. We each want to know that our lives are beautiful and holy. We look to all the saints who have gone before us, and want to know, deep in our hearts, that our lives have as much meaning and memory as theirs do.

This is why I love Luke's version of the Beatitudes - these statements of blessing that Jesus makes. Because Jesus here doesn't say, "Blessed are they," as if blessing were reserved for other people. Jesus says, "Blessed are you," stretching out his hand over each and every one of us.

The words "blessed are you" remind us that we celebrate All Saints Day today, not merely "Beloved departed Saints Day." For it is not just those who have died who are blessed saints, but each and every one of us who know God's promises.

Those words "blessed are you" send us right back to our baptisms, where we are told: "Blessed are you, for you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."

The words "blessed are you" remind us that it is God in Christ who does the act of blessing, and not we ourselves; that Jesus points to each of us and says "you are my blessed child," and when we look at the Beatitudes, it is clear that blessing is not dependent on success or failure, or having our act together, or on the amount of faithfulness we have or the amount of doubt that plagues us.

Blessed are you, Jesus says, who have any sort of need. Blessed are you who feel poor and lacking. Blessed are you who feel outcast and imperfect. Blessed are you who are failing in health or in heart. Blessed are you - right here and right now. Blessed are you who are still vulnerable, Jesus says, but woe to you who walk the earth thinking you have it all together or think that wealth and success and victory are the same as being blessed.

Which are things that we mix up all the time. We talk about our successes as blessings and our failures as curses. We watch our sports heroes attribute their team's victory to God's blessing. We credit God for blessing us when times are good and fruitful.

But the truth is that being blessed by God is way way bigger than that. It's not that we are blessed when good stuff happens and cursed when bad stuff happens. And blessing isn't reserved for the deserving or powerful or virtuous or holy, as if those who face dire situations or natural disasters or extreme poverty or abuse are somehow less deserving of blessing.

No, Jesus speaks blessing precisely to each of us in our most vulnerable states. When we are most aware of our mortality and our fragile existence, we are most receptive to hearing God's promises. I don't know if Adele knew that it was her last day on earth or not, but I know that she was in touch with her own frailty on that Sunday morning, especially ready to hear words of blessing.

She and all the saints who have gone before us knew both joy and struggle; we lift them up in our hearts not because they were giants, but because they were human. They are our everlasting symbols of a God who loves all human beings, rough edges and all, and declares us "saints" by the good grace of his mercy alone. They have set for us an example of blessedness, of living into the inheritance promised to us by God, which we read about in Ephesians.

We, with all the saints, have inherited the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. We have inherited redemption in Christ. We have inherited the hope to which God has called us, the greatness of God's power for we who believe, a power revealed to us in Christ being raised from the dead.

We carry much blessing with us, brothers and sisters. To us and to all the saints, much has been given. The earth and all creation, given to us for our care and careful use. Our hopes and joys and inspirations. Our weaknesses and sorrows that tune our hearts for compassion toward others. Our passions and talents and vocations. Gifts of companionship and beauty. Riches, material and immaterial. Our whole lives.

This, really, is what blessing and sainthood are all about: recognizing our blessedness and channeling it into blessing for others.

What we aspire to as blessed saints of God is faithfulness in all - in recognizing at every moment in every day that all we have is from God, and living accordingly. Stewarding every gift we have received, from our very breath to our material blessings; openness to generosity in all, willingness to empty our hands, knowing that God will fill them up again with bread and wine, that is, our inheritance, that is, the very feast of all the saints.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, called to be saints, I pray that you may forever know that God has blessed you beyond measure. I pray that you, like Adele, might know God's hope and peace to the very end of your days, and that your hearts might be satisfied by the assurance of your own belovedness.

* * *

Blessed are you, saints of God, who have been anointed and sealed at baptism, for you have been beatified by water and by spirit.

Blessed are you, saints of God, no matter how weak or vulnerable you feel, for you have the strength and power of Christ in you.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who wait earnestly for God's promises, for in Christ is your fulfillment, hope, and salvation.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who walk with faith upon this earth, for you have turned your hearts to hope and not to despair.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who serve others and strive for peace, for you have been blessed to be a blessing.

from the Fresh Read blog

Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said:
"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

--Luke 6:20-31

"Generosity on the sidewalks." by Pure Charity, on Flickr

Amos 8:4-7
Hear this, you that trample on the needy,
and bring to ruin the poor of the land,
saying, "When will the new moon be over
so that we may sell grain;
and the sabbath,
so that we may offer wheat for sale?
We will make the ephah small and the shekel great,
and practice deceit with false balances,
buying the poor for silver
and the needy for a pair of sandals,
and selling the sweepings of the wheat."
The LORD has sworn by the pride of Jacob:
Surely I will never forget any of their deeds.

Luke 16:1-13
Then Jesus said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.' Then the manager said to himself, 'What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.' So, summoning his master's debtors one by one, he asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?' He answered, 'A hundred jugs of olive oil.' He said to him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.' Then he asked another, 'And how much do you owe?' He replied, 'A hundred containers of wheat.' He said to him, 'Take your bill and make it eighty.' And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth."

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Our nation's lawmakers are currently stuck in another series of heated budget debates. With an October 1 deadline looming over their heads, Congress struggles with how to make ends meet, and where to place the burden of budget cuts. Already on the chopping block are cuts to the food stamps program and threatened cuts to healthcare.

It is easy to get cynical about the state of our government and the workings of our economy when these sorts of decisions hang in the balance. Our faith calls us to pursue God’s justice and to build up a kingdom of God where special care is given to the poor, the hungry, the outcast, and the powerless, that peace and justice might always prevail. But our economic and government systems call us to seek efficiency, prosperity, and measured justice.

Which means that when Jesus, in today’s gospel, encourages us to be faithful with our wealth, whether in little or in much, we struggle to understand what that might mean for us in our world.

Today’s gospel reading doesn’t, on the surface, seem to give us a satisfactory answer to the question.

Jesus tells the story of a man who has been hired to manage his master’s wealth. This manager is dishonest and corrupt, and squanders away the wealth that he has been charged to care for. Knowing that he’s about to get fired, he decides to continue his shady dealings, that he might make a few friends on the way out who might take care of him one he’s kicked to the curb. So he goes behind his master’s back and reduces the debts of the master’s clients, once again costing his master money. But instead of getting angry, the master folds his arms, gives a chuckle, and commends the manager rather than reprimanding him.

Friends, if you are looking to this parable for an example of how to be faithful stewards of the gifts God has given us...well...I don’t think this story gives us much to go off of, at least on the surface.

I mean, it certainly describes the sort of economic climate that we find ourselves in. A gap between rich and poor that isn’t close to closing, people falling prey to cheating and corruption and shady dealings in order to get ahead, or to make ends meet, shrewd business dealings valued more highly than charity or generosity...

This is the exact sort of economic situation that the prophet Amos was addressing in our first reading today. The rich were getting richer at the expense of the poor, and God sent Amos to speak truth to power, chastising the wealthy for abusing their power, criticizing the businessmen who wanted to rush through the sabbath day and through religious festivals so that they could get back to selling stuff and, even worse, cheating the poorest of their customers.

It’s so easy for us to feel like our hands our tied when we stare down issues of economic justice. Because no matter what our best intentions, we realize very quickly that there is sin and corruption built into the very systems that pay us our wages and give us the means both to live and to give generously.

Julie Clawson is a writer who is especially concerned with issues of faith and justice. A few years back, she went on a mission. A mission to see whether she could buy fundamental, everyday items fair trade. It’s easy enough and popular to buy fair trade coffee and fair trade chocolate, and fair trade gifts. But, she wondered, what would happen if she wanted to buy something as basic as, well, fair trade underwear. It proved difficult and eye-opening. The companies who paid a just wage to their workers had purchased cotton from manufacturers who didn’t pay their field workers justly. The companies who ensured that their materials were produced in an ecologically sensitive way outsourced the assembly of their products to low-wage factories across the world. Julie was shocked to see that, despite her good intentions, it was nearly impossible to make even a fundamental, boring purchase that was just from start to finish.

So if the fingerprints of injustice and dishonesty are all over our money, all over our wealth, all over our commerce, what on earth does it mean for us to follow Jesus’ instruction to be faithful in little and in much? When we feel powerless to change unjust systems, and when our human propensity toward greed or self-interest get mixed up with our desire to do good, what do we do?

This is where today's parable helps us out. A lot.

Yes, there’s a lot of shady stuff happening. The manager takes advantage of his master, squanders his wealth, gets himself fired for doing so, and immediately worries about how to save his own skin. But despite some pretty dishonest motivations, this manager unwittingly does two very, very good things.

First, he reduces the debts of his master’s clients. This means that he eases the financial burden of those who can’t pay their bills. Despite his self-serving motivation, the manager lifts a great weight off of those who are themselves struggling to make ends meet.

Second, he reduces these debts in his master's name. This means that the manager ends up representing his master as gracious and kind, generous and compassionate. Despite his self-serving motivation, the manager reflects the best qualities of the one whom he represents.

These are two lessons that we can all run with.

We are called to do our best to lift burdens off of the shoulders of those who are weighed down. And we are called to do our best to reflect the grace, generosity, and compassion of God our master.

Because, okay. As long as we're still waiting for the full redemption of all things, we are all a jumbled-up mess of sinner and saint. Our good intentions and shady shrewdness get mixed up all the time. But maybe what Jesus is trying to tell us in this parable is that there is yet always good to be done. There are always yet opportunities to be good stewards of everything God has given us, even if some of our screwed-up motives and priorities try to get in the way.

I mean, if we wait for our economic systems to clean up, if we wait for our government to get its act together, if we wait until our financial and spiritual wealth are all purely attained before we turn our focus to those in need, then we'll never get off the ground. If we wait for welfare systems and affordable health insurance systems to run perfectly and efficiently before we are willing to be generous to those in the gaps, we'll never get around to it. If we wait until people are responsible or deserving before we help them, then we’ll never actually offer any assistance.

I was talking to two leaders of our food pantry earlier this week, and they told me that there is this one regular visitor who always, always, rips them off. They know that he’s taking advantage of them. And so they could manage the pantry differently, and impose more checks and balances on clients, and do more rigorous registrations, which would mean taking more time and turning more people away. But they choose to keep things open and free, even if they take small losses along the way, so that more people can be helped more quickly.

There is the urgency in today's gospel reading. Whether in little or much, whether purely attained or ill-gotten, Jesus calls each of us to be faithful with what we have been given. We do not have to be perfect to be faithful.

We simply need to do those two things: Ease the burden of those who are oppressed. Reflect the generosity and compassion of God our master.

This is the heart not only of charity but of stewardship. For everything we have, at the very root, comes from God the creator. Every gift that we share gives glory back to God, and reminds us of the gifts of forgiveness, grace, and life that God in Christ gives to us with each new day.

May God empower us to be generous, to lift up the oppressed, and to live each day ready to share the gifts of his bounty with all creation.

"for the love of money" by bob the builder of luv, on Flickr

Then Jesus said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.' Then the manager said to himself, 'What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.' So, summoning his master's debtors one by one, he asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?' He answered, 'A hundred jugs of olive oil.' He said to him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.' Then he asked another, 'And how much do you owe?' He replied, 'A hundred containers of wheat.' He said to him, 'Take your bill and make it eighty.' And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth." (Luke 16:1-13)

Sunday's gospel began with a discussion of where to sit when you attend a fancy dinner:

"When [Jesus] noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:7-11)

This idea of where you choose to sit reminded me of a funny diagram I encountered not too long ago, all about how to pick the best seat at the table depending on its shape and size (click the picture for a bigger view):

Alex Cornell's "Choosing the Right Seat"

To read the full blog post behind the picture, check out Alex Cornell's "Musical Chairs (Choosing the Right Seat)" [apologies for a few instances of colorful language].

I first encountered this post as a humorous recommendation to introverts, to figure out how to partake in communal meals when you don't have a personality much inclined to make conversation or small talk easily. But really, the post is all about how to choose a powerful place at the table. It's about how to guarantee that you don't get stuck talking to somebody boring, or get left out of the important and interesting conversations. I chuckled at the last scenario, with the two tables, when he makes the observation that no matter what you do, the other table will always crystallize into "the superior group," because I've thought that at a few points in my own life. That no matter what I do, the other table ends up being the cool table, or at least the dynamic table.

And so it's not just the Pharisees that Jesus is talking to in this gospel reading. He's talking to us. He's talking to the parts of our brains that scan the room when we walk in, that make calculated decisions about who we want to be seen with and who we want to avoid. And he's telling us that maybe, instead of worrying about how people see us, we should be seeing - and seeking out! - those who aren't usually seen. Sitting at the table which is slower to fill up. Chatting up the people longing to be pulled in.

Because when we all gather at the table on Sundays to share in the Lord's Supper, there are no set-apart places of honor, no jostling for position, no better or worse dinner company. We are all equals, all beloved, all honored and deserving of honor. Because we are part of the communion of all the saints, and we are made one in the body of Christ, and every seat at the table is blessed.

"Feasting" by aneye4apicture, on Flickr

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14:1, 7-14)

"Not to notice," by Wonderlane, on Flickr

Now [Jesus] was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day." But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?" When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing. (Luke 13:10-17)

"Barn Building" by Mangrove Mike, on Flickr

Someone in the crowd said to Jesus, "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me." But he said to him, "Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?" And he said to them, "Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions." Then he told them a parable: "The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, 'What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?' Then he said, 'I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.' But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?' So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God." (Luke 12:13-21)