Keeping the Season

"Dirty Garden Feet" by jana christy, on Flickr

Reading for the day: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Washing Feet
by Robert Fawcett

Being thorough, I remove a holey sock
to view a diabetic man’s filthy feet.
I use the time to complete our talk
of what drove him to live on the street
as I wonder how any of this can help.

While he tells me more of his medical past,
I run warm water into a stainless bowl.
I immerse both his feet and begin to ask
myself what good it does for this poor soul
to allow himself to undergo this ablution.

Silently I sluice the water between his toes
and soap the crusty callous at his heel.
I marvel at his arch and notice how closely
it fits my palm. I know he can feel
this proximity too. He shuts his eyes.

Months of useless layers peel away,
revealing layers useless weeks ago.
Removing the tough brown hide of yesterday
yields clean pink skin, but we both know
this ritual will be useless days from now.

Still, this moment may withstand time’s test,
teaching us each lessons unknown before.
I learn the medicine of selflessness.
He learns what medicine is really for–
the hope that basin, soap and touch can bear.

"Palm" by brooklin, on Flickr

Luke 19:28-40
After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

--
Friends, here we are, again, at the beginning of the end. Palm Sunday, our entry into Holy Week, the first movement of a long and difficult story that leads to death, and then to resurrection.

Palm Sunday is the beginning, which makes it a bit of a challenge to preach, because every sermon seems unfinished. Jesus has come to the city, but for what? We don’t actually hear the most important parts of the story until later in the week.

This year, as I kept pouring over the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem, I found myself thinking most deeply about the disciples, and about how joyful and confident they are in their faith today, and I started thinking about how their faith will crumbles as Jesus gets closer and closer to the cross.

Did you notice, when we read from Luke’s gospel today, that unlike the other gospel writers, he doesn’t say anything about palm branches? And the word “hosanna” doesn’t show up? And there aren’t huge crowds of people and children. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem is heralded only by the disciples (who are doing their best to make some noise) and the Pharisees (who are trying to hush them up).

Jesus comes down the path, and it is the disciples, the faithful ones, who can't hide their excitement about Christ their king, who is is Son of God, Ruler of the Universe, teacher, healer, redeemer. In this moment, they aren't ashamed of who they are or what they believe.

They "praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen" and they shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” It's a reprise of the song of the angels at Jesus' birth

Right now, on the hillside, with nobody but a few religious authorities to see them, they don't care that they are making a ruckus, they aren't worried that their shouting might offend the empire. When the authorities rebuke Jesus for this unsightly and unsanctioned demonstration, he says that if the disciples weren’t shouting, the very stones along the path would be crying out.

The stones and the disciples alike trust that Jesus is the one who brings cosmic love, forgiveness, redemption, salvation, peace, and grace to the deepest longings and groaning of the universe. I have no doubt that the disciples were sincere and earnest as they cheered alongside the road. They have noble and grand intentions.

But things are about to get unsafe. And difficult. And real.

There will be an awkward washing of feet and a last family meal. There will be an armed cohort rushing them in the garden, and a kiss of betrayal, and all of the sudden, the obnoxious but neutral Roman occupation will start to feel threatening, and Jesus will be treated as a common criminal, and all of the sudden, all of the beautiful, idealistic visions of Jesus's promised kingdom will seem less immediate and less important than keeping a low profile to save their own skins.

Do I think that the disciples intended to desert Jesus in the garden? Do I think that Judas, when he first started following Jesus, intended to become cynical and greedy and bent toward betrayal? Do I think that Peter intended to deny Jesus around the fire? Do I think that the disciples, looking post-resurrection, intended to be so afraid that they would lock themselves away in an upper room?

I don't think the disciples intended any of this.

They followed Jesus as far as they did because they believed in his vision of an upside-down kingdom. Every miracle that he did, every person he healed, every parable he taught revealed to them a beautiful world of hope and healing, running counter to politics and power as usual.

But maybe they hoped that Jesus was exaggerating when he said that this kingdom could only come through suffering and his death. And when things start to look dangerous and bleak for Jesus, and for the disciples by association, their fears start to overcome their faith. Giving into the anonymity off the masses starts to sound appealing. Staying silent seems more prudent than crying out.

As I've been preparing for Holy Week this year, I've started to latch on to the absurdity off this holy story at the very heart of our faith. That we need Jesus to be a servant, to give his body for us, to give up his pride and his life on the cross. That somehow death and resurrection bring salvation. It is a crazy-hard sell.

So I guess what I’m saying is that on days then the stakes aren’t so high, I’m right there with the cheering disciples who praise Jesus as king. And I am great at talking a big game about how Christ’s suffering redeems our suffering…when there is nothing in particular riding on those words. And sure, I can stand up here and preach inside the safety of the sanctuary that Jesus is Lord.

But ask me the last time I started a conversation about the saving grace of the suffering Christ with an acquaintance down at Java John's. Ask me if I always have the courage to believe that God really is suffering along side me when I am feeling lonely as I grieve for myself or for the world. Or ask me the last time that I shamelessly stood up for the plight of the poor, the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless, the immigrant, the refugee, the outcast or the outlaw...without either first putting a disclaimer on my words, or following up my words with an apology.

I totally understand the reluctance of the disciples to keep up their cheering as the pathway led closer and closer to the cross. Sometimes, when the stakes get high, it seems far more practical and neutral to stay quiet, lest you offend anybody, and to stay hidden, lest you accidentally admit to yourself or others that maybe you don't have your faith all figured out.

This is exactly why we can’t skip from Palm Sunday to Easter.

I mean, if life were all Palm Sundays and Easter mornings, then faith would be only confident hosannas and joyous alleluias. And we’d send out the message that being a person of faith means that you always get it right, and you always live up to your end of the baptismal covenant, and that nothing bad happens and nothing ever scares you and somehow faith means that death or despair aren’t real.

Except that today we laud a king who is marching into Jerusalem not to pretend that everything is perfect, but to take on every fear, every doubt, every frailty. Jesus did exactly what we could never do. He took the difficult, awkward, painful, shameful, weak stuff in our hearts and in our world, and instead of bringing shame or judgement, he brought redemption and resurrection.

It is how salvation is meant to work.

God shows up in fragile places: in a helpless baby, in a mortal human form, in an outcast, a suffering servant, one who washes feet and touches lepers and reinterprets himself as the Passover lamb, one who is mocked, tripped, unjustly accused, hungry, thirsty, bleeding, dying.

It is the cross that exposes God. It is the cross that exposes us. It leaves nothing hidden and, more importantly, it leaves nothing unredeemed.

What a crazy story our faith is. That the God of everything would be brought to nothing so that all of your own weak and worried parts would be brought to new life. So that all of the dark shadows of this world might not win the day. So that the hidden things might be uncovered, and all might be brought to light. Your fear and your shame, our brokenness and our ailing creation. All of it revealed. All of it redeemed. All of it saved.

So maybe….maybe we give a little grace to the disciples this week. And maybe we give a little grace to ourselves. It is okay if we don’t have it all together this week, because honestly, the whole story of our faith is about to come unhinged. It’s going to get scary and painful and confusing.

So if you get squicked out on Maundy Thursday at the thought of someone washing your feet, it’s ok.
If you get angry at Judas for betraying Jesus and if you get angry at Peter for denying Jesus, it’s okay.
If you cry on Good Friday when Jesus dies, it’s okay.
And if you spend Holy Saturday in a fog, because you really aren’t exactly sure what happens in the waiting space between death and resurrection, it’s okay.

If you have grand intentions in faith, but get scared, it’s okay.
If you love Jesus but don’t have it all together, it’s okay.

The disciples didn’t have it all together, either.

And yet…Jesus died to save them anyway.
And he died to save you too.

Amen.

"Holy Virgin Mary" by Walter A. Aue, on Flickr

We all need to be told that God loves us, and the mystery of the Annunciation reveals an aspect of that love. But it also suggests that our response to this love is critical....

Mary's "How can this be?" is [simple and profound.] She does not lose her voice but finds it. Like any of the prophets, she asserts herself before God, saying, "Here am I." There is no arrogance, however, but only holy fear and wonder. Mary proceeds - as we must do in life - making her commitment without knowing much about what it will entail or were it will lead. I treasure the story because it forces me to ask: When the mystery of God's love breaks through into my consciousness, do I run from it? Do I ask of it what it cannot answer? Shrugging, do I retreat into facile cliches, the popular but false wisdom of what "we all know"? Or am I virgin enough to respond from my deepest, truest self, and say something new, a "yes" that will change me forever?

-Kathleen Norris, from "Annunciation" in Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith

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

In the Incarnation, Christ became a living metaphor - the Word. Jesus took the risk of reducing himself to what we could see and touch and listen to, a living message that bridged the huge communication gap between deity and humankind.

-Lucy Shaw, Wintersong

"We have art in order not to die from the truth" by Matheus Lopes, on Flickr

"Heavenly comfort is not comforting at all. Heavenly comfort, rather, is truth, which blows away human fantasies that we can live forever, control everything, or fake our lives before God."

-Sara Miles, City of God: Faith in the Streets

"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."

"Crumbs" by Lewis Taylor, on Flickr

Matthew 15:21-28
Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." He answered, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly.

"Jesus heals a man born blind" by Peter, on Flickr

John 9:1-41
As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam" (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, "Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?" Some were saying, "It is he." Others were saying, "No, but it is someone like him." He kept saying, "I am the man." But they kept asking him, "Then how were your eyes opened?" He answered, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight." They said to him, "Where is he?" He said, "I do not know."

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, "He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see." Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath." But others said, "How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?" And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, "What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened." He said, "He is a prophet."

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, "Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?" His parents answered, "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself." His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, "Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner." He answered, "I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see." They said to him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" He answered them, "I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?" Then they reviled him, saying, "You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from." The man answered, "Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." They answered him, "You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?" And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him." Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he." He said, "Lord, I believe." And he worshiped him. Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind." Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, "Surely we are not blind, are we?" Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, 'We see,' your sin remains.
---

Today’s gospel is one of my favorites. I have a soft spot for Bible stories that make me chuckle. Here we have a man, healed of blindness, and nobody believes him. They pass him back and forth amongst themselves, and they even go visit his parents to double check if he was really blind, and the Pharisees and crowds make him tell his story over and over again, and in a moment of exasperation, the man asks, “Why do you want to hear this again? Do you want to be disciples too?”

It is a story of sight, but it is really a story of people seeing past each other, and people whose sights are set on the wrong questions.

For as many times as I’ve read this passage in my lifetime, I noticed something new in the text as I prepared to preach it. For the first time, I noticed just how preoccupied everybody seems to be with seeing sin.

From the very beginning of the passage, the disciples set the tone when they ask Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” See, in Jesus’ time, there was the belief that sin came with real, physical consequences. Physical ailments and deformities were believed to be God’s punishment for something that you or someone before you did. So to be born blind must have meant that God was pretty unhappy with you.

And then the Pharisees are in rare form in today’s gospel. They reject the healed man’s testimony, writing him off as a sinner. They also call Jesus a sinner for healing on the sabbath. The question of whether Jesus is a sinner is really a question of whether he is doing God’s will or not. The Pharisees believe that they are doing God’s will, upholding the law and being piously religious in all areas of their lives. The Pharisees know that Jesus is not like them, and in fact routinely criticizes them. So in their eyes, only one of two things can be true. Either a)They are doing God’s will, which means Jesus is not, which means that he is a sinner for healing on the Sabbath, or b)Jesus is doing God’s will, which means that they are not. So they are quick to write off Jesus as a sinner, because they are afraid.

And then, finally, the crowds. They, too, are used to seeing this man for his limitations and shortcomings. When his eyes are opened, the crowds don’t recognize him anymore. People in the village ask each other, “Doesn’t he remind you of the blind man who used to sit here and beg?” When they can no longer see him for his limits, they don’t see him at all.

I mean, my goodness! Instead of rejoicing with a man who had been handed back his life, everyone around him reacts with fear, suspicion, and judgement. They are so preoccupied with seeing sin and limitation that they are blind to the beautiful, amazing, limitless work of God in Christ.

And then I turn on my radio and listen to news stories about political scandals, and I think about our media obsession with negative celebrity gossip. I think about how society’s knee-jerk reaction is to blame people for their troubles. I think about our own tendency to jump to the worst conclusions about each other, especially in the midst of situations that challenge us, scare us, or disagree with things that we hold dear. I think about the ease with which each of us can pick out our own faults, failings and shortcomings, how we don’t know how to receive compliments well because we are by nature self-conscious of the ways that we don’t live up to our own expectations.

We aren’t that different than the crowds and disciples and Pharisees, are we? We, too, are in the sin-seeing business. It is far easier for us to see limits than it is to see and rejoice over the good work that God in Christ is accomplishing in our world.

There are two people in today’s gospel, however, who see clearly, who see possibility rather than limit.

The first is Jesus. Jesus looks at the blind man standing before him and doesn’t focus on his limitations, his sinfulness, or his worthiness. Jesus looks at the man born blind and sees in him a man who can be healed. Jesus looks at the man born blind and sees a medium through which the glory of God can be revealed.

Jesus looks at us the same way. He says at the end of today’s reading that his judgment is not for those who know their own sins and limitations, but for those who don’t see their brokenness. Friends, how many of us know too well the places in our lives where we don’t measure up, where we are broken and in need of forgiveness!

And so Jesus looks at us with eyes of compassion. He doesn’t define us by who we are not, by what we can’t do, by what we’re ashamed of, by what limits us. Jesus sees in us, just like in the man he healed, the immense possibility that the glory of God might be revealed in and through us.

And the second person who sees rightly in today’s gospel is the man who once was blind, who now can see. Healed by the man who saw in him the image of God, the once-blind man sees Jesus for who he really is: the Messiah, the Son of God, the Savior. And having seen Jesus, he wants others to see Jesus, too. He shares his testimony, and he sees the Pharisees and villages with eyes of patience and compassion. Even as they continue to pester him and challenge him, he yet responds with words of praise for the God who has been revealed in the regaining of his sight.

Knowing that Jesus sees us and loves us for who we are and for who we may yet become, Jesus empowers us to look out at our world with his eyes of forgiveness and love.

You might now the adage, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.”

This isn’t what Jesus calls us to do. We are not called to see others for their sin and then love them anyway. Jesus simply calls us to see his possibility where the world seems limitation. We are not called to judge, but to show mercy. We are called to rejoice with the triumphs of our brothers and sisters instead of worrying about whether they are deserving. We are called to love our neighbor as ourselves. We are empowered by our own encounter with Christ to look for ways that God’s glory shines in one another and in our world.

It has been nearly two weeks since the death of Fred Phelps, the founder of Westboro Baptist Church, a small congregation infamous for holding anti-gay protests at military funerals, celebrity funerals, and other public, media-heavy events. While some, even (or especially) in Christian circles saw his passing as a relief, a “good riddance” to a man full of spite and hatred, others chose to see him with different eyes.

Many Christians, of all stripes, prayed for his peace and comfort in his last days of life, and prayed for his family and his congregation.

Even more striking was an episode that took place two days after his death.

Westboro Baptist set up a protest outside of a concert in Kansas City, Missouri. They stood on one side of the road with signs telling people that God hates them, that they are sinners, that they are doomed to God’s wrath.

Across the street, a surprising counter-protest emerged. Concert-goers had organized themselves to counter negative messages with positive ones. They held up signs and banners expressing messages of love and compassion, including a big banner that said, "Sorry for your loss.”

Where it would have been so easy to see sin in those who carried on a legacy of seeing and judging the perceived sins of others, this small group across the street chose to see their Westboro brothers and sisters with the eyes of compassion, grace, and love.

My prayer for you and for me today is that we might see our world through the eyes of Christ. That we might look at ourselves with grace and that we might look upon our neighbors with mercy. That we might look for God’s possibility instead of human limitation. That we might seek out loveliness in our world and in one another.

Madeleine L’Engle wrote a poem about the man who received sight, the song that she imagined was on his hear and lips. It praises God for all of the beauty and possibility that he sees around him:

Song of Blind Bartimaeus After His Healing
All praise to thee, my God, this night
for all I see, both night and day.
All praise for loveliness of things!

During the shadows of un-sight
you kept the raging fears at by.
All praise to thee, my God, this night

for all the blessings of the light,
for sand and sun and eagles’ wings,
all praise for loveliness of things!

Praise for sandals, garments white,
for children’s faces, eyes alight,
all praise to thee, my God, this night.

All praise for butterflies in flight,
for work-worn hands, for golden hay,
the purple shadows evening brings,

for brass and copper polished bright,
for lifting light that shows the way,
all praise to thee, my God, this night,
all praise for loveliness of things!
(from The Ordering of Love)

May God empower you, this day and always, to see the loveliness of things, of all that he has made, and may your eyes be blessed by the sight. Amen.

The Cherry Tree Carol
When Joseph was an old man, an old man was he
He courted Virgin Mary, the queen of Galilee
He courted Virgin Mary, the queen of Galilee

When Joseph and Mary were walking one day
Here is apples and cherries so fair to behold
Here is apples and cherries so fair to behold

Then Mary spoke to Joseph so meek and so mild
"Joseph, gather me some cherries for I am with child"
"Oh Joseph, gather me some cherries for I am with child "

Then Joseph flew in anger, in anger he flew
"Oh, let the father of the baby gather cherries for you"
"Oh, let the father of the baby gather cherries for you"

So the cherry-tree bowed low down, low down to the ground
And Mary gathered cherries while Joseph stood down
And Mary gathered cherries while Joseph stood down

Then Joseph took Mary all on his right knee
Crying, "Lord, have mercy for what I have done"
Crying, "Lord, have mercy for what I have done"

When Joseph was an old man, an old man was he
He courted Virgin Mary, the queen of Galilee
He courted Virgin Mary, the queen of Galilee

"Aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan Philippines" by moelzcore, on Flickr

Malachi 4:1-2a
See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the LORD of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.

2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, and we did not eat anyone's bread without paying for it; but with toil and labor we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. This was not because we do not have that right, but in order to give you an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.

Luke 21:5-19
When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, [Jesus] said, "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."

They asked him, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" And he said, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and, 'The time is near!' Do not go after them.

"When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately. "Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

---
Today is another one of those mornings when, after our readings, it feels strange and even difficult to respond “Thanks be to God!”

Our readings this morning certainly point to a particular reality: the end and destruction of all things. This isn’t by accident. Today is the second to last week of the church year. The end of the church year points us toward the end of all things, when Christ will come in glory to reign over heaven and earth. Next Sunday is Christ the King Sunday, when we celebrate this king for whom we wait, and then the very next week, we begin Advent, which is the very season in which we wait for the coming of Christ to earth, Christ who came not as a whirlwind or earthquake, but as a tiny, helpless baby.

So in the turn of the church seasons, today is the beginning of the end. Our readings reflect that. Malachi warns of the impending day of the Lord, when good and evil will be judged by fire. Paul in Thessalonians urges believers to stay vigilant and not to remain idle as they await the return of Christ. And Jesus, in today’s gospel, paints for the disciples a bleak picture of the destruction of the temple, the fall of Jerusalem, and the persecution of his followers - pointing both to a historical reality and to a larger metaphor for the eventual end of all things.

There are many questions that arise from today’s readings - questions about what the end of the world will look like, questions about Christ’s return, questions about good and evil, chaos and order, questions about whether the day of the Lord is one of destruction or peace.

But the question that is on my heart today, the question raised and answered, however briefly, by Malachi and Jesus, is the question, “What does life look like on the far side of the end of the world?”

Now let’s be clear for a moment. When we talk today about the end of the world and the far side of the end of the world, I am not channeling Harold Camping or Hal Lindsay or any volume of the Left Behind series. It is neither helpful or appropriate for us to look to today’s readings as predictions for when and how The End - capital T, capital E - will happen. Nor is it particularly useful to use texts as these to interpret natural disasters, wars, insurrections, and persecutions as proof that we are living in some apocalyptic end time.

When I raise the question, “What does life look like on the far side of the end of the world?” I am really asking what hope there is for us and for our world on the far side of griefs and pains and disasters that feel insurmountable; on the far side of those times when it looks as if evil triumphs and all is lost.

This question, “What does life look like on the far side of the world?” is no more pressing in my heart right now than when I look at what has happened over the last week in the Philippines, with the arrival of super-typhoon Haiyan and the recovery efforts that are now being made.

You might now know the name Bruce Reyes-Chow, but he is a leader, teacher, and influential voice in the Presbyterian Church(USA). He arrived in the Philippines back at the beginning of this month to take on a month-long university teaching assignment. It was only a few days after his arrival that warnings about the typhoon started rolling in.

The area of the Philippines where he is serving was mostly spared from the damage, but late this last week, he had the opportunity to travel with a relief convoy to Tacloban City on the island of Leyte, one of the hardest-hit areas of the country.

He shared some play-by-play of his journey on Twitter, in a series of haunting, 140-character at a time updates:

• Approaching Leyte and no lights to be seen anywhere on the island. Kinda eerie.
• 15 vehicle convoy ready to take off. A mix of military, police, relief workers, and supplies.
• Starting to see some typhoon damage: fallen trees, downed power lines, abandoned homes.
• Hard to describe what we're seeing. Villages wiped out, but people living in the ruins as they try to rebuild.
• About 30 kilometers out (of Tacloban) and we are beginning to see bodies on the side of the road.
• Entering Tacloban City.
• Lots of garbage and debris still on the streets.
• In comparison to other places in the Philippines, Tacloban is a relative ghost town. Few people on the streets.
• Standing in the middle of all the destruction, I'm not sure I can say it's better or worse than I had expected - but it is bad
• Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread...

Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread.

This sentence might just be the answer to the question, “What does life look like on the far side of the end of the world?”

Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread.

Jesus says, "When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified...by your endurance you will gain your souls." And later, in the verses following today's gospel, Jesus goes on to say, "when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Malachi says, “for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.”

Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread.

I imagine that Bruce, standing there at the edge of the road, felt as if he were standing right at the edge of the world, that fine line between despair and hope, that thin space between the brokenness of the world as it is and the hope of the world as it will one day be.

This is what faith does to us.

It puts us at the edge, always. It thins the boundary between this world and the next. We live with one foot here and one foot in God’s future. Because we live in this mixed-up “already and not yet” space. Christ has been raised from the dead, so our redemption has been won and God’s kingdom has already begun, on earth as it is in heaven. And yet Christ’s return has not yet happened, and the new Jerusalem has not yet descended to earth, and God’s new creation has not yet been fulfilled.

In this space, we wait for the salvation that has already been given to us. And in this space, we have the unique ability to look at death and yet hope for life, and to see destruction and yet hope for redemption.

Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread.

The assurance in our readings today is that God offers grace, hope, and healing even at the far side of the end of the world; God will not abandon us; we will emerge triumphant.

And so, like the Thessalonians to whom Paul writes, we are not called to idleness but to action. We are called, every day, to defy the despair around us by living out God’s hope and staying in motion as we live lives of service and work for justice and peace.

Even in the midst of the destruction around us, there is grace in standing along the side of the road breaking bread.

We are called to stand at the edge of the road and to break bread with our neighbors in pain.
We are called to stand at the edge of the road and to break bread with our groaning creation.
We are called to stand at the edge of the road and to break bread with troubled souls and warring nations.
We are called to stand at the edge of the road and to break bread with the poor and oppressed.
We are called to stand at the edge of the road to break bread for the healing of the world.

My friends, it is a joy and privilege to stand here today with you at the edge of the road. For whatever fear or destruction plague us, there is yet grace to be found here, in the breaking of the bread, in our fellowship together, as Christ nourishes and strengthens us with his own body and blood. For even in the midst of whatever destruction befall us, there is yet grace to be found.

May you trust, this day and always, that God has counted you among his faithful, and will not let one hair of your head perish outside of his grace. May you find in Christ the strength to endure. May you feel the Spirit refresh your soul, this day and every day.

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.

"Mulberry Tree" by kamcollam, on Flickr

Jesus said to his disciples, "Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble. Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, 'I repent,' you must forgive."

The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.

Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'" (Luke 17:1-10)

"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."

---
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)

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: 'ye were bought at a price,' and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God."

--The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer

"Justice's Scales" by estenh, on Flickr

1 Kings 21:1-10; 17-21
Later the following events took place: Naboth the Jezreelite had a vineyard in Jezreel, beside the palace of King Ahab of Samaria.  And Ahab said to Naboth, "Give me your vineyard, so that I may have it for a vegetable garden, because it is near my house; I will give you a better vineyard for it; or, if it seems good to you, I will give you its value in money." But Naboth said to Ahab, "The LORD forbid that I should give you my ancestral inheritance." Ahab went home resentful and sullen because of what Naboth the Jezreelite had said to him; for he had said, "I will not give you my ancestral inheritance." He lay down on his bed, turned away his face, and would not eat. His wife Jezebel came to him and said, "Why are you so depressed that you will not eat?" He said to her, "Because I spoke to Naboth the Jezreelite and said to him, 'Give me your vineyard for money; or else, if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard for it'; but he answered, 'I will not give you my vineyard.'" His wife Jezebel said to him, "Do you now govern Israel? Get up, eat some food, and be cheerful; I will give you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite." So she wrote letters in Ahab's name and sealed them with his seal; she sent the letters to the elders and the nobles who lived with Naboth in his city. She wrote in the letters, "Proclaim a fast, and seat Naboth at the head of the assembly; seat two scoundrels opposite him, and have them bring a charge against him, saying, 'You have cursed God and the king.' Then take him out, and stone him to death." Then the word of the LORD came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying:  Go down to meet King Ahab of Israel, who rules in Samaria; he is now in the vineyard of Naboth, where he has gone to take possession.  You shall say to him, "Thus says the LORD: Have you killed, and also taken possession?" You shall say to him, "Thus says the LORD: In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood." Ahab said to Elijah, "Have you found me, O my enemy?" He answered, "I have found you. Because you have sold yourself to do what is evil in the sight of the LORD, I will bring disaster on you."

Luke 7:36-50
One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him — that she is a sinner." Jesus spoke up and said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "speak."  "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?" Simon answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt." And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly." Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little." Then he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?" And he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
---

Chris was the biggest kid in his kindergarten class. He was tall and thick, square-shouldered and heavy compared to his classmates. He was a sweet kid but a handful, And he always started to get a little tired and moody by the time the after-school program began.

Chris, as many young children do, had a strict sense of justice and fairness. Things were supposed to be black-and-white, and even, and everybody was supposed to get the same stuff. If other boys in the after-school program were playing the board game Trouble and they hadn’t yet given him a turn to play, he’d get angry, because he deserved a turn, too. At snack time, if everybody else got a whole, unblemished pretzel rod, then it wasn’t fair to give him two broken pieces, even if those pieces amounted to more food when you put them together.

And then there was the day that he was standing in line at the vending machine, to buy a can of juice. The boy in front of him put in his dollar, hit the button, and in a moment of lucky malfunctioning, they machine dropped two cans into the drawer instead of one. Excited, Chris put his dollar in next, and hit the button...and only one can came out. No matter that the machine was only supposed to give you one can. The machine had given his friend two cans, and it just wasn’t fair. That might have been Chris’s biggest meltdown all year.

But it’s nothing compared to the meltdown that Ahab has in our first reading. He, too, is bent on getting what he wants, and getting what he thinks is fair, and he throws one heck of a tempter tantrum when things don’t go his way.

He wants this piece of land owned by a man named Naboth. This isn’t just any piece of land. It is fertile, and rich, and right in Ahab’s backyard. Ahab really really wants this land. He’s really excited to plant a vegetable garden there. So he offers Naboth fair compensation for it. He'll give him a better vineyard somewhere else, or cash if Naboth would prefer. And Ahab completely expects Naboth to sell. Because hey, he's offering him a really good deal!

But Naboth doesn’t want to sell, and it has nothing to do with money. His land isn’t just beautiful and fertile, it is also a place of blessing and ancestry. The name of the land, Jezreel, literally means, “God planted,” and Naboth isn’t about to give it up. So Ahab stomps off, angry and sullen. He throws himself on his bed like a petulant child, turning his face to the wall, refusing to eat.

Then Jezebel walks in, and says "What kind of a king are you, anyway?" and, God save her, takes matters into her own hand. She uses Ahab's power to forcibly take the land, because hey, he's the all-powerful king, and he can get whatever he wants, and it's Naboth's fault for not accepting the good deal in the first place.

Can you find yourself in this story? I know that I can. Pouting when we don't get what we want? Check. Getting angry when we don't get what we think we fairly deserve? Check. Believing that we should always be able to find a way to make things go our way? Check. Exploiting our own corners of power, big or small, to stack the deck in our favor? Check.

The human inclination is to act as Ahabs and Jezebels, demanding that things live up to our own desires. The human inclination is to put God on the side of what we think we deserve.

This is why God sends prophets like Elijah to give us the pesky news that God isn't in the business of getting you what you want and God is definitely not in the business of coddling the rich and the powerful. God is in the business of divine justice, of righting the world, of lifting up the poor and lowly and raising the stooped shoulders of the broken and sinful.

This is the heart of the conflict in today's Gospel reading. When Simon gets angry about the woman who burst into his house, it's not because she interrupted his VIP dinner or because she bucked social convention about how women were to act around men in polite society. No, the thing that really gets Simon's goat is that this woman is a sinner, and how dare Jesus show her love and forgiveness! God's favor was reserved for the faithful and the respectable, those who were deserving of it! How could this Jesus claim to forgive her sins and then treat her with the same honor as the truly respectable company around the table? It simply isn't fair.

So Jesus asks Simon, "If there were a money lender who was owed debts by two different people, and one of those debts was a matter of lunch money, while the other of those debts was a matter of a year's salary, and he forgave them both their debts, cancelling what they owed, which would be more grateful?"

And Simon, channeling the petulence of Ahab, rolls his eyes and says with a sigh, "I suppose the one with the larger debt."

"Then," Jesus says, "since her sins, which were many, are forgiven, she has shown much love."

The very core of the prophetic message spoken by Elijah and Jesus today is that God doesn't care a lick about what is "fair." God cares about being lavish with mercy and forgiveness, and being overwhelmingly concerned for the plight of those who are weak or tired or powerless; especially all of us sinners. We, who at one time were weighed down by sin and death, have been forgiven much through Christ, not because we deserve it, but because God is gracious. And so, just like the woman washing Jesus' feet, out of our forgiveness we are called to love and love much in our world; to be prophetic voices that proclaim God's upside-down, generous brand of justice.

The author N.T. Wright, in a recent interview, said, "The point of justice and mercy...is not ‘they deserve it’ but ‘this is the way God’s world should be’, and we are called to do those things that truly anticipate the way God’s world WILL be."

And so we are called to be prophets in our own world, speaking and acting out the way that God's world should and will be. We are called challenge our human inclination toward retribution. We are called to challenge our world's systems of power and reward. We are called to pursue relentless compassion. We are called to live with less so that those in need can live with more. We are called to be generous, both in material and in mercy. We are called not merely to be "fair," but to be symbols of hope for God's deep, divine justice, which raises up the weak and liberates the oppressed.

As theologian Jurgen Moltmann says, "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" (Theology of Hope).

May the rich unfairness of God's love and forgiveness cause you to live with hope, each and every day. May you grow ever more deeply dissatisfied with reality as it is. May your heart be made restless by the peace of Christ. And may you find your own prophetic voice, to speak mercy and compassion into this unfulfilled present, drawing our world ever-closer to God's perfect, promised future.