The Circle Game: Sermon for Proper 13C

It’s funny—even if you don’t like math very much, we spend a lot of our time obsessing over numbers, from the moment of our birth, when eager parents start counting fingers and toes and other appendages to the number of birthdays we have had. Then there’s numbers about weight and height, which most of us also have a profound ambivalence about all our lives, either because they are too big or too small. Through childhood we long to be older, and somewhere around age 25 many of us want the aging thing to stop altogether.

In our economic lives, there are a lot of numbers we obsess over. For many people right now are deeply worried about inflation rates, which here in the US are currently at a gulp-inducing 9.1 percent. And that is bad, especially for older people on fixed incomes or people working at the bottom of the economic ladder. But this is not simply a national problem—and so if we look outside our own blinkered view, we see that a vast majority of the industrialized world is suffering from inflation—the UK’s rate is currently 9.4%, the European Union area is at 8.9%, Spain is at 10.8%, Brazil is at 11.89%, Russia is at 15.9%, Argentina is at 64%, and Turkey is at a whopping 78.62%. ANNUALLY. Yikes.

Same thing about the price of gasoline, which we Americans love to shriek about. However, we are actually quite blessed. At the start of July, the cost in the US was currently $1.30 per liter or $4.92 a gallon, and it has fallen since. Compare that to Canada, at $6.01 per gallon, Germany at $7.53, France at $8.59, the UK at 8.78, and the Netherlands at $9.61.

There’s even fascinating numbers about our spending habits. For instance, in 2021 the average American spent an estimated $2,130 a year on coffee, and $1,528 on the year’s cell phone bill.

Those are some astounding numbers. Then there are some fun numbers. 

I don’t know if you heard, but the Mega Millions lottery prize—which hadn’t had a winner since April 30 and apparently was finally won on Friday-- was at over $1.28 billion. BILLION. As in a thousand millions. And ONE ticket, sold just north of Chicago, had all the right numbers: 13, 36, 45, 57, 67 and a Mega Ball of 14. If the winner chooses a one-time cash payment they will receive $742 million dollars, otherwise it’s annual payments for the next few decades. The odds of winning are 302,575,350 to 1.

That’s a lot of numbers.

Even if you are normally a lottery agnostic, as many of us are, especially when we think about those odds, a lot of us like to have a little flutter when the pot gets that high. We daydream on what we might spend it on. But the fact is there is just no way you could spend that kind of money without almost killing yourself in the process.

Having lived in the smallest bedroom (WITH my Baby Sister) in a too-small house most growing up, it’s tempting to think about buying a bigger one, or buying one for your kids or for your mama. But then I remember something a wise man named George Carlin explained when I was a kid:

You got your stuff with you? I’ll bet you do. Guys have stuff in their pockets; women have stuff in their purses…. Stuff is important. You gotta take care of your stuff. You gotta have a place for your stuff. That’s what life is all about, tryin’ to find a place for your stuff! That’s all your house is; a place to keep your stuff. If you didn’t have so much stuff, you wouldn’t need a house. You could just walk around all the time.

 

A house is just a pile of stuff with a cover on it. You can see that when you’re taking off in an airplane. You look down and see all the little piles of stuff. Everybody’s got his own little pile of stuff.

 

So now you got a houseful of stuff. And, even though you might like your house, you gotta move. Gotta get a bigger house. Why? Too much stuff! And that means you gotta move all your stuff. Or maybe, put some of your stuff in storage. Storage! Imagine that. There’s a whole industry based on keepin’ an eye on other people’s stuff.(1)

Our readings this week warn about being more concerned about your stuff than about living a life with purpose.

Jesus does not always portray money as evil—look at how the Samaritan was willing to spend more than two full days’ wages tending to a helpless stranger a couple of weeks ago. The hoarding of money, however, he repeatedly condemns. And by the way, if you pay attention, parables with the phrase “rich man” in the Bible are almost ALWAYS criticizing not wealth, specifically, but a lack of support for the poor through the hoarding of resources by a very few.

There are numerous ways to use wealth for good—one of the easiest is using it to support your parish, your denomination, and various charities that are specifically engaged in trying to make the world a better place for all creatures great and small. But—and this is crucial in both Jesus’s time as well as our own current culture: Money can also be a way of lying to ourselves, telling ourselves that we are not dependent upon anyone but ourselves.

Take the rich fool in our parable. His love of money has cut him off from consideration of any other person, much less God. So he starts talking to himself. And even in his interior monologue, the rich fool only mentions himself. He uses the possessive pronoun repeatedly: “MY fruit, MY barn, MY goods, and even my SOUL.” 

Then who interrupts that interior monologue but God Godself, who calls the man a fool and declares that at this very night the man’s soul will be demanded of him. Once again here we get the language of debt, and it is GOD who is the creditor. We may hold our souls in life, but they are merely here on loan--they are God’s possession eternally. The rich fool has allowed his wealth to isolate him so much that the only person he has to lie to is himself. He has forgotten about anyone else and the obligations he bears to the world around him. He has also forgotten about God. 

This is far different from our discussion last week about a laborer praying for tomorrow’s bread today. That prayer is a prayer for enough. Especially on the heels of Jesus teaching us to pray for sustenance last week, this hoarding we see this week strikes a discordant note indeed. 

After all, the rich fool did not get this huge crop by himself—he has been blessed with fertile land and appropriate weather including rain. Note, in fact, that “the land produced abundantly.” Not the wealthy man. It is doubtful he did any of the labor to cause this huge crop, but far more likely others toiled for his profit while he is engaged in rumination on how to protect the treasure that has been handed to him.

One of the biggest practices Jesus sought to correct was an idea that one group of people was inherently better than another group of people simply by lofty ideas of one’s own personal purity. But holiness is not based on what you declare unclean, or lesser than, and then avoiding that thing. 

Holiness comes from what you give your heart to. Holiness comes from seeing yourself in a great interconnected circle with God and neighbor and dedicating yourself to the nourishing of good through seeing our obligations to others as blessings and opportunities to serve. Holiness comes from dedicating yourself to standing for others, and standing for God. Holiness comes not from greed, or miserliness, but through putting yourself at the service of empathy and love. It comes not from walling yourself off from the demands of love, but from embracing life and love with generosity and joy.

Holiness comes from giving your heart not to things, but to relationship with God and with each other. The rich fool has isolated himself from any consideration of others, and only thinks of himself. He prioritizes money and things over community, and over God. This is idolatry of the worst form.

Our lives are gifts. What we do with them should be a gift as well.

A week ago, the Newport Folk Festival was held in Newport, Rhode Island. This year’s festival was especially exciting, because for the first time in 20 years Joni Mitchell, a true songwriting and singing legend, was invited on stage by her young friend and fan Brandi Carlile, and actually performed a set. This is all the more remarkable because in 2015 Joni Mitchell suffered an aneurysm which nearly killed her and destroyed her ability to sing or play music. Through grit and dogged persistence--the same persistence that had helped her overcome being paralyzed with polio as a child--and through the love of a community of friends surrounding her, last week Joni Mitchell got up and sang some of her classic songs with help from a stage full of stars like Wynona Ryder and Marcus Mumford of Mumford and Sons. 

One of the songs that she sang was one that I loved as a child called The Circle Game. It talks about the changes a child goes through growing up from infancy to adulthood. 

There are numbers in this song: ten, sixteen, 20 years spin by, and the child learns about the world the entire time. And the chorus goes like this:

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look
Behind, from where we came
And go round and round and round, in the circle game.

Joni’s song is beautiful. But as I watched clips of her singing it, I saw the circle as something else—the circle of love and compassion that grounds us, centers us, and heals us when we have been told all hope is lost. I saw the circle as all of those people who she drew to herself with her beautiful songs, and who gathered over the years to help her heal and encourage her—many of them gathered with her on that stage.

As Christian disciples, we have a center to our circle—and that is Jesus. Jesus reminds us that what is important is not how much wealth or possessions we have, but how much we engage with putting what we have to use for the good of our friends, families, churches, neighbors, and communities. How much we look after the least of those around us. That’s where true richness lies.

Jesus calls us to see the Circle of God’s kingdom in our lives, and to make that our priority. To treasure each other, and to treasure what we can do to promote God’s kingdom, God’s justice, and God’s boundless compassion and mercy for those around us. To make the circle bigger and bigger until everyone is included.

Let your life, and your resources, build the circle of God, and watch the joy rise up in your life. That’s the greatest gift of all.

Readings:

Hosea 11:1-11
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
Colossians 3:1-11
Luke 12:13-21

Citations:

1) George Carlin, Monologue about "Stuff," at YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvgN5gCuLac 

2) Video from Newport Folk Festival, July 24. 2022.

The Stone of Witness: Speaking to the Soul, July 28, 2022

Joshua said to all the people,
“See, this stone shall be a witness against us;
for it has heard all the words of the Lord that he spoke to us… "- Joshua 24:27a

 

This pale stone from St. Columba’s Bay
had lain beneath pilgrim feet for a thousand years before
singing its way to my notice; its delicate web of
fine green tracings draws the eye into the stone, its heft
surprising for a marble-cool thumbprint. Glossy
and silky to the touch, it bears witness

to the caress of tides and the melancholy
wandering of saints. What prayers has it heard
from all who have passed this way—what prayers
can I whisper to it as it slides between my fingers?

Two billion years it tumbled
to the ebb and flow of windswept tide.
From its holy home it now resides
in my pocket most days, a traveler and thus a stranger,
honed by the caress of the sea.

 

And now I recognize the toddler wisdom
in filling one’s pockets
with treasures from the ground: they witness
to the loving embrace of this Earth
carrying us tenderly around the Sun, grounding us
in wonder and awe, bearing testimony
to the holiness arching up beneath our feet.

Praying from the Inside Out: Sermon for Proper 12C

(1)

You know, there are times when it is hard as a preacher to decide which text calls out to be preached.

This week is not one of those times.

I mean-- whew! Did you get a load of that passage from Hosea? Hmmm.... preach about a prophet being forced to make his life into performance art to make a point about his people's unfaithfulness-- and that word "whoredom" smacking us right in the face? No thank you.

Then, our epistle, and 15 years as a middle school teacher finding out that kids confused circumcision with sterilization tells me to back away from that one too. Nope.

So it was rather easy to settle on the gospel today, with its topic of prayer. Because I have found that, no matter how many times we talk about it, prayer is one of those things that can be very hard, and cannot be investigated enough. Because there's a lot of difficulty around prayer.

As I look over this pericope in 2022, I have to be honest: there are times that I just feel too tired, too worn out, too overwhelmed to pray. I may be exhausted, or feel spiritually dry. I’m not in the right headspace, or heart space. I don’t have the right attitude or discipline.

That’s why it is important to remember that we never pray alone. As disciples, the mere fact that we are here together in worship reminds us that prayer is a communal act. The fact that we Episcopalians speak of “common” prayer reminds us how foundational it is to always remember that our prayers join with others. To remember that our prayer with others includes everything from our opening words, through hymn singing, through hearing the word of God, through the prayers of the people, through sharing the peace with those who are visiting as well as those we know. Our common prayer continues through the Great Thanksgiving, in which we recount God’s saving help to humanity all throughout history; through sharing in the bread and wine; all the way through to the dismissal and then continues right out into the street and the rest of the week. 

All of that is prayer, and it is prayer done as a community.

Jesus doesn’t say we have to have any of the right attitudes, the right disciplines, the perfect words. I think of this prayer by St. Teresa:

Teach me, if Thou wilt, to pray:
If Thou wilt not, make me dry.
Give me love abundantly
Or unfruitful let me stay.
Sov’reign Master, I obey.
Peace I find not save with Thee.
What wilt Thou have done with me? (2)

So maybe we are brought up short when we want to pray, and so we look for a formula, which Jesus here provides. But Jesus teaches us here that to pray is to first acknowledge that God is God, and we are not. In other words, we start with praise. Praise that God is holy, from God’s very name outward. 

In fact, Jesus starts with reminding us that God is in intimate relationship with us. Jesus calls God Father, and we can too-- or Mother, or Friend, or Lover, or Beloved, or Creator. If any of those words has negative meaning for you, use another. Just remember that God loved you before you even knew the word "God." Jesus even points out that God always wants us to have good things, just like a loving parent wants to give their children eggs instead of snakes or scorpions.

And you know, I had an experience this week about that. I was getting into our pool, and just as I was getting ready to swim some laps suddenly saw something swim by and realized there was a snake in my pool. 

Let me tell you, I walked on water better than Peter ever did. I practically levitated outta that pool, and stood there gasping on the deck as this reptile took a victory lap in MY pool. And being the church nerd I am, I thought of this gospel passage and prayed for God to change that snake into an egg. But no such luck. I had to scoop the critter out myself and deposit him elsewhere. And sometimes our prayers remind us that we can't just ask God to perform magic tricks to get us out of confronting our fears and doing the dirty work. And after all, God loves that snake and much as God loves me.

Now, you will notice that the version we get here in Luke's gospel is pretty short, and has a lot of things missing that we are used to saying. And there are dozens if not hundreds of versions of this prayer just in the English language alone. I am convinced it s a good thing to occasional pray one of those other versions from time to time, and to sit down an examine the version we most often say, just to remind ourselves what is actually in there-- and what is not. To remind ourselves that words count.

The New Zealand Prayer Book (3), for instance, has an expansive version of the Lord’s Prayer, as one would expected from a province that seeks to reflect the cultures of three distinct groups of people. 

It has about 15-20 words just to take the place of that word "Father" that we get in our gospel. It even uses a trinitarian formation. I encourage you to look up this prayer and spend some time with it. Here's one thing that's interesting--How much of that prayer is praise? More than half of it. We get almost two-thirds of the way through that prayer before we ask God for anything. I think that is a wonderful reminder to us all, too, about prayer not just a wish-fulfillment.

Jesus reminds us that our purpose in following God is not to get God to do our bidding, but for us to surrender to God. One of the most beautiful hymns I still treasure from my childhood sitting next to my grandma in her Baptist church says it best:

All to Jesus I surrender, All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust him; In his presence daily live.
I surrender all--- I surrender all
All to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all. (4)

God’s kingdom coming means a time when we do not anesthetize ourselves to the suffering of others by clinging to a system that is designed to sort everything into a small category of winners and la large host of losers in various degrees. God’s kingdom is one where we don’t keep trying to get God to do our bidding, but we surrender with joy to God as our only sovereign, our Creator who continually calls us into living as if we really believed that we are made in the image of God—in the image of one whose wisdom and love sustains everything around us, throughout the universe and across time and space. God’s kingdom is built on our surrender, but it is joyful because, as this prayer teaches us, our entire lives are an edifice, either resilient or fragile. Our entire lives are an edifice, resilient and resplendent, if they rest upon trust in God.

For this prayer is a prayer of trust:

Trust that we have a real relationship with God. Trust that our relationship with God began before we even knew the word God, and that that relationship will continue even beyond our earthly lives.

Trust that God is our Maker, our Father, our Mother, Creator, Source, Friend, Lover-- the One who tenderly loves us each the best, whatever word that most means that to you. Think of it. Has anyone seen the images from the James Webb telescope the last few weeks? The marvels we can now see from this amazing universe made and sustained by God? And here's an even greater wonder: The same God who made each of those nebula and constellation and black hole looked around this amazing universe and decided the universe needs one of you just as badly. God loves us eternally-- and even plants the dust of stars within our bones and sinews.

We pray because we trust that God will sustain each of us. In giving us the bread we need today so that we may have strength tomorrow, that we may use that strength to help make God’s kingdom of love, mercy, justice and grace visible upon this beautiful Earth that, as our beloved, living home, sustains us and embraces us in each and every second of our lives.

Trust that God forgives us our sins. We may flinch at the thought of sitting down and really examining ourselves to see what sins we have committed, or supported with our silences. Or we may take account of our sins frequently, and feel the weight of guilt and shame. Yet, when we acknowledge that we have sinned, and determine to amend our lives and work to restore our relationships through honesty and responsibility, we find God’s forgiveness always there, cooling and soothing the parched walls of our shattered hearts.

And then notice what our translation says: Since we have been forgives our sins, we can forgive everyone indebted to us. What does it mean to consider a sin against us as a debt? I think this provides a precious insight into human nature. Don’t we consider that those who have hurt us owe us something—an apology, compensation, a period of grovelling? There’s a phrase that’s sometimes used when lauding someone who has done something heroic, like the delivery driver who ran into a burning home and rescured five children single-handedly. We often say we owe them a debt of gratitude. 

Reciprocally, if we trust in God as our ultimate home and heart, we can also use the gratitude we feel at God’s abundant grace to ourselves embody forgiveness and grace to others who have wronged us. We can pay off our debt of gratitude by paying that forgiveness forward. By doing so, we free ourselves from the chains or resentments and anger at the hurt we have endured, and we have once again taken seriously the obligation laid upon us by the blessing of being created in the image of God.

So why does Jesus have us end here in Luke’s version with praying not to be led to the time of trial? Well, if we have taken seriously the cataloguing of our sins and our clinging to old resentments and grievances, we already have a sneaking suspicion that a time of trial is something at which we most likely will fail. Just as we trust in God to give us the bread we need for today, we trust in God to not simply throw tests at us to see if we will pass or fail. One translation, the one that we pray at our main service each Sunday, actually asks God not to lead us into temptation. I always scoff at that line in my heart when we say it. Because if one thing is certain, it’s that we don’t need to God to lead us to temptation, we can find it just fine all on our own. See also the phrase: “The Devil Made Me Do It.” Thus, again here we are called to trust in God to offer us guidance and lead us aright when we ourselves wander into the quicksand.

Praying this prayer, then, is a prayer for strength to be soft where the world is hard,
To be strong enough to be forgiving and merciful where the world is merciless,
To be reflective of God’s abundant love and wisdom in a world that too often seeks to hit first rather than see the woundedness around each of us and offer good things rather than adding bad to bad, like offering a child a snake or a scorpion.

Praying as Jesus taught us is a reminder that there are actions which count as prayer, starting with listening. Sometimes, the best prayer of all is when we say nothing, but merely invite God into our hearts and into our lives. We don’t have to do all the talking.

Sometimes prayer is not merely in words at all. The beloved poet Mary Oliver started her poem “Six Recognitions of the Lord” with this observation:
“I know a lot of fancy words.
I tear them from my heart and my tongue.
Then I pray.”

Amen.

This was preached at the Saturday 505 Eucharist and the Sunday 10:30 Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Ellisville, MO, on July 23-24, 2022, the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost.

Readings:

Hosea 1:2-10
Psalm 85
Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)
Luke 11:1-13

Citations:

1) The Lord's Prayer in Catalan, wall hanging from La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, my photo.

2) St. Teresa of Jesus, Works of St. Teresa, Vol. 3, p. 280.

3) From A New Zealand Prayer Book: He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa.

4) Verse 1 of "I Surrender All," by Judson W. Van De Venter (1855-1939).

5) Image of the Southern Ring Nebula from the James Webb telescope, NASA/ESA found at https://time.com/6196675/five-james-webb-telescope-images-explained/

6) Mary Oliver, from Thirst, 2006.

Teach Us to Pry: Speaking to the Soul, July 21, 2022

Luke 11:1-13

Teach us to pray, they asked,
as the first evening star winked into view,
and the Teacher began:
Creator and Sustainer,
we center ourselves in your love,
remembering your gift of life to us. We place
ourselves within your tender embrace. Make us reverent
before the Holiness that sustains all that is,
and calls us Beloved.
                                Open
our hearts to the power of wisdom and compassion,
that the kingdom take root in each heart. We trust
your abundance is greater than our hunger;
we ask for today’s bread enough, and provision for
tomorrow. Nourish us
with your grace and forgiveness,
for we know our sins only too well.
                                Help us turn
away from sin
to a life of justice and pardon,
answering forgiveness’s gift with our own clemency,
that we may ourselves pour forth
that grace to those who have done us harm.
                              Show us the path
away from temptation, O Loving One, who
delivers us safely home,
whose reign and radiance and righteousness
are everlasting.

This was first published at Episcopal Journal and Cafe's Speaking to the Soul on July 21, 2022.

The Soul's Expression

With stammering lips and insufficient sound.
I strive and struggle to deliver right
That music of my nature, day and night
With dream and thought and feeling, interwound,
And inly answering all the senses round
With octaves of a mystic depth and height,
Which step out grandly to the infinite
From the dark edges of the sensual ground!
The song of soul I struggle to outwear
Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,
And utter all myself into the air:
But if I did it,-- as the thunder-roll
Braeks its own cloud,-- my flesh would perish there,
Before that dread apocalypse of soul.


--Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861), Romantic-era British poet, author, and activist, spouse of Robert Browning

The Prayer of Mary and Martha: Speaking to the Soul, July 14, 2022

Almighty God,
we ask that you bless our endeavors today.
May we sit at your feet
and drink in your wisdom, Blessed Teacher,
that we may ourselves be transformed as disciples
and follow in your Way.
May we also seek to serve others
with gratitude for the chance to care for those
who lead us in the ways of peace and justice.
Let us unite within ourselves
the desire to learn and the willingness to serve,
and uplift the examples of both Mary and Martha
in their work for the kingdom of God.
Give us Martha hands
and Mary hearts,
seeking to serve you
and be guided by your Word and Wisdom
opening our minds and spirits
to serve you however we can.
Unite within us knowledge and action,
for we know that work without learning
and learning without work gain nothing.
Let us proclaim your glory
in words and actions this day:
make us your hands
and your loving wisdom
in the world.
Amen.

This was first published at Episcopal Journal and Cafe's Speaking to the Soul July 14, 2022. 

Loving the Neighbor: Speaking to the Soul for July 7, 2022

Luke 10:25-37

But wanting to justify himself, the lawyer asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

He thought he was being clever, that lawyer. He wanted the teacher to explain to him the limitations of his obligation to others. So then Jesus told a story, as he was wont to do.

He chose his characters to shock, but not directly provoke—if he had wanted to do that, he would have made the two righteous passersby a judge and a lawyer. But Jesus wasn’t just speaking to the lawyer—he was speaking before a rapt crowd, and he had a point to make about the obligations that bind any community together. However, it was still shocking—the idea that a Samaritan, an outsider, one whose heritage and religion were impure in the eyes of good Jews—could also be “good” and do the compassionate and righteous thing.

We hear this story today and we don’t hear that tension in what was then the oxymoronic term of “Good Samaritan.” “Samaritan” in our understanding has become shorthand for a “do-gooder,” the same way we now misunderstand “prodigal” when we speak of the Prodigal Son. We also forget the risk that Samaritan was taking in caring for someone who, if conscious, might have treated him with contempt, merely because of a 700-year-old-feud.

The poet e.e. cummings captures the emotion from the perspective of the Samaritan in his wonderful poem “a man who had fallen among thieves,” which updates the story into modern times. He imagines a dozen “staunch and leal” citizens scurrying away from the man laying by the roadside, appalled by the gore of the scene—and their unvoiced contempt for the victim. But the narrator is moved to pity, despite himself, and acts to carry the man to safety:

Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror through
a million billion trillion stars.


As we hear the parable of the Good Samaritan today, though, we can look around and see the work of those who understand the universality of the definition of “neighbor” that Jesus is demanding of us. We see it every time bystanders leap into action against these episodes of gun violence that are more common than muggings on the road to Jericho. We unfortunately saw it on Monday, when “neighbors” identified and took care of the toddler left screaming in the streets of Highland Park, Illinois, a child orphaned in an instant when his parents died in yet another mass shooting. We see it in those who tried to shield others or help them get to safety as shots rang out to terrorize an entire community and an entire nation yet again—and on a day in which we celebrate our mutual connection as one nation, one community. Those who help each other in these times of extreme crisis don’t pause and think about the calculus of whether those who need aid are worthy or not, or members of our own community. They see a desperate need, they acknowledge their mutual obligation to confront suffering, and they respond, regardless.

Due to our uniquely American obsession with guns and violence, the question at the heart of Jesus’s 2,000-year-old parable is posed to each of us, daily, tragically. One can even wonder if the failure to ask ourselves the same question, and our failure to view each other through the lenses of mercy and compassion, lies at the heart of what makes these horrific events so commonplace. We speak so easily of rights, but shy away from mutuality or concepts of obligation that lie at the heart of community. The gospel is centered on this challenge to us.

Jesus makes it clear. Who is my neighbor?

Everyone.

This was first published at Episcopal Journal and Cafe's Speaking to the Soul on July 7, 2022.

The Heart of the Lamb: Sermon for Proper 9C

Last week, Jesus warned his followers that they needed to be ready to sacrifice their old lives if they wanted to follow him. Today we see him commissioning the seventy (two) followers to go out and help proclaim the Good News.

Jesus, we are told, is “intending to go” to Jerusalem, but visiting places throughout Galilee on the way (and from Galilee into Samaria, which is important to remember when we get to the story of the “Good” Samaritan in a couple of weeks). Jesus sends out his followers to prepare the way of the Lord. So he commissions 70, or 72, of his followers to go in his name first. This is a reminder that ministry and witness is not merely the work of professionals—all Christian disciples are called to help communicate the good news to a word that is starving for it. There certainly are field a-plenty awaiting the planting of a bountiful harvest.

As baptized Christians, we ALL act in persona Christi, in the person and place of Christ—not just those who are ordained. As Teresa of Avila famously insisted, Christ has no body now in the world but ours—no hands, no feet, no eyes to look with love on the world but ours. We ARE the Body of Christ.

And sure, witnessing to Christ makes disciples vulnerable. Even though many will reject the disciples, even more will hear and listen, thus the harvest is plentiful.

Perhaps Jesus sends them out so early so they will understand what the risks are of being disciples and witnesses. They will be exposed and vulnerable. They will have to depend upon the kindness of strangers. They will have to depend upon and trust God. They luckily will not be alone, but they may not be warmly welcomed. These things were difficult then, and they are difficult now—our society is not built to reinforce trust.

The risk they are taking is stark—they are not just sheep among wolves, but lambs-- babies who are defenseless.

Disciples, then and now, must rely upon others. Galilee and Samaria are hardly wealthy areas, so the hospitality they are given will hardly be lavish—but it therefore most certainly will be heartfelt. Those who are willing to share what they have when first asked do not deserve to be dishonored by their guests moving along when something better is offered to them, thus they are to stay put in the same place the entire time they are in a village.

The list of what they are NOT supposed to take is pretty long—especially in comparison to what they ARE to bring: peace, and healing. This is their Good News. And isn’t this what we see the world around us hungering for, even now?

First of all, peace. Even before they know anything about the house they’ve just entered or the beliefs of those living there. Peace that is shared. Peace that is more than peace—it’s shalom. It’s well-being, completeness, a greeting, a farewell, and everything in between. Peace, based on justice and mercy, takes a random group of strangers and forms them into community.

Their ministry, and ours, is one of healing and restoration, and announcing that the kingdom is already among the people we meet. This is the second part of our mutual proclamation.

Jesus offers an important bit of advice for all of us: if you are rejected, don’t take it personally. It’s really rejection of Jesus, and of his message. The image of shaking the dust off your sandals also carries with it some risk of misinterpretation. Almost every time I have heard someone quote use this image, they have used it to justify cutting someone off, as a harsh judgment, almost like saying “You are dead to me.” That type of sentiment implies that we can just give up on people who don’t agree with us, or who don’t immediately jump on our bandwagons. It means we can call it quits for today—but tomorrow, we go back and try again.

That is, after all, how the life of grace works. God never gives up on us, no matter how outrageous our failures, our vanities, our pride.

Here’s why I want to lodge a complaint with the organizers of the common lectionary at this point. Our pericope ends with Jesus telling the happy disciples to not be so happy about their success, but that their “names are written in heaven.” And sitting here in the 21st century, I for one feel like we have had more than enough of that kind of Christianity—the kind that says that belief in Jesus is all about saving yourself, rather than engaging with those around us, with caring for the vulnerable, including this beautiful Earth that is our only home. Nope. Just make sure you aren’t going to burn in hellfire for all eternity, and it’s all good, too many people say. That not the Way of a Lamb, either—it’s just the Way of the Wolf, gobbling up anything to fill up its own belly.

But the last word we hear is often one we remember, so here is my complaint—it is misleading. But listen to the next words, in vv. 21-24:

“At that very moment, Jesus overflowed with joy from the Holy Spirit and said, I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you've hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and shown them to babies. Indeed, Father, this brings you happiness. My Father has handed all things over to me. No one knows who the son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wants to reveal him.” Turning to the disciples, he said privately, “Happy are the eyes that see what you see. I assure you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see and hear what you hear, but they didn't.”

Jesus himself is overjoyed, we learn. So we, too, can be overjoyed when we share the good news of God’s kingdom with others—as long as we realize it is not to our credit but to our joy, an act of love and not of pride.

Perhaps these verses that were omitted today hold the key for what we can take away from the gospel section before us. Too often, we get wrapped up in arguments over arguing with those who don’t agree with us theologically. We start drawing swords over questions that are esoteric, we get distracted by details so that we love sight of the forest. We make things harder than they need to be. Our job is to speak God’s peace to those we encounter, to testify to the love of God for each of us, and for this world. We are sent out to heal, to reconcile, to restore what has been disordered with love and compassion, not self-righteousness or seeking glory for ourselves.

So what are we to do, as we spend this weekend celebrating independence, often while forgetting that the sacrifices and LOVE for each other that brought us here? Forgetting that freedom is a mockery when it is used to oppress others. Too many of the powerful are trying to convince us that we can be free through the exploitation of those around us.

But that’s the Way of the Wolf. Jesus calls us to be lambs, to bear with each other in justice, in gratitude, and in love. Lambs know that their security rests in staying united as one flock under one shepherd—and he is the Prince of Peace, not the God of the Belly.

Speaking peace in humble homes, living in gratitude, loving God and your neighbor even when everything about them makes you uncomfortable. As the prophet Micah summed it up: Do justice, Love mercy, Walk humbly with your God, who accompanies us at the first sign of our yes to God. These are the things that defeat the forces of evil in the world and promise us a new birth of freedom, liberty in love, and justice for all in word and deed.

This sermon was preached at the 505 on July 2 and the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Ellisville, MO.