Lectionary readings for September 2, 2007

Lectionary readings for September 2, 2007
Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jeremiah 2:4-13 with Psalm 81:1, 10-16 or
Sirach 10:12-18 with Psalm 112 and
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16 and
Luke 14:1, 7-14

Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us.
Each week these two thoughts prompt the words of this column.

When we produced one of the pod casts for the Leading Causes of Life we realized it was intended to be more of an invitation than a presentation. The invitation asked us to remember and learn from experiences that revealed the depth of connections, the presence of coherence, the voice of hope, and the power of blessings in our lives. Scripture is also an invitation to remember. We read its words and instantly begin sorting through the flurry of memories that say, “That's true,” or, “I've experienced that,” or “What's the message.”

The building next door to my first church was once a Methodist church. A technology firm bought the sanctuary when the Methodists built a new facility. Most of the stained glass windows were still in place, but the pews and altar were replaced with tables, chairs and desks. The parking space nearest the door had a sign designating it for management. Churches sometimes have parking spaces reserved for “Clergy” just as hospitals do for “Doctors.” The CEO however, made a point of taking the most distant parking space he could find. To him walking through the rain and snow was a way to honor his employees, a way of embracing humility. He didn't talk about it; he didn't want his walk to be a “big deal.” It was an invitation, not a presentation. And it took to heart what Jesus teaches in this week's Gospel.

Luke 14:1, 7-14

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

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

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

If you are a pastor, I am sure that you, like me, are astonished at the sublime depth of quiet faith in the lives of your parishioners. We often complain about committees or circumstances, but beneath the troubled waters there is a depth of coherence that defies expectation.

Our church had one of the lead citizens of our town. When Ollie died our church was not big enough to seat all who would attend, so the congregation borrowed the Lutheran Church. (In Minnesota it's a fairly sure bet that the Lutherans have the largest sanctuaries!) Ollie had left specific instructions for his funeral.

There would be no eulogy.
There would be no telling of his successes.
There would be no list of accomplishments.
There would be no mentioning of his many honors.

Instead there was to be three things, and three things only:

Prayer, hymns, and scripture.

In his own way he took the words of Jesus were taken to heart. And once again they pierce our hearts. “What will they say about me?” we may have wondered. Ollie showed that a funeral is an invitation rather than a presentation. He made sure that life was the keynote speaker.

Life, of course, is big enough, wide enough, and deep enough to defy categories. W.E.B. DuBois eloquently pierced the conditionality of life when he wrote, “How does it feel to be a problem?” His question lingers in the arenas of race, class consciousness, and disability.

The poor have a problem. They cannot pay their bills. Invite them.
The crippled have a problem. They cannot keep up. Invite them.
The lame have a problem. They are dis-abled.
The blind have a problem. They cannot see and, in Jesus' day, must beg or be led around.

It was a long walk across the parking lot. But resisting privilege was a necessary journey.
It was an odd funeral when Life was the speaker.
It was a stunning call to action when Jesus recognized the presence of life in lives that were considered problems.

This week. . . life speaks to us again.

Soft walking,

Larry