Lectionary Readings for Sunday, November 11, 2007
Haggai 1:15b-2:9 with Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21 or Psalm 98 or
Job 19:23-27a with Psalm 17:1-9 and
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17 and
Luke 20:27-38
Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us.
It is a word of blessing.
It has the easy and assuring cadence of a benediction that sums up the sermon, the prayers, the liturgy, the music, the tears and the laughter of congregants before sending them forth to live their lives.
Like all blessings it is marked by connection, wrapped in hope and speaks of coherence, assuring us that there is a purpose in life, that meaning can be found, that chaos has met its match when we stand fast, give thanks, and trust in life.
Paul's words to the congregation in Thessalonia could not be more heart-felt:
But we must always give thanks to God for you, brothers and sisters beloved by the Lord, because God chose you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and through belief in the truth. For this purpose he called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by our letter.
Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word.
Note how beautifully life speaks.
We give thanks. The construction is plural. We, in our families, in our churches, in our networks of friends, we give thanks.
We give thanks to you, once again the construction is plural, addressed to brothers and sisters.
We are beloved by the Lord, God reaches out to us, once again the plural is embraced because God embraced us.
We have been called according to a purpose. There is order and meaning in nothing less than creation itself.
We have been asked to act by standing firm in the teachings that keep life alive in both what we say and in what we do.
Is there anything more beautiful than the opening of a church doors on a Sunday morning? I think not. The church is quiet, one person comes in, then two, then six, then soon the stillness of a quiet sanctuary fills with a wave of gentle conversation. We are gathered, we are met, we are waiting to renew our lives once again.
We know there are many who carry heavy burdens, and we know that we do not know what they all are.
I reflect on this week's accidental conversations as I rode the train across Montana and North Dakota before arriving at my destination here in Wisconsin. They were the conversations of life:
A man from Mississippi who works on an oilrig off the coast of Angola says he is not surprised at all that nooses have made an unwelcome appearance. "They've never gone away," he says. What "should be" is not, and what "should not be" is.
A mother whose daughter struggles through addiction and has yet to find a lasting serenity can't help but cry as she also knows what "should be" is "not yet."
A woman whose father has wondered if a radiation treatment is worth it as she wonders how to be a loving daughter from so very far away.
A kid, maybe 20 or so, who graduated from boot camp, not the army or the marines but the prison's boot camp and says he is "done with drugs" as he orders two beers at ten in the morning and downs them beside me as the train makes its way down the Mississippi River.
These are the conversations of your church. These are the conversations of people whose lives are emerging with awareness that there is no room for pretend. If there is to be a blessing it must meet the hard reality of two green bottles, a noose, cancer cells that have yet to take no for an answer, and addictions that speak of death rather than life.
A kind word is good.
But a blessing is better.
Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word.
We rely not on an ethereal presence but on Jesus Christ (the one who helps, the name means) himself.
And if such a presence cannot be discerned, or has faded away or been eclipsed by circumstance, then God who took action and first loved us.
We rely on a blessing that gives strength (com . . . fort) to our hearts, the seat of discernment that gives us courage as we speak and as we act to begin our lives anew.
There is no pretend here.
There is no pretend in your congregation either as you speak or as you share a word of life. It is all a matter of blessing that can only come from others. We cannot bless ourselves, but we can bless each other and recognize that once, long ago, and perhaps again this very sabbath, we are blessed by the love of God, one of whose names in Hebrew is LIFE.
If I may I end with a personal note. It was November 11 that my first life came to an end as a stroke washed away the billions of cells that once said, "This is who you are." Those who remain have asked, "And who are you to be?" And so, Paul's words apply to the boot camp kid beside me, the mother across from me, the father weighing his life, and to me with a poignancy that can only be born from the crucible of experience.
Blessings to you and thanks be to God for the privilege of conversation that will surely arise in the life of your church and aboard tonight's train bound for Montana.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
Larry@Leadingcausesoflife.org
or
Larrypray@gmail.com
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, November 4, 2007
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, November 4, 2007
Proper 26, Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4 with Psalm 119:137-144 or
Isaiah 1:10-18 with Psalm 32:1-7 and
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12 and
Luke 19:1-10
Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us.
This week it is a word of healing. If there is a common ground that connects all scripture it surely must be healing. We heal from slavery, we heal from rebellion, we heal from an exile that might well have destroyed our soul, and we seek healing when circumstance does its level best to break us. Over and over again we heal as individuals, as churches and temples, as a people.
The need for healing does not, and cannot, disguise itself.
“Look at the proud!” Writes Habakkuk in his unforgettable three chapters.
“Their spirit is not right in them,
but the righteous live by their faith.”
When the spirit is not right within us it is time for healing to happen. And how does healing happen? We move towards it, summoning the courage to act. We connect with others: sometimes a nurse, sometimes a neighbor, sometimes a physician, sometimes our conscience and sometimes, Jesus. So it was with Zacchaeus.
Luke 19:1-10
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax-collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’ So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’ Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, ‘Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.’
Over the last month or so we have caught the cadences of Luke's ironic reversals. The publican turns out to show us the path to authentic prayer. The Samaritan leper shows us the exuberant joy of gratitude. Rich man Dives showed us what happens when we fail to notice what's happening around us. And today we find a curious Zacchaeus climbing the same kind of tree that the prophet Amos once dressed in order to see the Jesus he had undoubtedly heard so many rumors about. We find life speaking on all sides. A crowd and a chief tax-collector are all searching for “something.” Perhaps the crowd wanted deliverance from injustice. Perhaps a politically savvy Zacchaeus wanted to crowd to see he wasn't as bad as they thought he was, that he was interested in their interests. We do not know the motivations. But we do know setting the spirit right was the draw for Zacchaeus, the crowd and Jesus.
The spirit cannot be set right unless three things happen:
Zacchaeus must come down from the tree and dine with Jesus. In a very small church I once asked one of the elders, “What do you think is going to help this church grow?” She answered in one word. “Food.” It is no wonder churches often have not one, but two or three kitchens, that office buildings have a cafeteria, an arcade of food shops, and a coffee area complete with a refrigerator and well-stocked cupboards. And it is no wonder the sacrament involves the breaking and sharing of bread and wine. Connection has a way of giving life. Zacchaeus had to reconnect with the crowd, connect with Jesus and then connect with those he had fleeced over the years.
The second thing is just as clear. The crowd's murmuring needed to subside if they were to recognize the depth of Jesus' connection with all of the children of Abraham. Coherence is a tricky and somewhat elusive cause of life. By its very nature it unites us. But, by its very nature it can turn “our group” into a grumbler about “your group.” If the mumbling does not subside, the encounter with Zacchaeus, and the crowd's curiosity about Jesus will be no more than a momentary event.
And that leads us to the third. There must be restorative justice. What will it take to set the spirit right within us? It requires the presence of the Son of Man. Without Jesus we have a treed tax collector who knows all is not well within his soul; and a grumbling crowd. Not much to build on there. With Jesus we have broken bread with a son of Abraham and rejoiced that one who was lost is found.
The implications for us are guaranteed.
To the parishioner who finds your sermon unpalatable, we say, “I must dine with you today.”
To ourselves, “What must I restore?”
To our congregation, “With whom must we connect if the spirit is to be right within us and well with the world.
Larry
Proper 26, Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4 with Psalm 119:137-144 or
Isaiah 1:10-18 with Psalm 32:1-7 and
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12 and
Luke 19:1-10
Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us.
This week it is a word of healing. If there is a common ground that connects all scripture it surely must be healing. We heal from slavery, we heal from rebellion, we heal from an exile that might well have destroyed our soul, and we seek healing when circumstance does its level best to break us. Over and over again we heal as individuals, as churches and temples, as a people.
The need for healing does not, and cannot, disguise itself.
“Look at the proud!” Writes Habakkuk in his unforgettable three chapters.
“Their spirit is not right in them,
but the righteous live by their faith.”
When the spirit is not right within us it is time for healing to happen. And how does healing happen? We move towards it, summoning the courage to act. We connect with others: sometimes a nurse, sometimes a neighbor, sometimes a physician, sometimes our conscience and sometimes, Jesus. So it was with Zacchaeus.
Luke 19:1-10
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax-collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’ So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’ Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, ‘Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.’
Over the last month or so we have caught the cadences of Luke's ironic reversals. The publican turns out to show us the path to authentic prayer. The Samaritan leper shows us the exuberant joy of gratitude. Rich man Dives showed us what happens when we fail to notice what's happening around us. And today we find a curious Zacchaeus climbing the same kind of tree that the prophet Amos once dressed in order to see the Jesus he had undoubtedly heard so many rumors about. We find life speaking on all sides. A crowd and a chief tax-collector are all searching for “something.” Perhaps the crowd wanted deliverance from injustice. Perhaps a politically savvy Zacchaeus wanted to crowd to see he wasn't as bad as they thought he was, that he was interested in their interests. We do not know the motivations. But we do know setting the spirit right was the draw for Zacchaeus, the crowd and Jesus.
The spirit cannot be set right unless three things happen:
Zacchaeus must come down from the tree and dine with Jesus. In a very small church I once asked one of the elders, “What do you think is going to help this church grow?” She answered in one word. “Food.” It is no wonder churches often have not one, but two or three kitchens, that office buildings have a cafeteria, an arcade of food shops, and a coffee area complete with a refrigerator and well-stocked cupboards. And it is no wonder the sacrament involves the breaking and sharing of bread and wine. Connection has a way of giving life. Zacchaeus had to reconnect with the crowd, connect with Jesus and then connect with those he had fleeced over the years.
The second thing is just as clear. The crowd's murmuring needed to subside if they were to recognize the depth of Jesus' connection with all of the children of Abraham. Coherence is a tricky and somewhat elusive cause of life. By its very nature it unites us. But, by its very nature it can turn “our group” into a grumbler about “your group.” If the mumbling does not subside, the encounter with Zacchaeus, and the crowd's curiosity about Jesus will be no more than a momentary event.
And that leads us to the third. There must be restorative justice. What will it take to set the spirit right within us? It requires the presence of the Son of Man. Without Jesus we have a treed tax collector who knows all is not well within his soul; and a grumbling crowd. Not much to build on there. With Jesus we have broken bread with a son of Abraham and rejoiced that one who was lost is found.
The implications for us are guaranteed.
To the parishioner who finds your sermon unpalatable, we say, “I must dine with you today.”
To ourselves, “What must I restore?”
To our congregation, “With whom must we connect if the spirit is to be right within us and well with the world.
Larry
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