10th Sunday After Pentecost – Year C (Luke 12: 13-21)

I don’t think that this parable is really about wealth vs. poverty (although Luke/Acts as a whole certainly exhibits what Pope Paul VI called a “preferential option for the poor”.) The text is not even really about hoarding or even financial planning for that matter.



Notice that upon his death, the wealthy man is called a fool by God. In the Hebrew Scriptures, a fool is not a person without intelligence but someone who consistently fails to understand. At the end of this parable, Jesus implies that wisdom (the opposite of foolishness) is to be found in being “rich toward God”.


So what then does being “rich toward God” actually mean? One might see the parable as a suggestion that individuals should be concerned about collecting good works rather than possessions. No one is against the doing of good deeds, especially as they relate to assisting the poor, but I don’t believe that to be Jesus’ point. On the contrary, the parable seems to be a lesson about the futility of storing up anything, even good deeds. Being “rich toward God” then is the opposite of possessing. It is the recognition of our complete and utter dependency on God for not only life and sustenance, but for the ability to do or achieve anything good. The Psalmist says that the fear of the Lord is the first stage of wisdom. Fear of the Lord is the acknowledgment that God is God and that I am not, the acknowledgment of complete dependence.


All that having been said, there are financial implications to the parable. The wisdom of dependence allows for a freedom to be generous. If all is gift then no individual has final claim on anything. The gift of manna in the dessert was for the needs of the day and not a commodity to be stored or traded. In last week’s Gospel Jesus instructed the disciples to pray for their “daily” bread, no a life-time supply. We have earned nothing, not our possessions nor our salvation.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 11:1-13)

I know that this Gospel passage is most often read and preached as a message of hope. Upon serious reflection, however, it can be hard to take. Most of us have had the experience of asking and not receiving, searching and not finding, knocking and not having the door opened. There are three traditional pious responses to that situation. The first is that God has responded to our prayer, only in ways that we are not faithful enough, smart enough, and/or good enough to understand. The second is that, because we are not faithful, smart, or good enough, we have failed to ask for the correct thing, knock on the correct door or search for what is truly good for us. Finally, there is the notion that we have simply not been persistent enough. Unfortunately, none of those answers is particularly helpful to the person experiencing God’s apparent deafness.


Writers and preachers do their fellow Christians a disservice when they present this particular teaching and others like it, as a simple formula for answered prayer. The grieving parents who just lost a child to cancer should not have to contend with hearing that God knows better. The backsliding addict isn’t helped to hear that he or she has just not prayed hard enough. The lonely old person tired of living but afraid to die, finds no solace in the suggestion that their prayer for companionship is somehow misguided.

This is in no way to suggest that God does not, in fact, know better or that we pray hard enough or that our requests are not sometimes misguided. We are weak and sinful people. This is all the more reason, though, why the entire burden can’t be placed on the person asking, knocking or seeking. There are things for which God must give an account! Having been given this teaching by Jesus, we have a right.

Easy answers fill pews. When push comes to shove, however, and the easy answers fail to satisfy, the church has an obligation to be the place where it is O.K. to wrestle with God. Perhaps that is the ultimate meaning of this teaching. Asking, knocking, searching, pestering – these are not passive verbs. We must actively enter into the struggle and mystery of God’s provident love.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10:38-42)

     In the past, the story of Martha and Mary was often seen in Roman Catholic exegesis as a biblical rationale for the contemplative life. That approach to the text largely disappeared after Vatican II because of its failure to do justice to the story. I have not travelled in Lutheran circles long enough to have heard very many polemical sermons about faith vs. works but could see how someone might want to take this story in that direction. That line of reasoning also, I think, fails to get to the heart of the story.

     It might well be that someone reading this could just as validly dismiss my approach, but I think it has some value and that analysis of this pericope as well as the whole of Luke/Acts lends some support to what I am thinking. It seems abundantly clear to me as I read and pray over this text that it is, at least in part, about the role of women in the Church. Education, religious or otherwise, was for men. For a woman to sit as a disciple (a learner or student) at the feet of a teacher was a radical move. Jesus not only allows it, he defends and encourages it.
     As I have written before in this blog, the Magnificat is Luke’s manifesto. The hymn’s concern for women, the poor and other outsiders is echoed throughout Luke/Acts. In this particular Lucan text, Jesus makes it clear that discipleship is open to all, regardless of gender. Jesus does not disdain Martha’s more traditional approach to a woman’s role as hostess, but he clearly indicates that all such societally defined roles, for men and for women, are now subject to the demands of God’s reign and that discipleship takes precedence. Discipleship is not an exclusive club, but rather a call to follow Jesus that is issued to everyone.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10: 25-37)

Most contemporary preaching on the Parable of the Good Samaritan focuses on the need for a more expansive definition of neighbor. Depending on the context, we have been challenged to include people of color, GLBT folks, people with HIV/AIDs, or some other ostracized group de jour in our understanding of who the neighbor is. I suspect in the current political climate, illegal immigrants will feature prominently in this Sunday’s homilies. This is not a bad thing. As a member of one of these groups, I have directly benefited from the fact that many more Christians now consider me a neighbor to be loved than did twenty years ago. Still, I can’t help but think that even with this ever expanding view of neighbor we are still doing what Luke tells us the lawyer was doing, seeking to justify ourselves.

Now that most of us have got the neighbor thing down, what really needs expanding is not our definition of who we need to love but our understanding of what it means to love. I find myself struggling with the following questions. Perhaps you do to.

1. I am happy to help feed the hungry, but do I have to eat with them?

2. I contribute money to the local homeless shelter, but what about that extra bedroom in my house?

3. I want to give money to the person who is obviously down on their luck, but don’t want to enable the alcoholic or drug addict. What do I do?

4. What does so called “tough love” have to do with God’s love?

5. How can we love our country’s enemies and still maintain security?

Like the lawyer in the story, I want Jesus to answer my questions in such a way that I feel justified. Unfortunately, there is no evidence in the parable (or anywhere else in the Gospels, for that matter) that Jesus is going to opt for the easy answers that soothe my conscience and allow me to sleep at night.

All most of us can do is recognize the fact that we cannot, in fact, justify ourselves. Our love is too small. Our efforts are too halfhearted. We are utterly dependent on God’s mercy even as we pray for the grace of expanded hearts.