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.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10:1-11, 16-20)
It seems simple enough. Begin with a prayer that others will join you in your ministry. Work in teams. Don’t get bogged down by stuff. You need to be free to move around. Offer God’s blessing. Offer God’s healing. Preach the Kingdom. Accept the material assistance that you need, but demand nothing more. Don’t bully anyone and don’t go where you aren’t welcome. Do not succumb to the belief that any of this is your doing. This is how, little by little, town by town, evil will be conquered and the Kingdom of God will be established. It seems that Jesus’ little seminary formation program laid out in Luke 10 ought to be easy enough to follow and yet failures abound.
Every day the news is filled with reports about the abuse of power and authority. Christian ministers have never been immune to this temptation. Money, fame, power, even on a small scale, work their woe among church leaders. And without wanting to suggest a great left wing conspiracy against religion in the media, there is certainly some gloating going on when religious leaders, particularly those on the right, are caught doing something wrong. As for most Christians, we feel some anger but mostly sadness when those religious leaders in whom we have put our trust, disappoint us. We are all too aware of the power of sin in the lives of our ministers and leaders and yet, except for the most cynical among us, we expect something better. For better or worse, we hold them to a higher standard.
Suppose though, that Jesus’ teaching on ministry isn’t just for ordained or professional ministers. What if what Jesus is talking about is really about discipleship and is addressed to all the baptized? Perhaps that higher standard to which we hold religious professionals was really a standard by which we should measure ourselves. I believe that in Jesus’ address to the seventy we find a key to living the Christian life that is available to everyone and which has the potential to change not only individual lives, but the whole world. Pray, work together, live simply, preach the Kingdom in word and deed and recognize that all you do and achieve is ultimately God’s grace at work in and through you.
Every day the news is filled with reports about the abuse of power and authority. Christian ministers have never been immune to this temptation. Money, fame, power, even on a small scale, work their woe among church leaders. And without wanting to suggest a great left wing conspiracy against religion in the media, there is certainly some gloating going on when religious leaders, particularly those on the right, are caught doing something wrong. As for most Christians, we feel some anger but mostly sadness when those religious leaders in whom we have put our trust, disappoint us. We are all too aware of the power of sin in the lives of our ministers and leaders and yet, except for the most cynical among us, we expect something better. For better or worse, we hold them to a higher standard.
Suppose though, that Jesus’ teaching on ministry isn’t just for ordained or professional ministers. What if what Jesus is talking about is really about discipleship and is addressed to all the baptized? Perhaps that higher standard to which we hold religious professionals was really a standard by which we should measure ourselves. I believe that in Jesus’ address to the seventy we find a key to living the Christian life that is available to everyone and which has the potential to change not only individual lives, but the whole world. Pray, work together, live simply, preach the Kingdom in word and deed and recognize that all you do and achieve is ultimately God’s grace at work in and through you.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 9:51-62)
In saying that Jesus had set his face to go to Jerusalem, the evangelist isn’t talking about just any trip to the holy city. Jesus has set his face on the cross. Many saints and theologians have suggested that the Gospels should be read through the lens of the cross. How much more so, then, these few passages on evangelism and discipleship which have been placed by the Gospel writer within the context of this journey?
At the risk of skating on some very thin ice, I would like to suggest some parallels between verses in this Gospel lesson and verses in Luke’s passion narrative. First there is Jesus’ unwillingness to deal harshly with the Samaritans who reject him. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Then there is Jesus’ response, first concerning the lack of a place for him to lay his head, and, secondly, his reference to the burial of the dead. “Then he (Joseph of Arimathea) took it (the body of Jesus) down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” And finally there are Jesus’ words to the would-be disciple who wants to say goodbye to his family. ” Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
The purpose of this little exercise is neither to be clever nor play fast and loose with the text. It is, rather, to make an important point. The way of Christian discipleship and evangelization is the way of the cross. The disciple/evangelist must expect rejection, poverty, alienation from family and friends, and, yes, perhaps even death. And in spite of this, he or she must embrace the call with determination and faithfulness. This is indeed a far cry from the so-called “prosperity gospel”.
At the risk of skating on some very thin ice, I would like to suggest some parallels between verses in this Gospel lesson and verses in Luke’s passion narrative. First there is Jesus’ unwillingness to deal harshly with the Samaritans who reject him. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Then there is Jesus’ response, first concerning the lack of a place for him to lay his head, and, secondly, his reference to the burial of the dead. “Then he (Joseph of Arimathea) took it (the body of Jesus) down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” And finally there are Jesus’ words to the would-be disciple who wants to say goodbye to his family. ” Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
The purpose of this little exercise is neither to be clever nor play fast and loose with the text. It is, rather, to make an important point. The way of Christian discipleship and evangelization is the way of the cross. The disciple/evangelist must expect rejection, poverty, alienation from family and friends, and, yes, perhaps even death. And in spite of this, he or she must embrace the call with determination and faithfulness. This is indeed a far cry from the so-called “prosperity gospel”.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 8:26-39)
So what it is that these folks were so afraid of? You might think that having someone around who could cure demonic possession would be thought of as a good think. But for the Gerasenes, not so much.
Tallahassee, like most cities in the U. S., has its share of homeless folks. Many of these people are possessed by the “demons” of mental illness and addiction. If someone could come along and “cure” this problem, wouldn’t we all be happy about that? I would have thought the answer would be an automatic “yes” but, after paying closer attention to the Gerasenes in this reading, I am not so sure anymore.
The real “demon” in the country of the Gerasenes was a fear of change. If Jesus could, in fact, heal people like this demoniac, then the world as they understood it was being turned on its side. If Jesus were to stick around town, what other changes might he make? More importantly, what demands would these changes make on the Gerasenes understandings of themselves as individuals and as a community? What demands would these changes make on their understanding of God?
Every Sunday, we (us) gather and, among other things, pray for the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill and all in any need (them). What if God were to suddenly answer our prayer in some dramatic way and a profound and permanent change was to happen in the lives of all the “them” we pray for? If they were to become healthy, self-sufficient, contributing members of a society, is it possible that we might lose our sense of privilege and blessedness? “There but for the grace of God go I” we say to ourselves as we hand over the spare change in our pockets. “God has really blessed me” we say as we deposit our pay check in the bank. Though we intend them as expressions of gratitude, they assume that the addict is not graced and that the panhandler is not blessed. Who are we to make such an assumption, particularly in the light of the Beatitudes?
Having people like the Gerasene demoniac around keeps us comfortable in our own sense of blessedness and, dare I say it, sense of entitlement. There might even be a secret little pleasure we feel in the guilt we experience when we think we have not done enough for the “them”. Most importantly, we cherish the safety we feel in the assurance that while our lives are not perfect, we’re better off than a lot of people. Maybe those Gerasene folks were right and it is better if Jesus stays away after all.
There is security for the “us” in having a “them”. This security is made manifest in our stubborn insistence that we are in charge of our life and that our health and prosperity are the result of something that we have done or, even better, something we deserve. We are also free to ignore the demons that haunt our lives. The Geresene demoniac was utterly dependent on the mercy of God given to him through Jesus. He had no resources of his own. He was, as the evangelist tells us, naked.
The truth is, we all stand naked before God in utter dependence. We desperately need Jesus to stand in our midst and tell us the truth about ourselves. It is only when we have known at the core of our being how much God has done for us in Jesus Christ that we can become the evangelists that we are called to be in baptism. We can join this healed man in proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus has done for us.
Tallahassee, like most cities in the U. S., has its share of homeless folks. Many of these people are possessed by the “demons” of mental illness and addiction. If someone could come along and “cure” this problem, wouldn’t we all be happy about that? I would have thought the answer would be an automatic “yes” but, after paying closer attention to the Gerasenes in this reading, I am not so sure anymore.
The real “demon” in the country of the Gerasenes was a fear of change. If Jesus could, in fact, heal people like this demoniac, then the world as they understood it was being turned on its side. If Jesus were to stick around town, what other changes might he make? More importantly, what demands would these changes make on the Gerasenes understandings of themselves as individuals and as a community? What demands would these changes make on their understanding of God?
Every Sunday, we (us) gather and, among other things, pray for the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill and all in any need (them). What if God were to suddenly answer our prayer in some dramatic way and a profound and permanent change was to happen in the lives of all the “them” we pray for? If they were to become healthy, self-sufficient, contributing members of a society, is it possible that we might lose our sense of privilege and blessedness? “There but for the grace of God go I” we say to ourselves as we hand over the spare change in our pockets. “God has really blessed me” we say as we deposit our pay check in the bank. Though we intend them as expressions of gratitude, they assume that the addict is not graced and that the panhandler is not blessed. Who are we to make such an assumption, particularly in the light of the Beatitudes?
Having people like the Gerasene demoniac around keeps us comfortable in our own sense of blessedness and, dare I say it, sense of entitlement. There might even be a secret little pleasure we feel in the guilt we experience when we think we have not done enough for the “them”. Most importantly, we cherish the safety we feel in the assurance that while our lives are not perfect, we’re better off than a lot of people. Maybe those Gerasene folks were right and it is better if Jesus stays away after all.
There is security for the “us” in having a “them”. This security is made manifest in our stubborn insistence that we are in charge of our life and that our health and prosperity are the result of something that we have done or, even better, something we deserve. We are also free to ignore the demons that haunt our lives. The Geresene demoniac was utterly dependent on the mercy of God given to him through Jesus. He had no resources of his own. He was, as the evangelist tells us, naked.
The truth is, we all stand naked before God in utter dependence. We desperately need Jesus to stand in our midst and tell us the truth about ourselves. It is only when we have known at the core of our being how much God has done for us in Jesus Christ that we can become the evangelists that we are called to be in baptism. We can join this healed man in proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus has done for us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)