Cocophonous noise or sweet jazz music: Luke 16:1-13

Scripture from today's sermon: http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearC_RCL/Pentecost/CProp20_RCL.html

Some say that Austin, Texas is the live music capital of the world. After spending three years there, I am inclined to believe this. It doesn’t matter where you go, what day of the week or what time of day it is there will be musicians performing throughout town. Experiencing so much live music, I learned a few things. For example, catching the warm up act at a rock show is a good thing as they might end up making it big. Also, if you are a student, you can get into the symphony for the money beneath your couch cushions. But not all the live music lessons I learned are good ones.

One time I walked into a jazz concert a little too early. I can remember listening to the different ensemble members tuning their instruments and thinking to myself, how in the heck is this going to come together? The guy on the saxophone was just blaring all by himself, and while other musicians appeared to be warming up all I could hear was the blasts of the sax. I feel like that this morning. We have four different lessons from Holy Scripture, but the one that sounds loud and off pitch is the Gospel reading. Yet, like the jazz musicians coming together, once we put these Holy Scripture in concert with one another they start to make a more harmonious sound. This morning’s scriptures possess a melody within them, but this theme is easy to miss over the gospel’s loud blasts. Let’s listen to the sweet music of all these lessons coming together.
First, in Amos: “Hear this, you that trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land… and practice deceit with false balances, buying the poor for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling the sweepings of the wheat. The LORD has sworn by the pride of Jacob: Surely I will never forget any of their deeds.” The prophet Amos (one of the most ancient prophets in Scripture) spoke to Israel at a time of unprecedented wealth. Many of God’s Chosen People have turned from God to focus upon material comfort. Amos clearly points them, and us, towards the reality that the LORD is looking out for the poor, and we who take advantage of the poor will be remembered (not in a good way). The bass line of our scriptural melody is established: The Lord remembers those who harm the poor.
From today’s psalm, we continue the song, “He takes up the weak out of the dust and lifts up the poor from the ashes. He sets them with the princes, with the princes of his people. He makes the woman of a childless house to be a joyful mother of children.” Our theme sounds a bit clearer now, as we hear more parts of the ensemble. From this ancient song we hear God pulls up the poor, and sets them among the prosperous. God makes the childless house into a home full of laughter. So God not only remembers those who harm the poor, God lifts up those who are poor.
Today’s reading from First Timothy throws a variation into our melody, Paul writes, to his friend Timothy, that through prayer we all “may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Our song is getting richer now, God not only lifts up the poor, but through the power of prayer we all are transcend into a life of godliness and dignity. We through the mediation of Christ Jesus enter into a peaceable life in God. This is a beautiful song.

So what about the Gospel? Is it just a loud saxophone-like blast, or is it like John Coltrane methodically working what at first seem to be chaotic outbursts into musical genius? In today’s gospel, Jesus speaks not to the crowds or to the Pharisees, but to his Disciples, those closest to him, telling them something between a parable and a moral lesson. The world within Jesus’ story is messy, just like the world in which we live. This land manager has made a few mistakes in his job and his rich boss is on the verge of firing him. Who hasn’t been in a similar situation at work? Somehow though, the unwise manager pulls a complete 180, transforming himself into a shrewd steward who is the paragon of faithfulness, but what is really going on here?
The rich man from the story has potentially achieved such wealth from dishonest means. Maybe he hiked up the interest rate on the amount of olive oil the farmer owed. Unlike our earlier readings, the poor are being trampled upon by the rich man. In the manager’s desperation, he sees an opportunity to make friends with this farmer, so that he will be welcomed when he has no job. Even though he has no business relinquishing the farmer’s debt, the steward cuts what the olive oil farmer’s owes in half. He most likely did this not by ripping off the rich man, but by foregoing his commission on what the farmer was to pay. In one fell-swoop the steward creatively gets in the good graces of not only the farmer, but also the rich man. He shows that he is faithful to his position, even to the point of giving up his own cut. He is no longer an unwise land manager, but now shows that he is a creative, resourceful, forgiving, and faithful steward.
Now we have a completely new layer to our melody from today: God will raise up the poor through Christ’s meditation, but we are now the Body of Christ, and we are called to be like the shrewd steward: to be creative, to be resourceful, to be forgiving, to be faithful servants of the poor. This is the music God is calling us to make with Him.



In our neighborhood, in our city, in the world there is so much messiness, just like the strange world of this parable. Yet, we are called to be creative with how we take care of the poor, for as Amos reminds us, God remembers when we do not take care of the least among us. God beckons us to be resourceful in lifting up the weak whose faces are in the dust. Like Paul reminds us, we are to pray through Christ, our mediator, to help the poor, but we are to be faithful in taking care of the naked, the homeless, the lonely, and the destitute. We might have no business forgiving other’s debts, like the steward from today’s Gospel, but I believe God calls us to participate in what Jesus did on the cross, “Lord forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We have the call to live faithfully following God, yet we are called not just to pray for the poor, but to be creative and resourceful in taking care of all those who are suffering around us. This is the song of the Scriptures: be creative, be resourceful, be forgiving, be faithful: serving the poor and loving God.

What call would immediately change your life? Matthew 4:18-25

Simon and Andrew, James and John have been doing the same work their entire lives. Rising early in the morning, they spend long hours in the scorching heat without cover out on the waters of the Sea of Galilee. Their hands are severely callused, their arms and shoulders routinely sore, and their backs extremely tight from hauling in fish, that is when they have been fortunate enough to catch them. Zebedee, James’ and John’s father sits in the boat, a constant fatherly presence and a reminder of the one who taught them not only how to fish, but how to live. From the time they were boys Zebedee brought them out upon the water not just as sons, but also as apprentices. These brothers live off of what they catch, and not just them, but their entire families. Before they caught their livelihood in the Sea of Galilee their fathers and uncles did, and their fathers and uncles before them. This is the family business. This is their life. They are fishermen.

Every day possesses the same routine: rise early, cast out over and over again, hopefully haul in fish, then return home sore and tired. Then, one day a stranger walks onto the shore where the brothers cast off to make their catch. He simply utters an invitation, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." The men, without hesitation, lay down the family business, their livelihoods, their life’s work at the request of passerby. “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.” 

Wait, what?! Are you serious Matthew?! That’s it?! No further explanation. No more detail, then that they laid down their nets and followed him. We hear this quaint story about fishing for people so many times that it becomes easy to overlook. Simon, Andrew, and the two Zebedee boys leave the work that provides them with food, shelter, and an opportunity to continue living, so that they can follow an itinerant preacher and healer. Fishing may be a smelly, sweaty, back-aching job, but it’s a way to make a living, it is a way of providing for one’s family, it is a way to survive.  

What was Zebedee thinking of his two sons James and John as they put down their nets? He might have thought, “I raised you to be fishermen. Now you want to go and follow this homeless stranger! You are going to throw away your life.” Later in Matthew, Jesus will say, “If you want to save your life you will destroy it.” We all know this saying, but still how many of us could even fathom giving up the power and control we have to make money, to make a living, to provide for our families? This is radical what these brothers are doing on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. They are leaving everything they have so that they can follow Jesus. Is there anything in this world that would make you leave your means for security and survival? Or put another way, what call would immediately change your life? 

I can tell you the precise geographic location (All Saints’ Chapel Sewanee, Tennessee) and specific date in history (Saturday, March 22, 2008) when I clearly heard Jesus’ call “Come, Follow me.” The two years before this day had been a struggle. I had fought with God trying to believe that he did not exist, but every time I turned my back on God, he was there. Finally I relented, and so on this night, the night of the Easter Vigil, I had reaffirmed my baptismal vows. I was serving as a chalice bearer, and the first person who extended his hands to receive the chalice was my childhood priest. As our eyes met, we shared a moment of communion. Then, I lifted back the silver chalice to reveal that the reflection in the cup made it appear as though all those gathered around the altar were making up the chalice. We, gathered together, are the Chalice, the Blood and Body of Christ. I knew then, that my call was to serve within that Body and to continue to hold up those sacraments as signs of God’s grace in this world. Before that moment I knew God existed, I knew I loved God, but I was not following him like Simon, Andrew, James, and John. God is calling each of us to immediately drop our nets and follow him. Maybe it’s not so dramatic as what I just described or what the Galilean brothers did, yet we are all ordained through our baptism and we are all called to be ministers in God’s Church.

This week we have spent a good bit of time at St. John’s exploring our congregational call to ministry through the envisioning process. We are learning one sheet of paper at a time, who we are as a community, for what we are thankful, what we yearn for as a church, and what ministries we are craving. As we continue to listen, I encourage us to listen to Jesus’ simple invitation, “Come follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” Amen.

Moving for the Treat: Luke 14:25-33

This is from September 1, 2013:
At first glance it seems pretty easy what to take away from today’s gospel: All who exalt themselves will be humbled and all who humble themselves will be exalted. We can even take it a step further and nod in agreement with Jesus’ advice to the Pharisees about giving up their place at the table and inviting in the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. Clearly Luke describes for us Jesus passing out this new form of table etiquette; a Christian Cotillion class, if you will, that seems so obvious that we can just hear it without it affecting our lives. We can, and I often do, rush through life without the Word of God even registering as anything more than a cliché: all who exalt themselves will be humbled and all who humble themselves will be exalted. Yet, Jesus does not simply say something as a throwaway line, this is not dinner party advice, rather it is a parable!

Parables, those seemingly nice, sweet fables overflowing in Luke’s Gospel, are more like a Trojan Horse than a bedtime story. These stories typically possess some sort of hidden kernel of wisdom that tends to hit us when we least expect it. However; before we get to the deceptive story of this wedding banquet, it is worth setting the stage for Jesus’ delivery of this parable.

The gospel starts, “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.” Like last week when we heard of Jesus healing a long suffering, crippled woman, our reading takes place on the Sabbath, a day that served as a litmus test for how faithful Pharisees to the Law. Unlike last week’s story, which took place in the Synagogue, today’s gospel occurs within the home of a Pharisee. Today this might be like having dinner at the home of a wealthy CEO or even a celebrity. The Pharisees are watching Jesus closely to see if he will mess up something on the Sabbath. Is he going to follow all the rules? Spoiler alert: NO!

While the lectionary cuts this part of the gospel out (Luke 14:2-6), Jesus again finds himself curing on the Sabbath and explaining that healing should not be hindered by what day of the week it is. If someone is suffering, they deserve God’s wellness NOW, not tomorrow! This Sabbath healing sets the Pharisees on edge and of course, does not conform to the rules of the day. Jesus has broken the Sabbath Law in the Pharisee’s home no less! So what does Jesus do to follow up this “heretical practice”? He tells a parable, of course.

I have always loved parables because no matter how many times I listen to them, I always hear something new. One way of deepening our experience with parables is actually by thinking of the shape of a parabola, both words come from the same root. The arc of a parabola goes up and comes down and where it starts it does not end. A parable is actually like a parabolic arc and one example is a doggie treat flying through the air and into the mouth of a waiting puppy. When the dog biscuit leaves my hand the canine has to move to make the catch. If we are to understand what Jesus is tossing to us in a parable we have to shift to grab the treat.

          In the home of the Pharisee, after Jesus has riled up this wealthy religious leader by healing on the Sabbath, He passes out advice, but it is not just about earthly matters. Jesus begins the parable with some insight into how to approach a wedding banquet, but also how to enter the Kingdom of God. We all get the invitation from the host, but the question is “How will we respond to it?” Will we seek out the best seat in the house?

During Jesus’ day, much like in our own day, where you sit at a wedding, in a meeting, and even in a synagogue or church is a big deal. But place is not just the physical seat at the Table, but rather one’s larger position within society. Jesus is saying more than just do not make a faux pas at the next wedding banquet you attend. Sure the arc of the story is leading us to think of the practical side, but what about the Kingdom of God? I believe Christ Jesus is urging us not to go about our daily lives thinking primarily of our place in this world OR THE NEXT! Rather, we are to seek out those lowly seats at the Table, in this world, in the Kingdom of God. It is not about groveling or false humility, but rather knowing that regardless of our place at the Table the way we take our seats requires our reverence of our Holy Host. We sit at this Divine Table having been invited by God who sits in the seat of honor.

         The second part of this dinner party parable is directed at leader of the Pharisees, the host of this earthly party. Jesus says to him do not invite your friends, but instead the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, for they cannot repay your kindness. If seen as advice, this seems so counterintuitive and paradoxical. How will this Pharisee impress his colleagues and prove his place in the world if he doesn’t show off his lavish home to his peers? But Luke’s gospel is so full of paradoxes: when you exalt yourself, you will be humbled; the first will be last and the last will be first; to gain your life, you must lose it. And here in this parable of hosting a party, another paradox: the rich make you poor and the poor make you rich.

          Often in this world I believe we get caught up in trying to impress one another. I have even told Auburn football fans that I like their team, so that they would like me. What Jesus is telling us is that the Kingdom of God is not about doing political favors, impressing others, or pretending we like something, so that we can move up in the world. It’s not even about trying to grab the best seat in the house, but rather it is about taking our true place, right here at God’s Table where everyone’s seat is the best seat in the house.

          Are we catching the treat yet? How is this parable asking us to move, so that we might get a better insight into the Kingdom of God? I think the true treat being tossed up is not good dinner party etiquette, but rather this parable is giving us a glimpse Kingdom living, what it means to help reveal it here on earth. We all have an invitation waiting from God our host, we all have a place at God’s Table, but instead of fighting over where we are sitting our call is to invite others into the Feast. How will you share your place at God’s Table?   

Bishop Paul Jones: John 8:31-32

Today, I want to talk about one of those saints in the church's history that we might overlook most of the time. This is the day when we celebrate Bishop Paul Jones. He was a priest first, then he was a missionary priest out in Logan, Utah when it was just a territory. The people in the wilderness of Utah liked him enough that he became their bishop. Now before I go on with Bishop Jones, I want to tell you a parable from my own life. 

Once there was a scrawny boy. For the most part he made friends with enough other kids that, so he did not get picked on by bullies. His mother, an ever wise figure in his life, continually gave him good advice that he did not always heed. One nugget that went in one ear and out the other was the following: "No matter what happens, no matter how angry you get, you always have a choice. You do not have to let anger overwhelm you. You can always choose peace."  

Well one time the boy found himself in a bit of a pickle. He had gotten the wrong person out in a game during P.E. and the bully was waiting on me in the locker room. The scrawny boy hurried over to his locker to change quickly and luckily the bully had to get dressed too, but before the period was over the bully was about to pummel the scrawny boy. In this moment of fear the boy did something that would have embarrassed his mother. As this bully swung at the boy, the scrawny one kicked the bully… hard and in a place that no boy wants to be hit. Right then, the bell rang and the boy ran out leaving the bully in a heap on the floor.

While at first I reveled in the elation of avoiding a butt kicking, I soon found myself deflated knowing that I had inflicted pain upon another human being. 

Sometime after I had kicked the bully, I went up to talk with him. I knew that I could have been beaten up in retaliation for what I did, but I also did not want to live in fear of a response to my actions. So, I approached the boy and we talked and somehow came to a truce. For neither of us wanted violence to keep us from playing together or enjoying P.E.

Today we celebrate the life of Bishop Paul Jones, a missionary bishop of the Episcopal Church, who served out in the territory of Utah in the early 1900s. At the time of World War I he spoke out in the name of peace, saying that fighting such a gruesome war was unchristian. His opinion was not well received. In fact, it got him ousted as the Bishop of Utah, as his fellow bishops did not like that he objected to war on the grounds of faith and conscious. Bishop Jones staked his life and risked his career as he believed that God is not a God who calls us to inflict pain and hurt upon one another, but rather that we are called to strive for peace among one another.

My encounter with a bully in middle school showed me that fear and violence enacted upon another only leads to more fear and violence. Bishop Jones saw that peace not violence was the way of the Church. Jesus died a violent death because those in power were afraid of his message. His message is what we heard today. “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”

We are called into this freedom, this freedom of knowing the truth. The truth is that violence does not perpetuate anything but violence. War leads to more war. As we sit as a nation wondering whether we should move again Syria with military action, I urge us to follow the path of Bishop Jones. God help us to choose peace and our conscious over war and violence.