Reflection in three parts

A late lectionary meditation. I avoided this last week, the gospel reading was one I have never felt a connection with and honestly I was looking forward to Sunday with a sort of relieved dread. Endings are like that, bitter and sweet. I left the gospel to our priest, but I did let her know I had no love for this pericope, she enjoys a challenge. We'll get to that but first:

Jeremiah 31:27-34

31:27 The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will sow the house of Israel and the house of Judah with the seed of humans and the seed of animals. 28 And just as I have watched over them to pluck up and break down, to overthrow, destroy, and bring evil, so I will watch over them to build and to plant, says the LORD. 29 In those days they shall no longer say: "The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge." 30 But all shall die for their own sins; the teeth of everyone who eats sour grapes shall be set on edge. 31 The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 32 It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt--a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the LORD. 33 But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34 No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

"The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge." For years now the people of my church and many others have lived this lesson. Our parents, in some cases our grandparents or great grandparents ate the sour grapes. They made mistakes, horrible mistakes and for years we, their children, have paid for those mistakes.

Every church has its conflicts and its scandals. If the news from the Roman Catholic church has taught us anything it is this: that hiding a problem always makes it worse. And that is what happened in this place. But hiding an issue does not solve it, nor wash the taste of it from our mouths. The seeds of bitterness, anger, betrayal, and hurt grow in such soil and indeed grew into vines bearing the most bitter of fruit. Many places, including my own beloved childhood parish still suffer beneath the shade of the thing that grew from such bitter seeds.

No more bitterness for me. No more will I taste the fruit of those who came before. There is a new covenant and I will no longer live as if it were never made. The truth of it is written on my heart and in my mind. I feel the infinitely light weight of it in my hands. The taste is still there in my mouth, my teeth still ache with it. But here now in the morning, without the teary eyes and the begging words whispering "please stay," I look back and realize that every lesson every word we read was telling us: it is right. Jeremiah spoke to me.

2 Timothy 3:14-4:5

3:14 But as for you, continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it, 15 and how from childhood you have known the sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 16 All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, 17 so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work. 1 In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I solemnly urge you: 2 proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching. 3 For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, 4 and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths. 5 As for you, always be sober, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, carry out your ministry fully.

The Epistle spoke to another. I sat listening to the lesson, once, twice and felt the shivering truth of those words. Echoing encouragement still so full of power and urgency after two thousand years. We do not change, we only shift. The core remains, unwilling, deaf, afraid. Perhaps the hardest for me are those two words: endure suffering. I want desperately to protect us all, to keep all those I love safe. I understand the urgent mission of a bodhisattva as I listen to Timothy. Forgo paradise to relieve the suffering of this broken world? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. And yet I can't, not really. I can only offer myself and hope, somehow that is enough. And that brings us to the gospel. The gospel that speaks to us all, even me.

Luke 18:1-8

18:1 Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2 He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3 In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, 'Grant me justice against my opponent.' 4 For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, 'Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5 yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.'" 6 And the Lord said, "Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? 8 I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

I've always had a less than happy relationship with this reading. It implies at first blush that if we just nag God enough we can get whatever it is we demand. And of course that implies that if our lives are a mess, if we're poor or ill or sorrowful it's because we just didn't nag enough. God is a bastard, God is an unjust judge.

Our priest promised to turn this one around, I was dubious. How many rabbis have I read recently and yet I found myself surprised? She turned the story over. God took the role of an old woman, and we become the unjust judge. We become the hard of heart who finally listen only because our God does not give up, our God does not give in, or God will not be silenced. And if that is true then we must become like the window, more like God.

We must cease to judge and weigh by the world's measure. We must become the downtrodden and oppressed, we must never cease to speak for the voiceless. We must be as God, offering ourselves over and over and over again in the face of injustice and indifference. We must wear the bastards down. In the end it is all we have to offer, ourselves to one another. Judge and widow, together doing what one alone could not. Softening our hearts, throwing away the scales, pursuing relentlessly, speaking without fear, relieving the suffering of our shared hearts.

The lessons were alive this week, they breathed out of the pages of scripture. They spoke with fresh young voices, old as time. May all with ears to hear, listen.

Breaking the rules

Luke 17:11-19

17:11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, 13 they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" 14 When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean.
15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? 18 Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" 19 Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

For two weeks now we've had lessons that use the word “Master.” For two weeks we've heard stories about commands. Remember, last week Jesus told us about the slave who works all day in the field and returns to cook and serve his master? This was the model of discipleship Jesus was holding up for us. Obedience, as slaves to their Master. “Master”, it's not a word we use much anymore. Certainly I've never had to call anyone Master, I'm guessing none of us have ever been in that position. But Jesus is admonishing us to be such servants: doing God's work faithfully and without thought of reward. This week we hear more about obedience, but this week we get a twist. Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Ten lepers were healed. Nine lepers were obedient, only the one who disobeyed Jesus' command earns praise. Only one is commended for his faith.

These two stories come one right after the next, but they seem so contradictory! Last week the good slave did his work because it was his duty, he obeyed his Master without question. Last week Jesus told us that God expects obedience. Today disobedience is rewarded, how can we find meaning in both?

Let's start at the beginning. Jesus and his disciples are traveling through the border country between Galilee and Samaria, a no-man's land where he comes upon a group of ten lepers. We might say lepers were doubly cursed. They suffered from painful, sometimes serious even fatal conditions. And on top of their physical suffering they were social outcasts. Forced to live only with other lepers far from their families and friends. They were literally untouchable. These are the people Jesus meets in the border lands. They are obedient to the law, they stay far away, they don't try to approach. But they call out from a distance: "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" They speak to Jesus as slaves to their owner. But what they ask him for is mercy. Despite all their suffering they haven't given up on God, or on this traveling preacher. Jesus doesn't go to them and touch them, he does not praise them for their faith as we see in other stories. Instead he gives them an order. "Go and show yourselves to the priests."

And they go! If I were to ask a Doctor to treat my illness and he just told me to go home I'd be a little upset. I don't think I'd trust that by the time I got there, I'd feel better. But that's exactly what these lepers do, they are obedient. And doing so they are obeying not just Jesus but the law, because for a leper to be healed is not enough, to be restored to their communities they must go to the temple and be inspected and declared clean by a priest.

Nine of the lepers do exactly that. We don't know what happens to them but we can assume they are inspected by the priest, declared clean, and go home. If this were a healing story that would be the end of it. But this isn't a story about healing, this is a story about obedience and gratitude. This is a story about the tenth leper. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. One leper as he went along that journey of obedience had a realization. He saw, in the midst of his suffering and isolation that he was indeed blessed. He was so overwhelmed with joy, with gratitude that he turned around and went back to that no-man's land where he'd started. Obedience was interrupted by gratitude.

He disobeyed Jesus and he ignored the rules and requirements of the society around him. Yet he is praised. Why the difference? The contrast, the tension, between obedience and disobedience was important to the author of Luke. The author, and Jesus, understood the need for tension. Jesus understood that often there isn't only one way of things, that the answers often aren't as simple as saying that obedience is good, and disobedience is sin.

What does this tell us? How are we to understand these contradictions? Jesus does expect obedience. But Jesus, and God, don't want us to be blindly obedient. God isn't looking for slaves who simply do their duty. God wants our joy and our exuberant gratitude. The tenth leper threw off rules and expectations to rush back to Jesus. He thanked him, not just a little but exuberantly. He was so overcome with gratitude that he threw himself down into the dirt at Jesus' feet and he thanked him. I can imagine the tears of joy and relief streaming down his cheeks, his voice shaking with laughter. "Thank you, Lord! Thank you!"

The Samaritan leper chose the better part, he chose gratitude and response to God over obedience. He chose to respond to God and to Jesus with his first instinct, his honest response. Not caring about propriety or the way things "should be done." He was still unclean! He was still an outcast, anyone but Jesus would have been horrified to be touched by such a man. But he goes back anyway and he throws himself to the ground. It isn't the way society views him that matters, nor dotting all his i's and crossing all his t's. What matters is his trusting, exuberant response to his very personal experience with God.

It's easy for us to become like those nine other lepers, isn't it? When things go wrong we call out to God "help me!" We ask for God to heal our disease, or mend our broken heart, or fix a relationship, or help us with money problems, or get us through a test at school, there's always some burden in our lives that we feel we can't bear. Sometimes there are lots of them. We can feel a lot like those lepers, sick, lonely, hopeless. We're quick to ask, or even demand help. But how good are we at recognizing the blessings in our lives? When things go right do we go on our way, hardly even noticing our Master, never thinking to thank him?

What if we were like the tenth leper? He was healed but according to the law he was still unclean. And he was something else that no one could change, he was a Samaritan. A stranger, and not a popular one. Whenever the New Testament authors need someone to stand for the outsider it is always a Samaritan. They were social outsiders within Israel. No matter what happened this man would never be accepted by his neighbors; he would always be looked down upon; he would always have trouble finding a job; he would never be welcomed as a neighbor and friend. Like us his life wasn't made easy or perfect by his encounter with Jesus. We might have expected him to have the least reason to celebrate. But he responded with exuberant gratitude anyway.

What if we didn't do the expected thing either when God came into our lives? What if we responded to God with exuberance, thankfulness, and wild abandon? What if we even ignored the rules sometimes? What would that look like?

The Episcopal church has had some rough times lately. We're all over the newspapers, I'm sure you've seen the stories. There are lots of people who don't think we're proper Christians, who don't want to associate with us. Even other Anglicans around the world seem set on casting us out, separating themselves from us. And what about us, here, at Grace? We've had our share of hard times. We might feel justified in saying "it's just not fair." We've certainly got enough to worry about: money, the number of people sitting in the pews, and very uncertain times ahead. And in our own lives how many “curses” are we suffering from? There is sickness, job loss, and death in our families. We have a lot of things to be worried about, a lot of reasons to feel anxious. It might be hard to feel very grateful.

But God hasn't abandoned us, we're not in this alone. We Episcopalians, and we here at Grace, and each of us who have come here for worship today, are blessed. Just like those ten lepers we've been given amazing blessings by a God who loves us and is present with us always. That's what Jesus' name means: God with us. Are we like those nine lepers who do the sensible thing, follow all the expected behaviors, and then go on with their lives? Or can we be like the tenth leper? Can we open our eyes to the healing and the blessing already present with us? And when we realize that God is with us, that God has actually never left us, can we throw ourselves at the feet of our Savior, laughing and crying with joy?

It isn't the proper thing to do, surely. It might shock some people. What if when a visitor walked in that door they saw us smiling! What if they heard us singing as loudly as we could! What if they found themselves surrounded by joy and thankfulness? They might look around and ask what we have to be so happy about. The pews are pretty empty, the budget doesn't look too good, the paint is a little old, the hangings are a little faded. And the news outside this place just gets worse.

Might those visitors ask why we weren't behaving the way the world expects, why we weren't worried and anxious? Wouldn't they want to know why we were so excited and joyful when things look pretty worrying? Of course they would! And we'd have an answer for them, wouldn't we? God is with us.

Sometimes we need to follow orders. Sometimes we need to be the good, hardworking, faithful servants. But just as important as that, is our willingness to give ourselves to God with such passion, such exuberance that words just aren't enough. Have you ever been so happy you couldn't sit still anymore, you just had to get up and dance? Or so filled with sorrow that kneeling to pray wasn't good enough and you lay down on the floor and wept? Or like that leper dancing down the road and praising God at the top of his lungs, even if it made him look a little crazy?

God wants us. God wants all of us, not just our minds, not just our duty. God doesn't just want us to come here every week because we feel we should. God wants us to come to Him to be refreshed, blessed, renewed! Nine lepers were obedient. But only one leper cast off all his other worries and burdens and gave himself over to God with his whole heart, and mind, and body. And for his trust, for his willingness to break with tradition, for his honest response Christ blessed him and truly made him well. He met God, and so can we.

What if we could find that same trust, that same faith, within ourselves? What if we as individuals, and as a parish, could come to this altar with our whole selves alive with joy and wonder and gratitude? What if we praised God for the blessings all around us, and truly trusted that he would make all things well? I can't promise that it would change the news in the papers, or make our lives perfect, but I can promise that we would be changed.

[quietly] "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well." Amen.