Sunday, September 29 - A Sermon for Election Season

Amos 6:1a, 4-7; Psalm 146; 1 Tim 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31

Amos, the writer of our psalm, the writer of the first letter to Timothy, Jesus––they all have harsh words for us this morning. To a person, they are condemning God’s people for doing nothing when confronted with people in need. We don’t like to hear this part of God’s message to us, but here it is: God has given us the resources and the opportunity to help those in need, and when we don’t, God gets upset. Amos takes his listeners to task for not being “grieved over the ruin of Joseph,” by which he means the exploitation and abuse of those in the community. The writer of the psalm warns people not to put worship human leaders as if they are gods, since they are no more powerful than any of the rest of us, and likely to have gotten their riches off the labour of the poor. The writer of 1 Timothy says that all kinds of evil grow from loving money more than anything else, and Jesus makes it very clear to his listeners that God has already warned us, through Torah and the prophets, to take care of the poor, and that if we ignore those words, no one is going to save us from the consequences.

We call these four bearers of God’s Word prophets. A prophet is a person sent by God to point to the truth that nobody else wants to see, that often nobody wants to admit is coming, and then the prophet clearly lays out the consequences if nothing changes. Anybody, actually, can be a prophet––Martin Luther was one, Desmond Tutu was one, we even have them today.

The trouble is, prophets are seldom popular in their own time. We like prophets in retrospect, but not if they’re actually speaking to us. Mostly because they always seem angry, and they seem intent on shaming or berating us. Their accusations put us off, their anger allows us to dismiss them as irrational, we might even label them as “crazy” and stop listening. And yet they continue. It’s only later, years later or even thousands of year later, that we look back and realize that what they were saying was and is still true. Prophets like Amos, or Jesus, or Luther only get credit and respect in hindsight.

I suspect, though, that the real reason we don’t take to heart what prophets say to us is because what they’re saying is incredibly overwhelming. In their righteous anger, they come across so strongly that we feel defenseless. “I hate, I despise your festivals,” are the words Amos uses to describe God’s feelings towards those who walk past the needy on their way to worshipping God. Jesus says that if we act like the rich man and don’t care for the poor at our doorstep, we will be flung into a place of fire and torment, with no chance of escape. Prophets demand, with divine authority, that we change in significant, life-altering ways. They tell us that we need to dismantle entire systems. And so we stop listening, because even though they are speaking the words of God, they’re asking us to do the impossible.

But it’s only a twisted God who would tell us to do the impossible and then condemn us when we can’t. And that is not our God. Instead, we have a God who has and does give us what we need to change. God has given us the resources to care for the needy in our midst. God has always blessed us with more than we need, and has always provided opportunities for us to use those blessings to help others. For example, in Amos’ time, as well as in Jesus’ time, and in the time of the early church, societies were structured so that those with more were obligated and expected to take care of those with less. “Moses and the prophets” say that if you have land producing food, you are not supposed to harvest it, you’re supposed to leave the edges of the field, or grapes on the vine, or fruit on the trees so that those who are poor can come along later and take the leftovers. Roman and Greek societies were built on patronage systems, and the Middle Ages on feudal systems, where those with riches and power understood that God or the fates had caused them to be born into their stations in life in order to provide for those who were born lower. It was expected––it was the divine order––that we would take care of those around us. It’s just that, in our love of money and power, we twisted what God had given us to serve ourselves rather than others.

So what does that mean for us today? Well, we’re in a bit of a new situation here, because today we’re living in a society that Amos and Jesus and the early church and even Luther couldn’t possibly imagine. Today we live in a world where we believe that people aren’t born into power, like the rulers of old, but that we elect them to power. Today we live in a democracy––something that the people of the Bible could not even imagine. And living in a democracy means that we live in a society where we regular people actually have way more power than those in previous times ever did. We have the power to affect government policy, which is a power far greater than simply feeding the poor out of our own kitchens. We have been born into a time and a place where our individual vote has the power to affect the lives of millions of Canadians, and even billions around the world.

Now, before anyone starts worrying, I’m not about to cross that important distinction between church and state and tell you which party Christians should vote for. We do misunderstand what that concept means, which Luther himself actually invented, but that’s for another day.

But what I am going to say is that our readings for today tell us that God expects us to use the riches and the power we have to improve the lives of those in greatest need, to love our neighbours as ourselves, and today, those riches and power comes in the form of our vote. You see, each of us here is doing okay. It is highly unlikely that any of us will end up literally starving and begging at the gates of rich Calgarians if one or another of the political parties win. We might gain some, we might lose some, but our basic necessities will still be cared for. But there are people in Canada, and around the world, whose lives will be fundamentally altered depending on which party comes into power, and which promises they choose to keep. And so God is calling us to hear the words of the prophets of our time, to look at the difficult reality before us, and to vote for the party that has the best platform for the Lazaruses around us, for the disadvantaged in need in our communities, whether we think of those communities as our ridings, as the whole country, or even the whole world. And so I don’t think it’s going too far to say that God is calling us to “give away” our vote to those most in need, to turn it away from serving ourselves to serving the least among us, to serving the Lazaruses of our world. To listen to Torah and the prophets, to listen to Jesus, and to love our neighbours as ourselves by casting our ballot as if their needs are our own.

The prophets’ words tell us to take care of those in need amongst us, and we can listen because we need not be overwhelmed. God gives us the means and power to shape the systems, and God gives us the opportunity to actually do it. We are not, in fact, like the rich man who has already died and is left on the wrong side of the chasm. God is not twisted, setting us up for a failing task. The task––to treat our votes as riches to be shared with the larger community––is challenging, but it is not impossible. God has given it to us to do, and so we can. And for this opportunity and for the resources to serve, we say, Thanks be to God, Amen.

Sunday, September 22 - The Dishonest Manager

Luke 16:1-13

Well, that wasn’t confusing at all, was it? Okay, so, to get to the heart of what Jesus is trying to tell us in this parable, and to understand how this is a message of God’s Good News for us, we’re going to have to do a little bit of Bible study here. 

So, the most important thing that’s helpful to know is that the very last sentence of our Gospel reading is supposed to shape our interpretation of the very first sentence. “You cannot serve God and wealth.” “There was a rich man...” Right from the get-go, we are supposed to understand that the rich man in Jesus’ story is not a sympathetic figure. He is not someone who’s supposed to be a role model for our journey as a Christian, and so we need to be suspicious of everything he does after this point. When he tells his manager that he’s going to dismiss him because the manager has been accused (without proof) of financial misconduct, we should be suspicious. When he then commends the dishonest manager, we should be suspicious. We so often think that if someone appears in the Bible that that means they are perfect examples of the godly life, but that isn’t always the case. This rich man is serving wealth, and therefore not serving God. Whatever he does, we should be doing the opposite.

Now, the second thing that it’s important to pay attention to is the way Jesus talks about the “children of this age” versus the “children of the light.” The “children of this age” are people who live in this world, in the present, in this concrete, material world. The Gospel calls them “shrewd,” which really means practical. They want to make the best of what’s in the here-and-now, because it’s not practical to get too attached to a future that may or may not happen. Jesus contrasts them with the “children of light,” who are not so practical. We might call them the people with their heads in the clouds, idealists, not quite in touch with the realities of the world. The children of light often get taken advantage of; the word “shrewd” just isn’t in their vocabulary. That being said, the children of light are the ones who serve God, not wealth.

And finally, the last thing we’re supposed to have in mind is that leading up to this point, the Gospel of Luke has said a lot of things about who is in the kingdom of God, about who is already being brought into the eternal homes: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, all the prophets, the “last” (as in the last shall be first), and the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame. These are the ones whom God is already bringing into the kingdom.

Okay, so, rich man and children of this age, the ones who serve wealth––bad. Children of the light and those already in the kingdom, the ones who serve God––good.

And now, let’s look at the most puzzling thing Jesus says, which makes this whole parable so confusing the first time we hear it. After telling us how the manager falsifies the bills so that the debtors will take care of the manager after he’s fired, Jesus says, “and the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd (or practical) in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”

So, for one thing, when the rich man commends the dishonest manager, remember: we’re supposed to reject everything that the dishonest manager did. There are lots of preachers who have tried to twist his actions and struggle to find something good in what the manager has done, but there’s nothing good. Whatever the rich man commends is something we should reject, in this case, shrewd, practical (if dishonest) behaviour. 

But it’s that last sentence that’s really supposed to tip us off to what Jesus means: “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” 

Wait a minute, it’s not the shrewd, practical, servants of money who welcome us into the eternal homes. Jesus is being sarcastic. I know, we never think he is, but here he is. Jesus knows that the ones who are going to welcome us into the eternal homes are the ones who are already there. You can’t welcome someone in unless you’re already in. And the ones who are in are the “last,” the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame. The ones who are in are the children of light, the completely impractical ones, the ones who said, “No, I’m not okay with falsifying my bill, it’s not okay to cheat the rich man out of what I owe him, even if he is rich and I’m poor.” The ones who welcome us into the eternal homes, into the kingdom of God, are not the practical, or the shrewd, or the ones whose friendship or protection or loyalty can be bought, but the ones who serve God, who hold to their integrity, who hold to their idealism, even in the face of a world that demands practicality.

And so now we can get to the heart of what Jesus is saying. Jesus is speaking to the disciples, and so to us, and warning us that there are two worlds, two masters fighting for our allegiance. There’s the practical one, where money or the economy is the top priority, and God’s, where the “last” are supposed to be put first. And he’s saying that we can’t live in both worlds. We can’t be both practical and idealistic at the same time. We’re going to have to choose. We can’t live our lives from Monday to Saturday making decisions based on what “makes the most sense,” or trying to make friends with dishonest people, or being practical with our money or our possessions or our lives or our votes. Sure, this way of living probably does makes our lives easier in the here-and-now. I mean, yes, sure, we can prioritize those things, and enjoy this life, but Jesus is saying that if we do, we need to be fully aware that we who call ourselves Christians and followers of Jesus are not, in fact, loving or serving God.

Which is not super-encouraging to hear. I like being practical. I can definitely see the appeal of making friends who have money and power and influence. I used to be idealistic, when I was young, and the stakes seemed lower, but as I get older, I find myself becoming more practical. My kids depend on me. The stakes seem higher. Wealthy people welcoming me into their homes seems like a good back-up plan in uncertain economic times. Voting for the federal party that’s going to protect, or even improve, my financial well-being makes sense. And Jesus is showing me that I need to give that up. To give up being practical. I don’t like this parable. I can see why preachers try to find ways around it.

But it’s important to note that Jesus is speaking to the disciples. He’s speaking to people who have already started following him, who have already very impractically left behind their careers and their security on the shores by the Sea of Galilee. He’s speaking to people who have already given up practical thinking and put themselves in last place. He’s speaking to those who have made the very impractical decision to spend their Sunday morning in church, instead of running errands or cleaning the house or being efficient with their time. He’s speaking to you. Who already know you can’t have it both ways. And he’s telling you that he recognizes that you are sacrificing things to follow him. He acknowledges the cost you are paying to be idealistic rather than practical. He’s telling the disciples and you that when you are faithful in the little things of this life, as you are, that he trusts that you will be faithful with the big things. He’s saying that as you are faithful with what God has given you––your life, in particular; as you are living the life God has given with integrity and honesty, that you will be compensated with God’s own life. That you will be welcomed––by Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, by the prophets, by the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame––into the eternal homes, into the kingdom of God.

And this is encouraging to hear. Because Christ is not like the dishonest master, who dismisses his manager. Christ is the good master, the one who takes care of his servants no matter what. When you were baptized, Christ became your master, and that means you already have a home to be welcomed into. By virtue of our baptism, we are already guaranteed a place in the kingdom of God, which means we don’t need to act like the manager, creating back-up plans through dishonesty, or putting money and the economy above everything else. We can be last in this life, because in God’s presence we are already first. You are freed from having to live up to the standards of this world because you are already claimed by God. There are different standards for you, which have already been met in baptism.

It’s true, in this world, living with Christ as your master means that things will not always be comfortable. The children of this age will always be ready to dismiss you, especially if you say you’re going to vote as a Christian first. The children of this age will accuse you of being impractical, of being idealistic, of not dealing with the realities of this world. But there is more than just this world and this practical, wealth-focused existence, and so you can hold to your ideals in the face of scorn, you can be impractical in the face of criticism, you can follow Christ as your master. Because even if the children of this age scorn you, even if your family or your friends dismiss or outright reject you, in this world you are in good company with the disciples of Jesus and the children of light. And in the world to come, you are already being welcomed into the company of God and all of God’s children. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, September 8 - Hate Those we Love?

Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Luke 14:25-33

Wow. Okay. Saying, “Thanks be to God,” was a bit hard on that one, eh?

Well, right off the bat, it’s important to note that the Jesus of the Gospel of Luke can sometimes tend to hyperbole. He exaggerates in order to get people’s attention. We know this because in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says it a bot more reasonably, “whoever loves mother or father, or son or daughter, more than me is not worthy of me.” (Matthew 10:37) Jesus’ point is not about hating our family members, but about loving and following him more than we love our family. We can still love our family, and we should, just not more than we love God.

Which is not to say we have an easy out. What Jesus is saying is still hard, because what he’s saying is, essentially, that putting God first will get in the way of some of our relationships. Following Jesus and carrying our cross will get in the way of some of our close, meaningful relationships––with family or with people as close to us as family. Jesus is warning us that there is a cost to being his disciple.

But what does that mean––following Jesus and carrying the cross? We like to use this phrase a lot in church, especially when we want to sound like serious, committed Christians, along with words like discipleship, but what does it actually mean? What is this “thing” that gets on the way of our close relationships?

Well, it is as simple, and as challenging, as living in our baptism, every single day. If you were baptized in the Lutheran church, the pastor asked you or your parents something similar to, “Do you renounce the forces of evil, the devil, and all his empty promises?” And you, or an adult on your behalf, said, “I do.” In other words, you were asked if you would refuse to follow the devil, turn away from the promises of success and wealth and glory that will never be realized, and actively reject participating in any scheme of evil or hatred that might come before you.

This is what it is. Living in our baptism, following Jesus, carrying our cross means saying no to any action that would compromise the integrity of God’s goodness. It means saying no to any decision that would lead to the suffering of others, it means actively refusing to participate in the abuse of power, it means living as if we really are children of God, made so through God’s gracious act in baptism, because we are.

But wow, is this hard. There is a cost to this way of living. There’s a cost to ourselves, personally, because sometimes it means giving up opportunities for profit, or advancement, or success. If getting ahead involves climbing on someone else’s back, or pushing someone out of the way, or cutting in front, then we have to say no. If our gain means someone else’s loss, we have to say no. If us having more of something means someone else has less, and they need it more than we do, then we have to say no. When we are brought up onto the highest peak and are offered an entire kingdom in exchange for a few words of obedience to evil, then, like Jesus, we have to say no, and give up any hopes of being the one to rule the world. We have to go back to our small corner of the house, and say no to glory and success and admiration. There is a cost to living with integrity and to making the well-being of others a priority, day after day after day, not just in church, and not just at home, but in the classroom, in the office, on the streets, in the online forum. There is absolutely a personal cost to following Jesus, and you should know that up front. You will not become famous following Jesus.

There is also a relational cost. And this is really what Jesus is talking about. You see, when we choose to live in our baptism, when we choose to follow Jesus in our daily living, in every decision we make and every action we take, there is a good chance we will disrupt the relationships we have with others. Because the sad reality is that there are people who want out of their relationships what they can get for themselves. These people rely on us to put their interests first, to follow them, to love them above all else. And these people might be family members––mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. They might be close friends, or co-workers or business partners, or spiritual leaders. They might be classmates, or on the same sports team or in the same clubs as us. And they may tell you they love you, and need you, but what they will mean is that they love you and need you for what you can do for them. And so, when we choose to follow Jesus, to put God first, rather than our relationships with others, then often those other relationships fall apart. Jesus says it earlier, you cannot serve two masters. Sometimes, saying yes to God means saying no to someone else. No to their hatred, no to their pettiness, no to their desire to use us for their glory. And then we are accused of not loving them, not caring about them, of abandoning them, of hating them. And the relationship falls apart. All because we made the choice to follow Jesus in our daily decisions. So, yes, there is a cost to being a disciple.

But here’s what God does as we make that choice, day after day after day. This is from the Gospel of Luke, only a little bit after the reading we just heard, “Then Peter said, ‘Look, we have left our homes and followed you.’ And Jesus said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come eternal life.’” You see, Jesus does actually call us to love our neighbour, not to hate them. We are called to serve others. It’s just that we serve them best by following Christ first. Through you, God gives life to others and to the world whenever you act with integrity, whenever you renounce the forces of evil, the devil and all his empty promises, whenever you choose to serve rather than to rule, whenever you live in the baptismal promise that you are children of God, inheritors of light and love.

Because the true cost of carrying the cross and being a disciple of Jesus, the final cost when everything is done and calculated is this: new life. We can never forget that the cross ends in resurrection. The life that Jesus gave up was transformed into resurrection life, eternal life, life that cannot be conquered by death. The life and relationships we die to when we reject the devil and power and glory are hollow, not actually worth holding onto, and in baptism God makes us dead to them in order to give us new life, true life, life worth living. Even the relationships that we choose not to nurture, that wither because we will no longer compromise our baptismal calling, that fall apart and die, those relationships will receive new life, true life in Christ. It may take time. It may take a lifetime. But our relationships are shaped by the people in them, and when you are given new life through Christ, when you experience transformation through discipleship, through following Christ, through carrying the cross, your relationships will, too. The “hate” will be transformed into love.

Jesus’ words to hate those in our life and to follow him are both death and life for us and those we love. In a way, they are both a threat and a promise. They are a threat to ways of living and relating that rely on competition, one-up-manship, us-or-them ways of existing. And they are a promise of life-for-all, of love that wins, of meaningful ways of relating to others that truly bring joy and peace to everyone. They are a promise and guarantee of God’s life for you, the true cost of following Christ. And for this we can easily say, “Thanks be to God.” Amen.