Persistence

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 16, 2016

24 Proper C

          The model of dogged persistence in our household is, indeed, our dog.  Fang is a 125 pound Italian mastiff, so his sheer size makes him a formidable opponent when he wants something.  However, his persistence does not begin with his size.  Fang starts with The Look.  He gets very still and stares at us with a pleading look.  When The Look does not work, he sits. Years ago, Fang had both of his ACLs repaired within a few months, so he could not sit for a long time.  Don and I were so excited when he could finally sit, that we rewarded him every time.  Fang remembers that.  When sitting does not work, Fang moves to nudging, still gently, but annoyingly.  By now the drool is pouring out of his mouth, so being nudged, even gently by that great. slobbery muzzle does begin to wear us down.  At this point, Fang is usually asked to go to his mat.  After a brief time on his mat, measured in something close to nano seconds, Fang returns to try again, this time skipping steps one and two and going straight back to nudging.  By this time, Don and I have almost finished supper, and Fang usually wins some morsel of food.  Fang is nothing if not persistent.

          My hunch is that most of us have some experience of our own with persistence. We learn from a young age that to get whatever we want in life, we have to keep trying.  Many times, but not always, our persistence pays off.   When we do not succeed, we often wonder whether we should have tried just a little bit harder. But in my experience, and perhaps yours, prayer is the one area where persistence just does not always seem to reap the results I ask for. Did my loved one die because I was not persistent enough in prayer?  Do I believe that if I had just prayed a little harder, or gotten just a few more people to pray, she would have lived? I don’t think so, but today’s gospel lesson certainly seems to tell us that if we are persistent enough in prayer, we will get whatever we want from God.

          In Jesus’ parable this morning, the widow wants the judge to grant her justice against her opponent. In Jesus’ time, judges were entrusted with protecting the poor, the widows and the orphans. This judge ignores the widow’s request, and, because the widow is not willing to take "no" for an answer, she repeats it. This cycle occurs over and over again, until finally worn down, the judge grants the widow justice so that she will go away. At the end of the parable, Jesus says "Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them." Jesus seems to be telling us that if we pray long enough and hard enough, if we are persistent enough and if we refuse to take "no" for an answer, eventually we will wear God down and God will give us what we want, just to get us to go away.  

            How are we to understand this parable?

            The reading from 2 Timothy reminds us that all Scripture is given to us for our learning. We tend to shy away from such passages because we wonder if God really wants us to stone our children when they talk back to us, as Deuteronomy 21 suggests, or refrain from wearing blended fabric as Leviticus 19 and Deuteronomy 22 suggest, or hate our mother and father, brothers and sisters, or even life itself as Jesus suggests in the gospels of Matthew and Luke. But the writer of 2 Timothy is not talking about every individual verse of Scripture, nor is 2 Timothy talking about taking one verse of Scripture and using that single verse to interpret all of Scripture. 2 Timothy is telling us that the whole of Scripture is inspired by God and given to us for our learning. God invites us to use the fullness of Scripture to understand a single difficult passage, so that we don’t have to rely on just our own experience and the words of a single passage of Scripture to figure out what God is calling us to do and be. 

         So, in this morning’s parable, we have a widow and an unjust judge. When we think about all of Scripture, we remember that over and over again in the gospels, especially Luke’s gospel, we see Jesus identify himself with the poor and the outcast, the widows and the orphans. In Matthew’s gospel, we hear Jesus say that whenever we minister to the hungry and the thirsty, to those on the margins of society, we minister to him. We watch Jesus care for those who have been cast aside, which would certainly include the widows of Jesus’ time. We hear Jesus say in the Book of Revelation "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." In the Hebrew Scriptures, the one who cares passionately about justice is God. And, through out Scripture, typically the ones who act unjustly and exploit other people, are people, not God. In the parables, typically, the bad king, the rude guest, the corrupt manager, or the stingy farmer represent people, not God. So, in the context of all of Scripture, perhaps there is different way to understand the parable of the unjust judge. Perhaps God is the one knocking so persistently, demanding justice, and perhaps WE are the judge. Perhaps the persistence in this parable is God’s persistence, the knocking that will not stop until justice has been served. And in this parable, suppose that we are the judge, the ones empowered by God to bring about justice, to care for the poor and the oppressed, the outcasts and the victims of injustice. The persistent knocking is knocking on the door of our hearts so that we may see and hear and feel the injustice of the world and be inspired by God to do something about it. Perhaps prayer is not about continually pestering God to do something about all that is wrong with our lives and the world until God gives in just so we will go away. Perhaps prayer is, at least in part, our listening for God to tell us all that is broken in this world and how we are to work on God’s behalf to bring about justice, healing, and peace.

             In the end, the story of Scripture, and the parable of the unjust judge, is not the story of human persistence at all. The story of Scripture, including our parable this morning, is the story of the persistence of God and how we respond to God’s persistent knocking.
                                                                                           Amen.

Joy

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 9, 2016

23 Proper C

          The last parish I served runs a large food pantry one Wednesday afternoon a month.  They serve about 150 families each time they open and distribute three days’ worth of food to each family.  The food comes from Shared Harvest, which provides food to food banks at a nominal cost.  So, the church is able to provide the usual staples like canned goods, peanut butter, and cereal, along with fresh produce and meat.  In addition, the parishioners provide toilet paper to go in the food bags since toilet paper is something that cannot be purchased with food stamps.  Here at Christ Church we are also collecting toilet paper for the Hudson food bank for the same reason. 

          One particular Wednesday the food pantry ran out of food a good thirty minutes before the posted closing time.  There was no food left on the shelves when a woman came to the door and rang the bell.  But we still had some toilet paper, so as I went to the door to explain to the woman that we were out of food, I picked up a large package so at least I could offer her something.  What the woman had actually come to do was retrieve her walker, which she had left behind earlier in the day when she had come for her food.  Since I was standing in the doorway holding a package of toilet paper, I offered it to her anyway.  The woman’s face lit up, she threw her hands up in the air and she shouted “Thank you, Jesus!”  Then she went on her way.

          I believe the gratitude the woman displayed for a package of toilet paper is the kind of gratitude the 10^th person with leprosy displays when he realizes that he has been healed.  He turns back, praises God with a loud voice, and falls at Jesus’ feet to thank him.  After the man has been healed, and after he has returned to give thanks, we are told that he is also a Samaritan. The ancestry of Samaritans was a mix of Hebrew and pagan, going back to the time when the Assyrians conquered and invaded the northern kingdom of Israel and mixed marriage became common.  The form of Judaism that developed in what remained of the Northern Kingdom was different from the Judaism that developed in the southern Kingdom as well, making the Samaritan a double outsider-once on account of the leprosy and once on account of his faith.

          What I find interesting and a bit annoying quite frankly, is Jesus’ criticism of the other 9 people who he healed of leprosy.  Jesus told them to go and show themselves to the priests, who would certify that they had been healed of the leprosy and could be restored to the community.  Those 9 people did what Jesus told them to do.  They were going off to show themselves to the priests.  The 10^th person who returned, was actually disobeying Jesus.  However, since he was a Samaritan, a) he did not observe the same laws around cleanliness that the other 9 did and b) even if he was declared clean by the priests, he still was not going to be made part of the community because he was a Samaritan.  But why does Jesus criticize the 9 who were simply doing what Jesus had told them to do?

          Hold that question while we hear what Jeremiah says this morning to the people who have been forcibly taken from the Promised Land and exiled in Babylon in the 6^th century BC.  We know from Psalm 137, which was written early in the exile, but which we did not hear this morning, that the people who were exiled in Babylon thought they could not possibly live as God’s people in a foreign land.  Their identity was tied up in being the people of a particular piece of real estate that God had provided for them.  The beginning of Psalm 137 reads “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion.  On the willows there, we hung up our harps.  For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”  How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”  Into that misery, God speaks the words we hear from Jeremiah this morning: “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give you daughters in marriage….seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile and pray to the Lord on its behalf.  For in its welfare, you will find your welfare.”   God is telling the Hebrew people to settle down in Babylon, in this foreign place, and make it their home in the fullest sense of the word.  They will find new and different ways to worship and obey God in a foreign land.

          The 9 people who were cleansed of their leprosy did as Jesus instructed and they were doing as the law required.  They were obedient and faithful.  I am also quite sure that they were thankful.  The exiled people in Babylon also thought they were doing as God and the law required by holding on to their faithfulness to the land God had provided and their identity as people of that land.  They saw no way they could keep God’s law without a temple in which to worship.  In both cases, however, I think God is telling the faithful people that there is more to faith than just obedience.  Faith is also about joy and gratitude.  The Samaritan was filled with great joy and deep gratitude at the sudden miracle Jesus had done in his life, and used his whole self to demonstrate that gratitude.  The Hebrew people would settle down in Babylon, would learn that they could, indeed, worship and obey God there.  In fact, they would come to enjoy life there and find such meaningful ways to practice their faith apart from the Promised Land that many would choose to stay even when they were allowed return to the Promised Land some 50 years later. 

          We may not be as demonstrative in our gratitude as either the woman at the food pantry was when she received the package of toilet paper or as the Samaritan who was cleansed of leprosy.  But Jesus calls us to more than lip service to express our gratitude.  Our worship calls us to live as grateful people at all times and in all places.  We obey this call every Sunday as we pray “It is right and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere, to give thanks to You.”  This parish has certainly experienced times of deep challenge when you had to do the spiritual equivalent of building homes and living in a foreign land.  You have learned to give thanks in all times and places.  This parish has also experienced times of restoration and deep delight.  Jesus calls us to a lively faith, and to throw our whole selves into gratitude, not just out of obedience but out of joy.

                                                                   Amen.

Measuring

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

October 2, 2016

22 Proper C

          Our oldest son, Slocomb, celebrated his 30^th birthday this past Thursday.  This occasion required the making of our traditional family birthday cake and mailing it to Cincinnati.  The cake itself is our own creation, but the icing is the recipe my mother got from her mother.  Recipes handed on by word of mouth can be a bit tricky, especially since my mother did not put much stock in traditional units of measure when cooking.  Most of her recipes begin with a glob of butter, end with a package of chocolate chips, and might include a splash of vanilla.  If a recipe called for a teaspoon of something, baking soda, for instance, she used a teaspoon out of the silverware drawer.  Likewise, a soup spoon made a fine tablespoon.  Not until my sister and I took home economics in Junior High School did we know that real measuring spoons and cups actually exist.  Somehow Mom’s recipes always worked out, but following them now that she is gone is a bit of a challenge.  Through trial and error, I have taken the icing recipe which includes a glob of butter, two heaping spoons of cocoa, a small bowl of powdered sugar, some milk and a little vanilla and converted the recipe into something a little more precise.  And most of the time, my version turns out pretty close to Mom’s.

          This morning, the disciples think of faith as something that can be quantified and measured.  “Increase our faith,” they say to Jesus.  Maybe they have ¼ cup of faith now and think they would be better off, better disciples even, if they had ½ cup or even a whole cup.  When we read the stories leading up to their request this morning, we understand why they want more faith.  In the five verses prior to our gospel lesson, Jesus has said “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble,” and “If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent’, you must forgive.”  Having heard these two difficult teachings from Jesus, the disciples immediately say “Increase our faith.”

          Jesus is somewhat less than pastoral in his response to his disciple’s request.  To the disciples, who seem earnest in their request for more faith, Jesus says “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.”  Exactly how much faith is faith the size of a mustard seed?  And why would anyone want a mulberry tree to uproot itself and be planted in the sea in the first place?  And if the disciples only need faith the size of a mustard seed, however much that is, their current faith must be invisible to the naked eye.  Jesus answer seems rather unhelpful.

          To make things worse, rather than tell the disciples and us how to have faith even the size of a mustard seed, Jesus says “Who among you would say to your slave…”  Jesus has called people who catch fish and collect taxes for a living, not people likely to have slaves who plow fields or tend sheep.  The answer to “who among you” is probably “none of us.”  That tells us that perhaps the disciples are asking the wrong question. Then Jesus proceeds with an odd and offensive teaching about the relationship between master and slave, which ends with the slaves saying at the end of a day spent serving the master “We are worthless slaves.  We have done only what we ought to have done.”  The whole passage makes little sense.

I wonder if absurdity might be at least part of Jesus’ point.  Perhaps the idea that there are units of measure for faith, and that faith can be increased from one size to another is also absurd.  If we put aside for a moment our offense at Jesus’ reference to slavery, what might we learn about faith from the rest of what Jesus has to say this morning?

Jesus’ point about the slaves is that they were not doing anything special or glamorous with their lives. They were simply doing the work they were given to do.  I wonder if the response to “Increase our faith” is “do the work you have been given to do.”  The reference to slaves, while abhorrent to our ears, is a reminder that, like a slave, we belong to someone else.  We belong to God.  Perhaps faith, rather than something that can be doled out a quarter cup at a time, is something that grows with use.  Just a few chapters earlier, Jesus said “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.”  With the comparison to the mustard seed this morning, perhaps Jesus is telling the disciples that faith is something that must be nurtured and grown, and that the way to grow faith is by living our faith, practicing our faith over and over again by living our lives as people who belong to God.

          Mother Teresa is quoted as having said “Not all of us can do great things.  But we can do small things with great love.”  The people I know who I think of as people of great faith didn’t move metaphorical mountains or uproot metaphorical mulberry trees overnight.  My friend who founded a domestic violence shelter in a small town in West Virginia where all the civic organizations told her there was no domestic violence did this by taking one faithful baby step at a time until there was a fully funded and fully occupied shelter.  My friend who lived with pancreatic cancer for 13 months, lived one prayer at a time, one step at a time.  My friend that works for human rights in a town that is not interested in protecting human rights takes two steps forward and one step back, or one step forward and two steps back, but he keeps at the work, one small step at a time.  In all cases, their faith grew as they practiced their faith one small step at a time and did not give up.

          The disciples say to Jesus “Increase our faith.”  But there are no units of measure for faith, enough of which will give us the ability to say to a metaphorical mulberry tree “Be uprooted and planted in the sea.”  I think what Jesus says to the disciples and to us is “Grow your faith by practicing your faith one baby step at a time, you will change the world.” 

                                                                   Amen.