A Meditation on the Lord’s Prayer

Luke 11:1-13

We don’t know how to pray.

But it’s part of what we do every sunday.  It’s part of what we do when we’re in trouble, or when we are concerned about someone, or when we are really grateful.  We utter, “God.  Help them.”  “Jesus Christ, be present.”  “Thank you, God.”

But I don’t always think about why I pray or what the purpose is.  I certainly don’t have a formula for it.  I do it reflexively.

About six years ago, Jason, a friend to many in this congregation, was dying of leukemia.  He had two very young kids, and at the time that we were called together to pray for him, he only had a few weeks to live.

His wife and the folks at a nearby Mennonite church, where Jason attended, called us together and we together asked God to heal Jason.  I went to the prayer service a little dubious.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this kind of praying.  But I went.

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  Sitting in that room, asking God to heal Jason.  I didn’t know if I could believe that it was possible.  I remember leaning over to a friend and asking, “Do we really believe God can do this?”

We don’t know how to pray, or why we do it.

I don’t know how to pray.  And I don’t always understand the point of it.

And I take some consolation in that, because the disciples didn’t know how to pray either.  They asked Jesus, even after following him for quite some time–Lord, teach us how to pray.

It wasn’t like it was it was their first week with Jesus–they’d been following him, learning from him for some time.  And in all that time with Jesus, they still had not grasped it.  So, they asked Jesus to teach them how to pray.

There were other teachers out there that were praying–there is a reference to praying in the way of John the Baptist.  Rabbis had certain ways of praying.  And Jesus disciples’ wanted to know how to pray in the way of Jesus, their Rabbi and teacher.

And so Jesus taught them.  He said, “Pray like this”

Abba God, hallowed be your name!

May Your reign come.

Give us today tomorrow’s bread.

Forgive us our sins, for we too forgive everyone who sins against us;

and don’t let us be subjected to the Test.’”

God, may your name be holy

May your reign come

Give us what we need to live

Forgive us and help us to forgive

Save us from trials and tests.

Here’s what I notice about this prayer–these are all things that are true whether we pray or not.  God’s name is holy, whether we treat is as holy  or not.  God’s reign is here, whether or not we ask for it.  God cares about our needs whether we ask for them to be met or not.  God has already forgiven us, whether or not we ask.

These are prayers for a present reality.

And these are the prayers of the followers of Jesus.  They are a confession of the current and future reality.  They are an affirmation of what is and what will be, and they speak into the difficulty in our ability to see it.

This prayer is a liturgy.  This is what we do in worship every week.  We praise, we confess, we proclaim, we share, and we pray so that we will turn our hearts away from the principalities and powers and towards our true God, towards the one who is really in charge of things.

We pray so that our sights can be set on what is true and good and right.

We pray so that we have the eyes to see what is real, what is already here.

Jason wasn’t healed from his leukemia because we gathered to pray.  At least, he wasn’t healed in the way I wanted him to be.  The more I know about life and death, the more I think that with death comes healing of other kinds.  But what I saw as we gathered to pray was a community leaning into God, and God leaning into the hurting people that surrounded Jason and his family.  I saw a glimpse that day of the reign of God, present and future, in the people gathered to pray.  God leaned in, listened to our prayer, and showed us the heart of God as we prayed.

Let us pray without ceasing, living into the hope and reality of God’s reign, of God’s provision, of God’s forgiveness now and forevermore.  AMEN.

Moved in our Guts

Sermon based on Luke 10:25-37

I owe many thanks for this sermon to James Alison for his article, ““Like being dragged through a bush backwards”: Hints of the shape of conversion’s adventure.”

Several weeks ago, my daughter found a sick kitten in the backyard.  It appeared that the 3 week old baby kitten had been abandoned by its mother, and had gotten stuck between our fence and our neighbor’s cence in the backyard.

Moved by the sad mewing of the kitten, she dragged me from the kitchen to the backyard.  “We have to help this kitten, mommy.”

But I had to cook dinner.  I had my own people to take care of.  The needs of this little abandoned kitten did not matter to me–they did not move me.

My daughter made it impossible for me not to care.  So we tried to figure out how to get this kitten out from between the fence.  Eventually, and to our great relief, the kitten freed herself, and we found her laying in the backyard.  She wasn’t moving and she didn’t respond to our attention.

I watched something happen to my child in the process of trying to free this kitten and then respond to its condition.  She was moved with a deep compassion, a compassion that came from her guts.  I watched it move from deep inside of her, and pour out of her body.  I watched it move her to take her favorite little blanket and wrap the kitten up.  It moved her to hold vigil next to this kitten every moment that she could in the next few days.  She fed this kitten with a eye dropper, she cleaned her fur, and she nursed her back to health.  And she involved all of us in the house–whether we we fond of cats or not–into the care and vigilance of this defenseless little creature.  And now, yes, we have a 3rd cat living in our house.  And this kitten brings us great joy as she nips at our ankles when we walk and curls up around our necks when we rest.

The kitten–named Lucky–is a constant reminder of the moment I saw deep compassion personified, made real right in front of me.  It was visceral and involuntary, it came from deep within, and it moved her to action.

In our story today, Jesus met a lawyer who had some legal and theological questions for Jesus.  “Teacher” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

You ever thought about this phrase–”inherit eternal life”?  Inherit is a word used by insiders and it is about a wealth that is passed down.  And “eternal life” is a way of referring to the inner life of God.  So inheriting eternal life is about being an insider in the life of God.

And Jesus responded to this legal question by asking a the lawyer two questions–”What is written in the law, and how do you read it?”  Jesus is asking the lawyer not just for what the law says, but how he understands what the law says.

And, like any good lawyer would do, he responded with the law to answer Jesus question.  Although, I want you to note that he did something really interesting with the response.  He combined two texts–he combined the end of the shema (the central belief of Judaism–Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength) with levitical code– “Don’t bear a grudge against the son of your own people, but love your neighbor as yourself.”

The lawyer combines these two verses, and in doing so, he interpreted the law.  And in his interpretation and in his allusion to this portion of the levitical code, he made an interesting definition of neighbor.  According to  the levitical code that the lawyer referenced here, a neighbor is the son or sons of your own people, your own tribe.  The definition of neighbor is limited to your own people–those that are like you.

This definition of “neighbor” which the lawyer has already alluded to makes the lawyer’s next question pretty interesting.  He has his own definition of a neighbor already, but curiously, the lawyer asked  Jesus the question that he answered–“And who is my neighbor?”

In response, Jesus posed a scenario.  He told this well known story of the three people that encountered a severely injured man at the side of the road.  Now, I’ve heard plenty of sermons that focus on how bad the priest and Levite were.  But there’s so much more to this story than the Levite and priest, so I’m not going to focus on them.  I want to focus on the Samaritan today.

You should know that the Samaritan people were not loved by the Israelites.  They shared some common scriptures beliefs and practices, but worshiped at a different holy place, and understood the scriptures differently. Because of these differences, Samaritans were not popular among Israelites.  Jesus could have chosen anyone in this story but chose to use this particular people group in this scenario.

The Samaritan approached the injured man, and was moved with compassion.  The word this for moved with compassion is interesting–it means, more accurately, “viscerally moved” or “moved in the guts” or “gut wrenched.”

The Samaritan was moved in his guts.  The inside of the life of God burst forth out of him.

Perhaps that sounds strange to you–that the inside of the life of God burst out of the Samaritan man.  I’d like to make a strong–albeit gross–case for this.

In temple sacrifice in ancient Judaism, the priest would be part of the animal sacrifices.  As part of that role, the priest would eat a portion of the animal sacrifices–the choicest of the meats.  At certain of the festivals, the priest would eat the entrails of the animal that they were sacrificing.  This piece of the animal–the entrails–was also referred to as the “portion of the lord.”  The guts were the Lord’s portion, and eating them is taking part in the life of God.  This is a reference that the–in the telling of this story–the Jewish community would understand.

In this good Samaritan text, Jesus does a little reinterpreting of the the law himself. Participating the in the life of God–in eternal life–is no longer a priestly act, but something done by the anyone.  It’s especially shocking in this case that this is done by a Samaritan, a member of a people group that was hated by the Israelites.

After Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan, he asked the lawyer a perplexing question.  You might expect him to ask the lawyer the same question the lawyer asked earlier–“Who is your neighbor?” That’s the question that Jesus was originally asked to respond to.  Instead, Jesus asked the lawyer, “Who acted like a neighbor in this story?”  The question is not who is the receiver of the Samaritan’s benevolence, but who is the enactor of neighborliness.

Or–to say it another way and to relate it to the guts–who is the one living from the inner life of God?  Who’s moved in this guts, from the portion of the Lord, to be a good neighbor?

The lawyer’s answer is–again–a lawyerly one.  It’s a quote from scripture with interpretation.  The lawyer responded to Jesus’ question, “who was the neighbor” by saying “the one who shows mercy,” “or the one who shows compassion.”  Or—to put it another way, the one whose compassion explodes from his guts.

The lawyer responds to Jesus question by referencing Hosea 6:6.  “I desire mercy not sacrifice; the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”  The lawyer was making a statement about the systems to which he was a part.  The sacrifice system is not what God desires; God wants our compassion.  God wants the inner life of God, the portion of the Lord, the eternal life which we have inherited, to burst forth from us.

And Jesus said what perhaps the lawyer is least wanting to hear–Jesus said, “Go and do likewise.”  Let your guts explode with compassion, let the eternal life that is within you burst forth.  Go and do likewise.  Move from this system of sacrifice to one of mercy.

This is a difficult thing that Jesus is asking.  This is a painful transformation that Jesus is expecting.  Because the more we love, the more our heart becomes fleshy; the more our heart becomes fleshy, the more alive we become.  The more alive we become, the more raw and painful the world seems, even if we also find that the world is more rich and interesting in the process.

Sacrifice is easier than mercy.  Sacrifice has rules and boundaries.  Sacrifice has a beginning and an end.  Mercy has no boundaries, no limits. Compassion does not discriminate.  It cannot be stopped by the rules we have created, or the systems that have been put in place by the powerful.

The story of our family’s encounter with our kitten in the backyard is a simplistic one.  But it was a reminder for me of the kind of heart that God longs for us to have–a fleshy, raw and open heart, full of mercy. A heart of compassion that does not discriminate based on skin color (or fur color).  God longs for us to have hearts of compassion and mercy.

And how does this happen?  I’m still trying to figure all that out.  But here’s what I’m starting to think–we have the heart of God by living into the life of God, by being a part of the work of God.  We have hearts of mercy by engaging in the eternal life of God, the life that is your rightful inheritance, as people of God.   Let us, as people of God, go and do likewise.  AMEN.

Not the Fluffy Teddy Bear Jesus

Sermon based on Luke 9:51-62 and Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Jesus’ action are often easier to embrace than his words.  It’s easier to bear what we see from Jesus rather than what we hear.  We can interpret his actions, and often they can be what we want them to be.  Wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t have to read the words of Jesus where it seems like he’s being mean and harsh?

Personally I’d prefer the cuddly teddy bear Jesus texts–where Jesus heals people, says nice things, and makes people feel good and warm inside.

But Jesus isn’t nice here–he’s harsh.  He says things that are hard for us to hear.  What do you mean, Jesus, that there are some that are not fit for the kingdom?  What do you mean, Jesus, let the dead bury the dead?

This isn’t cuddly teddy bear Jesus, this is make a darn choice Jesus.  This is “are you in or are you out” Jesus.  This is harsh Jesus, I have my eyes set towards Jerusalem Jesus.

In this text from Luke today, Jesus had just begun his journey towards Jerusalem.  He was focused on what was to come and he knew that would be put to death.  His path was in focus, and as he encountered his disciples he was calling them into focus.

When we hear texts like the one from Jesus today, it’s easy to react to them.  Jesus seems angry and impatient here.  He seems frustrated by his follower’s legitimate distractions while he has his eyes set on Jerusalem, on the death that awaits him.

The follower says, “I will follow you Jesus, but first let me say farewell to those at home.”  and Jesus said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

It’s hard to make a straight line with a plow when you keep looking back. Farmers need to have their vision fixed towards the horizon, toward the end of the field, to keep the planting lines straight.

You have to choose what you are going to look at.  Are you going to look back or look ahead?  Jesus made his decision–he fixed his gaze on Jerusalem.  He made his decision about what direction he was going.  And now, the followers of Jesus had to make a choice. Where would his disciples fix their gaze?  What direction would they go?

It’s not often that our lectionary texts–the ones from the Hebrew scripture, the gospel and the epistle–speak to each other.  But this week, I heard the conversation between the words of Jesus and the words of Paul, the author of Galatians.

Paul says, “For freedom in Christ has set us free. stand firm then and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.”  For Paul, slavery is an important theme.  It was a common thing in first century Roman culture.  It was what the society was built upon.  The poor relied on those of higher ran and social class to have their needs met, and those folks were indebted to those above them.  Everyone needed a patron, a provider.  And in return you were forever indebted to them.  The God your patron worshipped, you worshipped, the things your patron desired, you were to desire.  As the client, the one in need, your patron didn’t care about you, they cared about your loyalty.  So in exchange for loyalty, they would throw you a bone.

There was also slavery as we understand it–people were in service of their patron when they couldn’t pay their debts.

Paul’ premise was that Jesus came to undo this system.  God was our patron, not some rich family  who had other loyalties and didn’t care about you, but God.

Jesus changed this system from patron client to jubilee, to bearing one another’s burdens.  We look after each other, we care for each other.  We are no longer slaves, but we are one in Christ, and as one body we look after each other, knowing that the love of God flows from us (albeit imperfectly) and we give and receive without expectation of repayment or servitude.

This new system that was part of the early church meant that the followers of Jesus must break their relationships to their patrons–they must remove themselves from the chains of their oppression.  This is one of the reasons that the Roman government came to hate Paul and the early followers of Jesus.  They were destroying the system that enslaved.  They were finding another way, and it was threatening to the whole structure.

Paul’s words in Galatians were in this context.  We are are free in Christ, so let us not become  enslaved again.  Choose your path–the path of Freedom in Christ–and do not stray from it. Keep your eyes on Christ, don’t look back.

These are hard words from Jesus and Paul.  Because I know I am enslaved to so many things.  Aren’t we all?  Don’t we all have things that enslave us?

We are enslaved to technology.  It’s a wonderful tool, and has in many cases made our lives more efficient and helped us to connect better with those we love.  But it can also be the thing we must be looking at instead of focusing on what’s ahead.  Have you ever been to a supper where everyone has their phones out?  I’m guilty of it too, especially if I’m feeling anxious.

We can be enslaved to our economic systems.  Our mortgages and student loans can feel oppressive, and prevent us from doing courageous kingdom work.  If we are enslaved to those payments and our eyes are turned away from the work of God when we must focus on making enough money to cover our bills.

We can be enslaved to our possessions.  The car needs to have an oil change, the computer has a virus and needs new protection, the air conditioner filter needs to be replaced, the dishwasher needs to be repaired, the suit needs to be dry-cleaned.  You get the picture.  The more things we have, the more work we have to do to keep up with them.

We are free in Christ, and yet, we have to admit that there are things that enslave us.  There are things that cause us to keep our hands on the plow, while looking behind us, or making frequent stops on the job.

There are so many things that stand in the way of discipleship, that can interrupt our urge to follow in the way of Jesus.  And Jesus, with his eyes set firmly towards his death, reminds his followers of this.  He doesn’t say it nicely, but quite honestly, there’s no easy way to say it.  There’s no easy way to say that the road to discipleship comes first, that we can’t move forward and look back at the same time.  These are harsh words of truth from Jesus.  And the truth is not always nice.

Christianity is not about the fluffy teddy bear Jesus.  It’s not about feeling good all the time.  It’s about recognizing the hard truth of following Jesus–that in order to plow effectively, we can’t look back.  In order to follow Jesus with our whole selves, we have to recognize those things that can enslave us.  In order to live a life of discipleship, we must embrace the freedom that we have in Christ.

While I’d prefer the fluffy teddy bear Jesus texts, I have to recognize that I don’t always learn the important thing in cuddly times.  I often learn the most important lessons in those times when life is harsh, when the words are not careful of my tender feelings.  I learn what I’m enslaved to when it is named, or when I am finally, painfully, free from it.  I learn how to follow when I find myself heading the wrong way on the path, in the dark without a flashlight.

God, give us the will to embrace the freedom you have given us, to be free from what enslaves us, and to follow you with singular commitment and clarity.  AMEN