Sermon: When and why we pray (July 24, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. 

 Pentecost 7C/Proper 12C
July 24, 2022
Luke 11:1-13

INTRODUCTION:

Last week, in the story of Mary and Martha, we talked about the need for Martha, and also for us, to reorient a distracted and worried heart toward God, in order to find the peace that we crave. One way to do that is through prayer. And today, we will hear lots about prayer! Directly following his encounter with the sisters, Jesus himself will go to pray (something, incidentally, that he does more in Luke’s Gospel than all of the other Gospels combined!). The disciples will be so interested in that, that they will ask him, “Lord, teach us to pray.” They are hungry to be close to God, as Jesus is. 

Our other texts today are also about prayer. In Genesis, Abraham will bargain with God, asking him again and again to save rather than condemn the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. “Come on, Lord, you don’t want to hurt innocent people,” he says. “Please, rethink your plan!” A classic prayer, right? “God, do this thing that I think would be better! Please and thank you!” And the Psalm gives thanks for the times when God has heard our plea, and responded. It’s a pretty strong theme today! So, as you listen to the readings, consider what your own prayers are like. Do you spend more time in prayer asking God for help with things, or thanking God, or confessing, or applauding God’s good work, or simply listening for guidance? What does it look or sound like when God responds (whether that response is a yes, or a no)? Where is your own prayer life strong, or where could it be stronger? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

A couple months back, I invited you to think about your spiritual needs. I hope you did – only a couple people got back to me, but I hope you all thought about it on your own! The council shared some of their own reflections at our next meeting. One spiritual need that came up in various ways was around prayer. A couple folks mentioned that the prayers were their favorite part of worship, and a handful said they wished their personal prayer life was stronger than it is.

Well, they are in good company. Even Jesus’ closest companions had the same desire! I imagine the disciples watching Jesus go off to pray by himself (something that, according to Luke, he did often), and then coming back looking like he has found everything one hopes for in prayer: peace, connection, guidance, intimacy with God. I feel with them the ache of envy that Jesus has found what is to them all too elusive. I sense in them a longing to find this same connection in prayer. And then they ask, “Lord, teach us to pray.” Can you hear the yearning in that request? I can hear it, because I have felt it myself. Like those members of our council who expressed a desire for a deeper, or more intentional prayer life, I also have tried in many and various ways to find this for myself. But it comes and goes. I’m good at praying for or with others, not so good at the sort of prayer that is simply focused on my relationship with God. Practices that used to work well for me have stopped working in my current circumstances, and so I’m always searching for other practices that will work. It feels like I’m on a constant mission to find ways to connect with God. Lord, teach me to pray! 

And here is a passage that can teach us! And there is much to like about this passage. The Lord’s Prayer – I like that part. Here, Jesus gives us a formula, so that when we don’t know how or what to pray, we have somewhere to turn: Recognize God’s name and power. Ask God’s vision to come about. Request daily needs for life and sustenance – and only daily, lest we begin to rely too much on ourselves and forget to return to God each day. Admit the need for help with forgiveness, both asking and offering. And plead for safety from danger. It’s got everything! It’s a good and faithful prayer. Thanks, Jesus!

But the stuff after that… that, I find discouraging. Jesus insists that if we just ask with enough persistence, if we “ask, search and knock,” then we will get what we asked for – not scorpions or snakes, but the good stuff! In theory, I like it. But is it true? Has that been your lived experience? The way we talk about prayer, I’m not so sure. Ever notice that when we pray, and we get the outcome we prayed for (the person is healed, the relationship is saved, the conflict is resolved), we say, “God answered my prayers!” And yet, when things don’t go the way we requested, we are less inclined to claim that God answered. 

Apparently, we have told ourselves, largely because of texts like this, that unless God gives us what we asked for, God either didn’t listen, or didn’t answer, or answered but the answer was “no,” or “not yet.” I am guilty of offering that last response in a desperate attempt to understand the ways of God, but honestly, it doesn’t bring me much comfort. Why would God say no to my perfectly faithful requests? Does God not want the hungry filled, justice realized, our loved ones back at church, a fulfilling vocation that also pays the bills, our diseases healed? I thought these were things God is about, so why would God say “no,” or even “not yet”? Is God so cruel that God wants us to suffer a little longer? Is God saying we’re not praying faithfully enough, or in the right way? Ugh, to say that is getting painfully close to spiritual abuse! It’s your fault, your shortcoming, that is keeping God from responding in the way you want. What happened to a God of grace??

So how, then, are we to understand prayer – both our part, and God’s part? 

First, our part. I love that this exchange starts with the disciples asking for help. They admit that their prayer life is not as it should be. We would do well to start there, too! To be willing to admit, with self-awareness and vulnerability, “I need some help with this one, Lord. Would you teach me?” In fact, let this be our first prayer! Lord, teach us to pray! 

Then Jesus’ response, which begins: “when you pray…” He’s made a big assumption there already, that it is “when” and not “if”! Because let’s admit it: many of us only come to God in prayer when we have a particular need we would like God to address, like some cosmic gumball machine. Insert prayer, receive sweet return. 

But here Jesus assumes that prayer for a disciple is a given, a practice as natural and readily exercised as breathing or blinking. And what if it was? What if we did see every breath, every action, no matter how mundane, as a prayer? Chopping vegetables becomes a prayer of thanks for providence, perhaps a prayer for those who hunger. An agitated sigh reading the news becomes a prayer of lament. What if we trained ourselves to do that, to see every breath and action of our day as a prayer, by setting a reminder maybe 5 times throughout the day, and whenever it goes off, we stop for one minute – just one! – and simply breathe, understanding each breath as a prayer, a communion with God. How might that change our outlook on the rest of our day?

Next, a return to that challenging part of the text: “Ask, seek, knock.” Yes, I know there may be some resentment or discouragement here that what Jesus says will happen doesn’t always happen. We have been knocking on that door, seeking and asking for an answer, for years, and our kid still hasn’t come back to church, or the disease has only worsened, or gun violence keeps getting more prevalent, or the planet continues to warm. What gives, Jesus? 

But that perspective is focused on the outcome of prayer. And while of course we want a certain outcome, I’m not convinced that’s the main point of prayer. The point here is in the asking, the seeking, the longing, and the imperative to come to God with it all. It is an invitation to wrestle and yearn with God as our companion, to trust that God can hold our deepest desires, to trust indeed that in our audacious asking, we draw closer to God, and God draws closer to us. 

And that is the most important point of all. Jesus offers one promise in this text, and only one, and it is not, “You will get the outcome you desire if you pray hard enough or faithfully enough.” It is this: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” Did you catch that? His promise is that, when we come to God in fervent yearning, when we voice our needs and desires to God, and then voice them again, God will give us the Holy Spirit. God will give God’s own self, as our companion and comforter. It may be that the power of Spirit then guides us to a solution, or empowers us to be a part of the answer to our own request, or it may simply be the promise of presence. Whatever the case, in this promise, God will never fail.

Is that enough for us? Is the promise of God’s Spirit sufficient for us, when we come to God in prayer with our deepest desires? Or do want stuff from God, a fix from God, more than we want God’s own self? I admit sometimes the latter is exactly what I want! It’s a lot easier, after all, for God just to take care of it – to change other people’s hearts and other situations until I get the outcome I yearn for – than for God’s Spirit to transform me, and empower me to be a productive answer to my own prayer. It would be easier, yet who said a life of faith was easy? 

And so here is my prayer this week: That I could trust that God’s presence with me in the brokenness of this world would be sufficient for me. That my trust would allow for enough vulnerability and humility to be transformed. That my transformation would be such that I feel empowered to bring about God’s kingdom. And that I would see God’s promised presence through it all, even in things that didn’t have the outcome I had in mind. Will you join me in that prayer?

Let us pray… Lord, teach us to pray, even through every mundane moment of our day. Make us bold in our asking. And focus our attention not so much on the desired outcome, but on the ways you are present throughout it all. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Two parts of discipleship (July 17, 2022)

Full service HERE.

Pentecost 6C/Proper 11C
July 17, 2022
Luke 10:38-42

INTRODUCTION

Last week we heard from Luke the story of the Good Samaritan, which begins with the statement that we are to love the Lord our God with heart, mind, soul, and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves, and ends with that famous line from Jesus regarding being a good neighbor: “Go and do likewise.” Today’s story follows that encounter directly, but today, instead of focusing on the loving neighbor bit, we’ll see what it means to love God. In Martha, we will see the “doing” part of loving God that many of us are so good at, but in Mary, as she sits at her Lord’s feet, we will see the listening and loving God part that sometimes comes less easily. So as you listen today, look for anything that might help you in the difficult work of listening to God. Where do you hear God? How do God’s word and God’s voice become apparent in your life? What in today’s scriptures speaks to you, or perhaps comes through to you as something you need to hear from God this day? Let’s listen.

[READ]

"Mary and Martha," by Grace Rehbaum, age 6
(drawn during worship)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

The other day, I was bustling about my home, as I do, cleaning up, making food, getting people ready to get out the door, while my family sat on the couch having some interesting conversation about history or something. I was growing increasingly frustrated and stressed that no one was helping me. Finally, I walked in the room, flustered, and blurted out something like, “Would someone please help me??” Michael, in a genuine effort to help me calm down, said, “Relaaaax,” but I shouted all the more, “Telling me to relax only annoys me more! No one calms down just because someone tells them to!” 

So… yeah, I resonate with Martha in today’s story.

My guess is there might be some other Marthas out there among you?

Because of that, my guess is there might be others out there who hear this story and think it is not really fair for Jesus to be chastising Martha for tending to all those tasks. Someone has to do it, after all! Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all spend our days in Bible study, instead of doing the dishes! Couldn’t Jesus have maybe suggested they all chip in and give Martha a hand?

Yes, it sounds an awful lot to this “Martha” like Jesus is chastising Martha for being a busybody while Mary just sits there and listens to Jesus. 

But, on closer look, I don’t think that is at all what is happening here. In fact, you’ll notice that Jesus doesn’t even comment on Martha’s faithful work of service. See, his observation is not about her actions, but on the state of her heart. Not: “you’re being a busybody, Martha,” but rather, “You are worried and distracted by many things.” And that is a very different observation! 

With that in mind, let’s take a closer look. First, let’s paint the scene. It is not actually clear that this scene takes place in Martha’s home. The phrase “into her home” is not in the earliest manuscripts, so this was likely added later. And you’ll notice Mary doesn’t say anything – she may not actually be there. The Greek verb tense Luke uses to say she “sat at the Lord’s feet” (a phrase used to refer to a disciple, who metaphorically sits at the feet of a teacher to learn) indicates that this is not a one-time event, but a repeated one, one Mary does with regularity. So you can see, the picture of this scene is not clear, but here is what we do know: the sisters are engaging in two different parts of discipleship. Mary is engaging in a ministry of study and learning, and Martha is engaging in a ministry of service. The word Luke uses for Martha is “diakonia,” the word from which we get the word “deacon,” a minister of service. So, Martha is a sort of deacon, engaged in some sort of community care ministry. 

But we also know that Martha is not particularly enjoying her service. Luke tells us she is “distracted” by her ministry. It’s not clear why she is distracted, or what is distracting her. But if I may project myself once more on this story, here is my typical response when I am feeling stressed or anxious or distracted by my many tasks: I make lists, I go into hyperdrive, and I get incredibly frustrated when people around me don’t do their part. (Refer to my earlier story!) In short: I try to bring order to the chaos, in hopes that these efforts will bring my heart the peace that it craves. And often, this effort (and others’ apparent lack of interest in it) stresses me out even more. Anyone else? 

Perhaps that is what is motivating Martha. If she can bring order, she thinks, she can assuage her anxiety and frustration. She powers through, serving more and more people, tiring herself out, and finally, she triangulates Jesus into trying to get Mary to help her: “Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work? Tell her to help me!” Surely Jesus would help her make right the disorder of the situation!

But Jesus sees that the real disorder is not with Mary’s choice to pursue the ministry of learning. The disorder is with Martha’s heart. Martha has convinced herself, you see, that changing the circumstances around her will bring her the peace and wholeness she craves. Just like I so often convince myself that a clean house and a fully crossed off to-do list will allow me, finally, to rest. That is why I am so irritated by my well-intentioned husband telling me to relax: who can relax when there is so much stress to be had?? But of course, crossing off the to-do list will not change Martha’s heart, which is where the real trouble is, any more than it will change ours. 

And Jesus knows how to get this message through to Martha, and to us, if we have ears to hear.

The first thing Jesus does, is he sees Martha. He says her name – not once, but twice. She is in such a state, you see, that she can’t at first even hear him trying to reach her. Like in my story, I was not in a position to “Relaaax,” because I had worked myself into such a state that I didn’t even feel that anyone saw my efforts or cared. So Jesus gently says Martha’s name, twice, not in a “tsk tsk” way, but in a kindly compassionate way, to let her know that he sees her. 

Having gotten her attention, the next thing Jesus does is to name Martha’s ailment, further proving that he sees her, perhaps even better than she sees herself. And again, her sin is not that she is a busybody. “You are worried and distracted by many things,” he says. Truly, this is the problem. I have often heard this text as chastising and accusing, which hardly seems fair because someone has to do All The Things! But that’s not it. What Jesus does here is name what is causing her suffering: not her tasks, but the worry and distraction with which she does them. 

Here is something interesting I learned about those words, worry and distraction: the root meaning in the Greek of the word “worry” is “strangle” or “seize by the throat and tear.”  The root meaning of the word “distraction” is “a separation or a dragging apart of something that should be whole.”  These words evoke an image of woundedness and fracture.  They are states of mind that leave us fragmented, lacking wholeness. Jesus identifies that Martha is in such a state of fragmentation. It has left her unable to enjoy his company and savor his presence. Further, she is unable to find the usual joy and inspiration in her work, nor to receive anything Jesus might offer her. Indeed, she is unable to show him genuine love. Instead, she questions his love (“Lord, do you not care?”), she focuses on herself (“My sister has left me to do all the work by myself”) and she triangulates Jesus (“Tell her then to help me.”) 

With this insight, I begin to wonder: what am I losing, how am I suffering, spending so much energy on my worry and distraction? 

We all crave wholeness, right? We all want balance, and peace, and contentment. But our worries and distractions consume our minds and keep this peace out of reach. Worst of all, we thought our worries and distractions were helping us! We worry, so we seek distraction from our worries, and keep ourselves busy tending these external things, instead of tending to the state of our hearts. 

Jesus’ last move here, made only after he makes sure Martha knows she is seen for her efforts and her struggle, is that he offers her a different way. “There is need of only one thing. Mary is doing it – see? That choice will bring her life, peace, and wholeness, the sort that won’t be taken away.” Suddenly it becomes clear that all those efforts we make to bring order to our external circumstances will not bring lasting peace to our hearts. We think, “If I could only change this situation and that mess and those people, fix them, and make them the way they should be, then I will find personal peace.” But that’s a lie. That will never work to bring lasting peace to our hearts. Lasting peace comes from a change inside ourselves, not from changes in other people or external circumstances. Lasting peace comes from dwelling in the Word, from time with Jesus – perhaps in the form of contemplative prayer, or reading and reflecting regularly on scripture. These efforts won’t change our circumstances, but they will change the state of our hearts, and how we respond to our circumstances. That peace, that effort, in Jesus’ words, is the “better part, which will not be taken away from [us].” 

You see, there is nothing inherently wrong with serving others – indeed, this is good and faithful and necessary! As we heard last week, loving and serving our neighbor is foundational for our faith! But this part must go hand in hand with the work of loving God, dwelling with God, listening and learning “at his feet.” This is what will orient or re-orient our hearts and minds toward the God of life, and will, even when things get stressful and difficult, bring us the peace and wholeness that allows us to love and serve one another. 

Let us pray… God of peace, we are worried and distracted by many things. Orient our hearts toward you, so that we would find the peace and wholeness that only you can bring, and so that we could serve with joy. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: The one who showed him mercy (July 10, 2022)

Pentecost 5C/Proper 10C
July 10, 2022
Luke 10:25-37

INTRODUCTION

Last week we heard a lot about the kingdom of God – what it is like, what it is not like, and how to proclaim it. This week, right on the tails of Jesus sending out 70 of his followers to proclaim the kingdom, and their return, we hear a very familiar story, the Good Samaritan, which gives us a concrete example of what it would look like if we did, indeed, love our neighbor. The familiarity of this tale has perhaps diminished how very scandalous it is! Today, as you listen to the first readings, hear that God’s law and hope for us has not changed since the Israelites entered the Promised Land; give thanks in the Psalm that God is present with us as we strive to live God’s word; and hear in our reading from Colossians a prayer for you as you strive to live a life of faith. Then, as you listen to the story of the Good Samaritan, place yourself in the story – not as the hero, the Samaritan, but as one of the other characters. Maybe the guy in the ditch, or one of those who crosses the road, or the innkeeper. For that matter, maybe you’re the lawyer asking the questions at the beginning. As you listen, imagine your character’s thoughts and feelings as this all plays out. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 

I read an opinion piece in the New York Times a couple weeks ago entitled, “America the Merciless.” The author, Pamela Paul, argues that a defining characteristic of our country is our lack of mercy for our own citizens. She cites several examples, including lack of access to affordable health care, the amount of gun violence, and several recent Supreme Court decisions, but she focuses mostly on prohibitions and restrictions around euthanasia (aka “mercy killing”) and our criminal justice system (America has the highest incarceration rate in the world). For the latter, she refers to the book-turned-movie by Bryon Stevenson, Just Mercy. The article includes this quote from the book: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.”

I have been mulling this over these past couple weeks as I’ve been thinking about the parable of the Good Samaritan. It’s such a familiar parable, even to the point of its title being colloquial, that we may not anymore notice the details. But this week, after reading that New York Times piece, I noticed anew how the lawyer, in the end, answers Jesus’ question, “Who was a neighbor?” with: “the one who showed him mercy.” 

First of all, did you see what Jesus did there? You remember, the original question the lawyer asked was, “who is my neighbor?” As in, who am I supposed to love with all I’ve got? The implied answer to that question is: anyone! Especially, anyone in need. But Jesus flips the question, instead asking back, “Who acted like a neighbor?” So not, “who should I love?” but instead, “how should one love? What does love look like?” And the answer the lawyer rightly gives is: “The who showed him mercy.”

And that is worth dwelling on for a moment. I know I usually assume “love your neighbor” means “care for your neighbor in need.” And, yes - but that’s not exactly what he says here. The neighbor here is “the one who showed mercy.” And so, Christian love and service must be rooted in mercy.

Mercy is not a word we use much outside of church, which is why the title of the article I mentioned caught my attention. Even in church, we mostly use “mercy” in reference to God. God is merciful. But mercy is, really, at the root of so many Big Moral Issues, and questions about how to act in a Christian way in this complicated world. 

So then, what is mercy, exactly? Let’s first look at what mercy is not. Listen again to that quote from Stevenson’s book: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.” Fear and anger are the culprits that lead to lack of mercy, leading us instead toward vindictiveness, injustice, and abuse. While Stevenson is writing about incarceration practices in America, we can imagine this playing out in the parable. The first two people who pass by the man in need – why do you think they pass by? They are religious men, after all, who would have known well the same law the lawyer cites to Jesus: to love God and neighbor as yourself. So then why didn’t they stop? I suspect there is some self-preservation instinct at play – they likely know that this road from Jerusalem to Jericho is a dangerous road. A common trick was to beat someone up, and leave them as bait for some merciful passer-by, and then beat and rob that person too. But what is that self-preservation rooted in? Fear. Justified fear? Yes, of course! But don’t we always think our fear is justified? That’s why we don’t pick up hitch-hikers, or invite the homeless we encounter to come and live in the ample space in our own homes, or even speak up in public on behalf of someone in need if it might harm our reputation. We have a healthy fear. We weigh the consequences, we decide on what is safest, and we act (or don’t act) accordingly. 

Or maybe the reason the two men don’t act is the other reason Stevenson mentions: anger. I don't know that that’s what is going on in this story, but I do know that I am guilty of this, too, sometimes. I let my anger about something or someone fester to the point that when something bad happens to the person or situation causing my anger, there is a vindictive part of me that says, “Good. They deserve it.” And no, in these situations, I don’t feel inclined to help or have mercy.

I know (and feel) that there is a lot of anger and fear in our country right now. People fear for the future of their rights. They are angry at injustice. Many are fearful that we are so divided, and feeling so helpless and increasingly hopeless, that the only way out of this will be civil war. These fears and angers are justified. BUT… we must not let them rob us of mercy. Listen again to this quote: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.” This is what a lack of mercy does to us as individuals and as a country.

So how do we combat all of that – vindictiveness, injustice, abuse, and self-condemnation? We cultivate mercy, in our individual lives and in community. Knowing now what mercy is not, let’s define what mercy is.

Mercy sometimes means kindness. It is noticing that your waitress is having a rough day, and so you don’t tell her your order is wrong, and instead you tip a little extra. 

Mercy is sometimes forgiveness. It is a willingness to hear someone’s genuine apology, and choose to believe them, and to release the grudge over them.

Mercy could look like grace. It is choosing not to shame someone publicly, but instead coming to them in private to correct them gently, using the opportunity to build the relationship instead of damage it. Mercy does not undermine or overlook the need for holding someone accountable, because accountability can be merciful – it can be exactly what helps set someone down a more life-giving path. But mercy does offer accountability without shame. 

Those are all important expressions of mercy that we can and should strive for. But the mercy that I’m thinking about especially this week is mercy as the action that springs from compassion. This is what we see in this parable, and it is the sort of mercy that can help us deal with the division and the moral issues we face as individuals and as a country. 

And my friends, I admit to you that no matter how many times I have returned to this sermon in the past week, this is where I get stuck, every time. I’ve rewritten this sermon several times, and each time, I run into this wall. Because I confess, as your pastor, that I am struggling these days with having compassion for the people who are causing me to feel that fear and anger that can, as Stevenson observes, “make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy.” If showing mercy for someone – even someone I despise, as a Jew would a Samaritan, or vice versa – if that is what makes us a neighbor, then I confess that I am struggling to be a neighbor. 

Oh, I have lots of good, faithful, justified reasons for this, don't you worry (and like the lawyer, I’m awfully good at trying to justify myself). Those people are abusing their power, I think. And those people are liars. And those people are doing just fine, only caring for themselves, and have no compassion for the people I think they ought to have compassion for, so why should I be compassionate and merciful toward them? They surely don’t need my care!

But here’s the thing: if, in my justifying my lack of mercy for these people, I have discovered all the things that are, in my mind, wrong with them… then it sounds like they could indeed use my mercy and compassion. Because I know from personal experience that my less attractive qualities usually rear their ugly head when I am suffering in some way – when I feel something lacking, or I feel uncared for, or tired, or stressed. When I am not my best self. Those are the times when I really could use some mercy. That’s not to say that I, or they, should not also be held accountable – remember, accountability can be an act of mercy. Just that this accountability is rooted in compassion and mercy for their struggle, their suffering, whatever it may be.

I’m grateful every day that I receive this mercy from my God, who relentlessly listens, and guides, and cares, and forgives, and gives me another shot to get it right. I receive God’s mercy every single day, and Lord knows, that can’t always be easy! Yet it is also a daily reminder that what the lawyer in this story says is true: to be a neighbor, to love God and neighbor with all that we’ve got, is to show mercy. And as Jesus says, when we do this, we will live – not just eternally, but right now. We will, today, find what it means to have life. May God, who is gracious and merciful, full of compassion and abounding in steadfast love, grant us the will and the strength to do it!

Let us pray… Merciful God, you often put people in our paths who cause us to feel more anger and fear than love. In these times, soften our hearts to feel mercy and compassion, so that we might be a neighbor. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.