Salem Sermon Archive
Pentecost 18C Sermon
September 25-26, 2010
18th Week-end after Pentecost
Luke 16:19-31
Salem Lutheran Church
Sycamore, Illinois
I, for one would rather not hear Jesus' words today as especially meant for you and for me. For you and I, at first glance, are neither the rich man in this story nor are we Lazarus. To be sure, on any economic scale we're familiar with, we fall somewhere inbetween. So at first it would be easy to dismiss Jesus' words as not meant for us…
Only I haven't been able to do that for a very long time. Let me tell you why.
I was a student still. Living then in a church apartment in North Minneapolis. My room-mates and I lived there free of charge, in exchange for opening the building in the morning, checking to be sure the doors were locked late at night and taking a walk through the building and glancing into every nook and cranny to be sure no one had made their way in during the day who hadn't made their way out by night fall. Mostly all we ever encountered were bats who had been stirred out of their hiding places by the large fans in the church tower in August… but now and again a homeless person had found his way into a pew where he hoped to spend the night safe and warm.
For you see, North Minneapolis is and was not the kind of neighborhood anyone from here would much want their 25 year old daughter living. Only my folks didn't especially know that it was a neighborhood marked by poverty and crime and the kind of fear that lives in every heart when both are present.
Only we weren't there most of the time. We'd get up early and unlock the doors and head across town to school where we would spend the day learning and interacting with others preparing to be leaders in the church. And most days? Well, we'd be getting home long after the neighborhood settled down. And most significantly perhaps, long after the people in the soup line that would make its way past our front door had been fed and the pots and pans cleaned up and put away.
Most of the people who worshiped in that Lutheran Church didn't live within walking distances of that building like their ancestors did. They didn't have a whole lot of connection or commitment to their neighbors; but they did allow their kitchen to be used on week nights to be sure that the hungry were fed.
So now I tell you the truth. I was a little afraid of the people who lined up to be fed every night. My world seldom intersected with theirs and I wasn't all that unhappy most days to miss that line of children and old people, singles and families who came to have their hunger satisfied. And when on that rare occasion I did happen to come home early, usually I would take a side door in and make my way to our apartment --- avoiding too much contact with these who lived so differently than I.
Only one day, this is how it was. One of the men in line stepped out of line. He blocked my way to the side door and proceeded to scream at me using words I had seldom heard directed my way. Now I know he was probably mentally ill. Still then I only experienced surprise and fear as his outburst forced me to lift up my head and look into his eyes. And then into my own heart to acknowledge the indifference that lived there.
Now here's what I don't want you to do today. Every time I've had occasion to share this story, I've gotten a whole lot of sympathy from those who've heard it. Yes, it would be only normal to experience fear in the face of such an encounter. And no, of course, I hadn't necessarily done anything wrong to deserve this. But here's the point. Neither had the rich man in Jesus' parable done anything particularly wrong. At least we don't hear that he did. His sin was that of indifference. Of turning the other way. Of not feeling and responding to the pain of one over whom he apparently had to step on his way about his business every morning, noon, and night. His sin was that of allowing himself to be so utterly closed off from all this world God made --- from its joys and its hurts and all the variety of people God had created and placed alongside him. And to be sure, the rich man's sin was still seeing Lazarus as his inferior --- one whom he could order around --- even after their fates had been sealed. His sin was in not seeing Lazarus as the child of God that he was.
So it's no easy word that comes to us today. And it's easy to turn away from it, thinking that one person, or twelve people or even three hundred people can't begin to address the kind of need that's represented by Lazarus today. It would be easier to believe it has nothing to do with us; but then we would only be taking one more step towards sealing ourselves off into a kind of hell of our own making. One where the needs of others are felt as threats and not as opportunities to live as the whole people God made us to be. The rich man's sin was his indifference. It took a screaming, hungry, homeless person to shake me out of mine. And every single day since I find I must intentionally stand still to seek to listen to and look at the needs of the world with the eyes of Jesus and not my own. And many days still I find I must ask for the forgiveness of the One who made us all and loves us all the same, trusting that God will give me yet another chance tomorrow. And every single day I pray that God will take away my indifference, my fear, my lack of hope or confidence and help me to live as one who sees and gives and loves in this life now.
And so it happened again this week. I shared with you a while back about a conversation I had with the counselors at Sycamore's middle school… wondering with them about whether there might be hungry kids there… and wondering if we might be a part of helping meet that need. I got a call back on Tuesday. They haven't had time yet to work through all two hundred children who are on reduced and free lunches to measure their need… but one of the counselors called to tell me that she has four hungry kids. Four youngsters who are going hungry more often than not from Friday night to Monday morning: those days when school lunches aren't available. And can we help? And so Tuesday night I mentioned it at our council meeting here and by noon on Wednesday I had enough backpacks for those four kids and a couple to spare. And on Friday we packed up peanut butter and jelly, bread, pancake mix and syrup, spaghetti and sauce, some canned fruit and some soup and took them to the middle school to go home with those kids for the week-end. It's just a start and we most likely will wind up with more kids who need help, but for now God has sent us four. Four youngsters whose parents are weeping because they can't feed them. Four children of God, made in the image of God just like you and me. Four children who much like Lazarus, live just outside our gate, just down the street, whose hunger we've been called to feed.
So yes, I expect this story is about us in the end. Our prayer must be that God would do what God must do to wake us up, to stir us to see and hear and live and love more fully now… that we might not find ourselves enclosed in hells of fear and indifference of our own making even now. To be sure, we are confident that God will forgive us when we don't --- but still we give thanks that God promises to keep putting Lazarus in our paths… For the sake of Lazarus, to be sure. But perhaps even more for our own sakes as we find ourselves encouraged to live as the people we are meant to be. Amen.
Pentecost 15C
September 4-5, 2010
15th Sunday after Pentecost
Philemon 1-21
Salem Lutheran Church
I had an out of the ordinary experience at a funeral recently which comes to mind as we approach Paul's letter to Philemon today. Let me set the scene.
The one who died was clearly a person of deep faith… the Bible that was with her in the casket was well worn and her prayer list --- which her family said guided her conversation with God every morning was there as well --- written in her own hand. She had been a part of this congregation a very long time ago --- but from what I could tell her faith experience had led her and her family to worship in ways a little different than what I am accustomed to. This came home to me especially at the end of the funeral… when her grieving husband stood and gathered the attention of everyone in the room.
"There's one prayer that has not yet been answered, " he said, looking at me. And then he said it again, "There's one prayer that hasn't been answered." Then he proceeded to call forward two family members and insist that they forgiven each other then and there and that they seal that forgiveness with a hug --- for this had been her prayer for a very long time. Well they did --- hug each other, that is. To the tears and the applause of everyone in the room. Then Ron proceeded to play the postlude and the crowd --- mostly family --- made their way out and to the cemetery.
It was a wonderful sentiment, to be sure… to want to see his beloved wife's prayers answered then and there. And while it may have worked: I surely can't see into the hearts of the two who were so publicly urged to bury the hatchet --- still it struck me as entirely different from the tone of Paul's letter to Philemon today. For Paul may well have wanted to simply tell Philemon he had to receive Onesimus back as a brother in the faith --- and he surely could have, for he had to the authority in the early church to do just that --- still he did not. For Paul knew that faith is always an invitation. And that responding in faith is always an invitation… that when it's forced, it's hardly authentic, and it seldom lasts.
Let me set the stage though for Paul's letter to Philemon.
The most important piece is this. As reprehensible as it seems to us today, slavery was an accepted part of the economic system of the Roman Empire. Onesimus, by birth or other unexplained circumstance, owed his life, his livelihood, his existence, to Philemon, the recipient of this letter today. He was his slave. Only somehow he had escaped. And somehow had found his way to Paul and while there his life had been changed and he became a follower of Jesus. More than that, Onesimus and Paul had formed some kind of special connection --- a friendship or a partnership of sorts.
We are not told how long Onesimus was with Paul before Paul decided it was time to tend to the unfinished business with Philemon. For regardless of Onesimus having claimed the Christian faith, still by all rights in that time and place, Onesimus still was Philemon's slave. And if Philemon should get Onesimus back he could lawfully add years to the length of his bondage, he could physically punish him, he could even have him executed. Only, as we've heard, Paul doesn't see Onesimus as a slave anymore, but rather as a child, as a brother in the faith… and as we hear in his pleading words today, Paul wants nothing more than for Philemon to see Onesimus, to regard him, to treat him in the same way.
Only as we know Paul doesn't tell Philemon he has to do anything. Instead, what he does is remind Philemon of the relationship the two of them share. He does speak of the gift of Christ's love --- the wonder it has been for him and how we are called then to share that love in real ways. Paul does put his own self on the line, offering to repay anything that Onesimus may owe Philemon. He encourages and suggests and invites, to be sure, but he doesn't tell him what to do.
Paul, Philemon, and Onesimus lived in a tough world. One where their faith called them to make hard choices --- decisions which had real consequences in terms of relationships and economics alike.
And so do we. So do we.
One more story. Again, let me set the background for you. I read a while back that Clinton Rosette Middle School in DeKalb has a backpack program. They work in cooperation with the Northern Illinois Food Bank and what happens is that especially needy families are able to take advantage of this program where on Friday afternoon the middle schooler picks up a backpack full of food for the week-end and on Monday returns the backpack empty, only to pick it up again the next Friday. So we got to wondering if there was a such a need here in Sycamore and I contacted the principal at our Junior High to ask him. He was interested, and suggested that once the school year was underway, I meet with their school counselors to asses whether there is a need.
So on Tuesday I did... sitting down with four hard working people. People who clearly care about kids. People who put their hearts and souls into tending the learning needs and the overall well-being needs of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders who are our children and grandchildren, neighbors and friends. I showed up to push them to think deeper about the needs of those kids even beyond the hours they are in contact with them from Monday to Friday. Especially on week-ends when reduced and free lunches and breakfasts are not available.
Now I say this without judgment, for I can think of a dozen times and more that I've felt the same way --- but here's what I saw when I sat with these four dedicated educators. I saw the struggle in their eyes. For they already have too much to do. And here I was asking them to begin to sort out the extent of such a need. To be in yet one more conversation with up to 200 kids and their families. To think with us about how such a need could be met. I was asking them to love those kids as whole human beings in a real and concrete way --- in ways that would take time and energy and wisdom.
For Philemon, loving Onesimus as a brother in the faith ---- and not just tending to his physical needs as a slave --- it comes at a cost. For a group of Junior High Counselors --- taking the next step in loving those kids as whole human beings --- for the sake of their lives beyond the regular school hours --- it comes at a cost. And for all of us, too. To look beyond what we're obligated to do, what the law or normal rules of conduct tell us we should do, and to treat the world with Christ's own love --- it comes at a cost.
What did Philemon do? We are never told. How will that forced reconciliation at a recent funeral turn out? Time will tell. How will our Jr. High staff respond to my request? That also remains to be told. What shall we do in our work and in our homes and in our neighborhoods with those we know and those we don't know and those we've just met? That story is still being told as well. Whatever else is true, there is no turning back now for we also have heard Jesus' call as our own. We've heard that call to move beyond what we have to do and to respond in faith to love the world as Jesus does. So may God bless our efforts as we seek to live and serve, to love and to give as increasingly we live in this world with the very heart of Jesus. Amen.