Sermon; Advent 2A; Is. 11:1-10, Ps. 72:1-7, Matt. 3:1-12

As I said last week, each Sunday of Advent has a particular theme.  Last week’s theme was Hope.  That hope was reflected in the Collect as we prayed for grace to cast away the works of darkness.  It was reflected in Isaiah’s vision of beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  And it was reflective of the hope we place in living out our convictions and working to make God’s kingdom present here on earth as it is in heaven.

The theme for this second week of Advent is Peace.  When we think about peace, we probably tend to think about the absence of conflict.  And while that is certainly one way to think about peace, that is not the peace of this Second Sunday of Advent.  The peace of this Sunday focuses on the wholeness that Christ brings to the world.  The peace of this Sunday has to do with a deep, lasting harmony that is rooted in the holy presence of God.

This deep, lasting harmony is seen in Isaiah when he writes of the wolf living with the lamb, of the leopard lying down with the kid, and of a time when none will hurt or destroy on God’s holy mountain.  This is a harmony within all of creation not seen since the days of Eden.  This harmony in creation extends to humanity when the root of Jesse will stand as a signal to all nations.

This deep, lasting harmony is seen in the Psalm where righteousness is prominent.  It is envisioned as when the needy will be defended, the poor will be rescued, and oppressors are crushed.  And it is proclaimed through an abundance of peace until the moon is no more.

And like last week, where we might have wondered how an apocalyptic gospel offered hope, we might wonder how a gospel where John the Baptist calls the Pharisees and Sadducees a “brood of vipers” can offer a vision of peace.  Or we might wonder where peace is to be found amidst John’s talk of gathering wheat while sending the chaff off to be burned with an unquenchable fire.

I know I’ve said this before, but it’s important to remember exactly what the difference is between chaff and wheat.  Chaff is the outer husk, or shell, that protects the wheat seed.  All wheat is protected by that husk or chaff for a time.

In some sense we are the same way.  We have all developed coping devices to help us maneuver our way through life and the world.  Whether that involves creating a tough-guy persona, or using our knowledge as a way to exert our dominance or to keep others at bay, or as any number of other coping mechanisms, we all try to protect ourselves.  Although it does seem that the older we get the less we care about what other people think about us.  But we still try to protect ourselves and, I would imagine, we still long for a place where we can be “our true selves.”

But regardless of how thick our shell is, God knows who we truly are.  God wants to gather his wheat into the granary and leave our chaff behind to be burned and never seen again.  If we understand the burning away of our chaff so that we can be brought into God’s holy presence, should that not give us a sense of peace?

The gospel reminds us that Christ is coming to reconcile humanity with God and with each other.  In that reconciling we see the protected, sheltered part of us being brought out, being exposed, and being loved.  There’s a sense of peace in that.  There’s a sense of peace in knowing we are at unity with God and loved for who we are.

This is the peace of this Second Sunday of Advent.

And in that we can see the mission of the Church.  The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.  In doing that we can look for ways to get beyond the chaff of other people.  We can look for the wheat in their lives and we can work to love them as God loves us.  We can do this by extending kindness, understanding, and forgiveness – those things that make up the peace of God.

For our own part, we can work to let go of our prejudices, our anxieties, and our fears.  That might be harder than reaching out to others because, more often than not, it’s us who want to hold onto our own protective barriers, our own chaff.  So maybe this burning of chaff in an unquenchable fire isn’t so bad after all.

Our Vision Statement here at Saint Luke’s is to Proclaim the Love of God and Extend Hope to ALL People.  I’m convinced that the more we do that, the more this place will be seen as a place of peace by others in our community.

In this Advent season may our anxieties melt away so we learn to abide in a deep, lasting harmony that is rooted in the eternal and peaceful presence of God.  This Advent season, may we have the courage to proclaim that peace to those around us.

Amen.

Sermon; Advent 1A; Matt. 24:36-44

Happy New Year!

Today is the First Sunday of Advent and the first day of the new liturgical year

Each Sunday of Advent has a particular theme, and this first Sunday’s theme is Hope.  This hope is reflected in the opening Collect:  We hope for grace to cast away the works of darkness; we have hope that Christ will come again in glory; we have hope that we will rise to life immortal.  Isaiah offers an image of hope when he proclaims people will beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  Isaiah offers hope when he envisions a time when nations will not learn war anymore.  And Paul proclaims hope when he says salvation is nearer to you now than when we first became believers.

The gospel today is one of those apocalyptic, end-time passages which, at first, may not seem to provide images of hope.  Here Jesus talks about people being swept away or taken at an unexpected time.  Unfortunately this passage has been used to (literally) scare the hell out of people.  People merrily ignoring God until drowned by a flood.  People ignoring God until a so-called rapture takes all the right people to heaven while all the wrong people get left behind.  But that isn’t a message of hope, that’s a revenge fantasy.

Where’s the hope in this gospel passage?  Well, let’s pop over to Hebrews Chapter 11, verse 1:  Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

In discussing this gospel passage both Saint John Chrysostom and Hilary of Poitiers said, “We must always be prepared to face the end of life.  We are not given the precise date of the Lord’s return so that we may remain always vigilant.”

Another anonymous source wrote, “. . . every generation should live in the constant expectation of Christ’s return.”  Not fear, but expectations.

Jesus said that the Son of Man would come at an unexpected hour.  This isn’t meant to be used as a story with which to terrorize people or frighten little children.  It’s not meant to be used as some form of “scared straight” propaganda.  Instead, it’s one way that Hebrews 11:1 can make sense.

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Above all else, Christianity is based on the belief that life wins and death is defeated.  With his death, Christ destroyed death.  In his resurrection Christ leads us to new life and unity with God.  Within this is the belief that somehow, in some form, Christ will return.  We affirm this in Eucharistic Prayer A when we say, “Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.”

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for.

The Lord, through Isaiah, gives us an image of a time when nations shall beat their swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, and war will be no more.  We hope for that time and God assures us that it will come.

We hope for the time of the Messiah’s coming, and Jesus assures us that time will come so we must always be vigilant.

And yet, that time of peace seems very far off or unattainable.  The coming of the Messiah sometimes seems like a fantasy.  These things are unseen, but we live with the conviction that they are possible.  We live with the conviction that it will happen.

Advent is the time of the already and not yet.  It is a time of hopeful, expectant, and active waiting.  Christ has already come and is also yet to come.  In this Advent time we live with the assurance of that hope.

But we must also live with the conviction of things not seen.  What would it look like to live with the conviction that the vision of Isaiah is possible?  Saint David’s Episcopal Church in Southfield, MI, is doing that very thing.  They created a gun buy-back program to get unwanted guns off the streets. They are literally turning spears into pruning hooks.

We have an assurance that things hoped for will come to pass.  We must also live with the conviction of things not seen.  But living with that conviction is more than sitting in our pews saying, “I believe.”  Conviction also requires action.

It may not be as dramatic as getting unwanted guns off the street.  Maybe it’s ensuring the Food Pantry always has a supply of personal hygiene items on hand.  Maybe it’s offering tutoring services or free baby sitting for single mothers and/or struggling parents.

In this time of hopeful expectation, maybe we are being asked to do more than wait – maybe we are being asked to live into our convictions and actively work to make God’s kingdom present here on earth as it is in heaven.

In this new year may our hope and conviction in Christ lead us into a place of active waiting.  In this new year, may we have the grace and strength to actively cast away the works of darkness.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 29C/Christ the King; Luke 23:33-43

Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost, also known as Christ the King, or, the Reign of Christ.  As Church feasts and celebrations go, this one is relatively new.  Only 100 years old, it was created in 1925 by Pope Pius XI for two reasons.  First, 1925 was a Jubilee Year in the Catholic Church.  These years mainly consist of universal pardons, and he wanted something special to celebrate the end of that year.  Second, he saw the rise of secularism and ultra-nationalism in Europe and wanted something to remind people of where their loyalties should truly lie.

The date moved around for the first few years but finally settled on the Last Sunday after Pentecost – a date that signifies the culmination of the Church year by recognizing Christ as King of kings and Lord of Lords.  In other words, everything we do from Advent 1 up to now points toward naming Jesus as King of all.

For a celebration focused on Jesus as King of kings and Lord of lords, for one created to combat nationalism and nationalistic movements, you would think today would be inundated with images of the Christus Rex or one of the images from Revelation of the victorious Christ.  And we get some of that in our hymns today where we all hail the power of Jesus’ name and crown him with many crowns.

You would think that, but on this Christ the King Sunday we don’t get the triumphant, resurrected Christ.  On this Christ the King Sunday we don’t get a victorious Jesus ascending to heaven.  Instead, we get an image of Jesus stripped, beaten, whipped, vulnerable, hanging between heaven and earth, and being ridiculed by leaders, soldiers, passersby, and criminals.  This image of a man dying a horrific death is the image of Christ the King we must hold onto.

The world gives kings who are focused on power, domination, and control.  The kings of the world find ways to take what they want and exploit the vulnerable.  The kings of the world rule by the edict of might makes right.

It has been this way from the beginning.  For when the people of Israel demanded a king, the prophet Samuel spoke to them and said, “He will take your sons to serve in his army and plow his fields.  He will take your daughters to be cooks and bakers.  He will take your fields and vineyards and give them to his loyalists.  He will take your cattle and donkeys and you will be his slaves.  And when you cry out to the Lord, he will not answer you.”

There are those who try to become king through whatever means necessary, rampaging through existing safeguards, appointing loyalists to do his bidding, and trampling anyone who gets in his way.  There are those who become king through birth and who are so used to seeing things from that point of view that they don’t see or don’t care about the harm done by them or on their behalf.  And there are those who would make Jesus out to be this kind of king – enthroned in splendor, punishing those named as an enemy, and using a warped vision of Christianity to rampage through a world not to their liking until everyone is subservient.

These are the things Pope Pius XI was trying to combat with the creation of this feast.  These are not the things Christ stood for.  This is not the king we proclaim.  The king we proclaim sacrificed himself to save the world by hanging on a cross.

Whereas the kingdoms of men seek to build walls, the kingdom of God is always open.

Whereas the kingdoms of men seek to expel those deemed different, the kingdom of God draws in all people.

Whereas the kingdoms of men control and limit resources, the kingdom of God sows the seeds of reckless generosity so that all may be fed and healed.

The kingdom of God is based on justice, mercy, and love.  The kingdom of God works to bring restoration to the outcast.  The kingdom of God works to feed, clothe, and heal the hungry, the naked, and the damaged.

If the kingdoms of earth do not work to do these things, then they are not of God.  If the kingdoms of earth claim they are being led by a Jesus who does not do these things, then they are being led by a man-made Jesus idol that simply mirrors their own biases and hatreds.

If we proclaim Christ as King, then we must proclaim the Christ of subversive love.  If we proclaim Christ as King, then we must proclaim the Christ of the Beloved Community.  If we proclaim Christ as King, then we must proclaim Christ as the King of peace.  If we proclaim Christ as King, then we must proclaim Christ as the One who stands against violence, degradation, separation, and hatred.

Proclaiming Christ as King is to make a bold proclamation and to take a bold stand against the corrupt, divisive, and self-serving powers of the world in favor of the Kingdom of love, justice, mercy, and healing.  It is by proclaiming Christ as King in this way that we will take back the definition of the Reign of Christ that has been corrupted, twisted, and co-opted by the powers of the world.

If we do that – unapologetically, boldly, and faithfully, then we just might get a glimpse of God’s kingdom here on earth . . . as it is in heaven.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 28C; Luke 21:5-19

We remember from last week that Jesus is in Jerusalem in what we call Holy Week.  He’s taken on Pharisees, Sadducees, High Priests, scribes, and elders.  And now he’s talking to some people about the temple, the last days, and signs of the times.

Just as Jesus is in Jerusalem and preparing for his last days before his crucifixion, we are approaching Advent, the season of preparation and a season with its own end-times focus.  This is why the lectionary gives us apocalyptic passages at the end of Ordinary Time as Advent approaches.

In biblical terms, an apocalypse is a revealing, a revelation, of the supernatural world beyond what we experience here.  In apocalyptic writings there is often a vindication of God’s faithful people with some form of punishment for people and institutions who have rejected God.  Apocalyptic writings tend to appear when people are suffering, which are used as a vision of hope for life with God and an end to present misery.

In today’s gospel Jesus does indeed predict the end of days.  He says, “As for these things you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”  Someone then asked, “When?  And how will we know?”

Notice that Jesus doesn’t give an answer to that question.  Instead, he gives a list of when it will NOT be and of what not to do.

Be aware of false messiahs and do not follow them.

Be aware of people predicting the end times and do not follow them.

Know that wars, famines, plagues, and earthquakes will happen, but do not be shaken.

Even with these warnings, there have been those who make false claims about being the messiah or these being the end of days.  Those who make such claims have been leading people astray for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. 

False messiahs include people like Jim Jones, David Koresh, or political leaders who claim to be THE answer and demand unfaltering loyalty from their followers.  Those who have claimed to know when the end of days or the rapture will occur include people like William Miller in the 1830’s and ‘40’s, Hal Lindsey in 1985 and beyond, Harold Camping in 2011, or Joshua somebody who put out videos claiming the rapture would occur on September 23 or 24.

All of these people have at least one thing in common:  They’ve all been wrong.  And yet . . . people keep listening to them and following them.

But here’s the thing:  unlike their fantasies of being whisked away and spared from pain and suffering, we are not exempt from the problems of the world.  Neither should we be so arrogant as to think that God loves us more than others, therefore we will be protected while others suffer.

Instead, notice what Jesus does say about the end times:  terrible things will happen and it will be our job to proclaim the good news of the gospel in the face of it all.  And what is the message of the gospel?  It’s the message of love and hope.

Have you ever noticed that those who preach and advocate messages of exclusion, exceptionalism, division, and hate seem to garner the greatest number of followers?  Those people and that message are, for some reason, held up as icons to be followed and emulated.

Those who preach and advocate for love, acceptance, welcome, inclusion, protecting minorities and those at risk, healthcare, and similar things are labeled as pariahs and a danger to society.  But these are the things that are gospel based.  These are the things that Jesus stood for.  These are the things that God cares about.  And it will be preaching and advocating for these things which will get us in trouble with the authorities and wider populace.

So, what are we to take from this apocalyptic vision of Jesus?  Three things.

First, pay attention to what people say and do.  If someone makes claims, or someone makes claims on their behalf, of being a messiah, listen to their words and watch their actions.  Do they speak of justice?  Do they defend the marginalized?  Do they, as our baptismal covenant says, respect the dignity of every human being?  Or do their words and actions run counter to what the gospel actually says?

Pay attention also to those who claim to know the day of the return of Christ or the imaginary rapture.  No one knows that day or hour, and the rapture is nothing more than fantastical fiction.  Anyone claiming otherwise is lying.

Second, natural disasters, man-made disasters, wars, and other calamities will, unfortunately, take place.  We must not be so preoccupied with these in an effort to find an escape that we fail to be present and helpful to those in need.

And third, Jesus says that before the actual end of days there will be a time for witnessing, for proclaiming the message of the gospel, and to stand opposed to those people and institutions who would corrupt the message of Christ.

That last point is important.  You’ve heard me say that, when asked if we’re in the last days, I respond, “It’s always the last days for someone.”  This means that all our days are the last days.  And THAT means now is the time to proclaim the message of Christ – not some far off, unknown, “end of days,” but NOW.

In these last days, then, let us proclaim the love of God and extend hope to all people.

Which, as fate would have it, just happens to be our Vision Statement for this parish.  So let’s get to work.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 27C; Luke 20:27-38

Last Sunday was All Saints’ Sunday.  We not only baptized Astrid and welcomed her into the household of God, but we were also reminded that on that day, particularly, we are joined with the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands who are gathered around the throne of God.  In actuality, that happens every Sunday; but we are particularly aware of it on All Saints’ Sunday when we remember all those who have gone before, who are now, and who are yet to come.  All the saints of God, those we know and those known only to God, are gathered together in one glorious and eternal moment around the Great I AM.  In that eternal moment, we am.

That celebration in which we participated last Sunday, and in which we will participate, leads directly into today’s gospel and the Sadducees question about resurrection.

Resurrection is an interesting concept.  Most of what we think or believe about resurrection, heaven, the hereafter, or whatever term you want to use, comes from literature, popular culture, or bad theology.  Everyone in heaven being 33 years old forever, the rapture, St. Peter greeting people at the pearly gates . . . these are all ideas that were formed to get a grasp of what heaven might be like or who it might include.  And most of those ideas are probably wrong.  The reality, though, is that no one who came back from the dead has told us exactly what it is or will be like.  So we grasp at ideas from what we do know, or what we hope it will be, as we try to make sense of it.

The Sadducees are trying to make sense of things.  They are also, probably, trying to bolster their point of view.  A brief history lesson.

Like Christianity, Judaism was (and is) not monolithic.  That is, there were different groups who held differing beliefs.  Sadducees were a priestly class (maybe deriving their name from Zadok whom King Solomon appointed as high priest) and priestly led, religious life was focused in and around the temple, theologically conservative, and held that only the Pentateuch (Genesis – Deuteronomy) was scripturally authoritative.  They could find no scriptural basis for resurrection within those first five books. 

The Pharisees, on the other hand, were a little different.  It was originally a lay-led movement that focused on personal piety, localized faith practices (hence the rise of synagogues beyond the temple and operating independently), and held that the Pentateuch, Prophets, and Writings (so basically all of what we refer to as the Old Testament) were scripturally authoritative.  It was within these additional books where they found support for a resurrection – such as Job 19:25-26 (I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God.)

The issue of resurrection and the two differing ideas was a deeply contested topic between the two sides.

Let me back up a bit, here.  Remember that Jesus has been intentionally moving toward Jerusalem ever since 9:51 when “he set his face to Jerusalem.”  In the overall context of the story and this chapter, Jesus is now in Jerusalem.  He’s not only in Jerusalem, but this passage takes place during Holy Week.  He’s ridden into town on a colt.  People have waived palm branches and proclaimed him as the king who comes in the name of the Lord.  He’s gone up to the temple, overturned tables, and driven out the merchants and moneychangers.

Chapter 20 of Luke tells the story of Jesus being confronted by the chief priests, scribes, and elders in a variety of efforts to trap him, arrest him, and execute him.  Today’s confrontation with the Sadducees may have been less about trapping Jesus and more about getting him to commit to one side or other of the resurrection debate and hopefully dividing his followers in an attempt to reduce his ever-growing popularity.

The question the Sadducees pose is one of those purely hypothetical “gotcha” questions that have no real answer and which an answer has already been determined by the questioner.  It’s sort of like the grade school question I got asked at recess one time:  “If God is all powerful, could God make a boulder so big that God couldn’t move it?”

Moses wrote that if a man dies before his wife can have children, then his brother is to take her as his wife.  A man had a wife, then died childless.  His brother then married her, and he likewise died.  And so on and so on down through seven brothers, until finally the wife also died.  In the resurrection, whose wife will she be?

First of all, it’s not an honest question because Sadducees don’t believe in a resurrection, so why ask the question other than to make Jesus look bad?

Secondly, and more importantly, it shows that they (like a lot of people today) don’t understand what resurrection is.

We might have ideas about what resurrection is, but most likely it’ll be incorrect.  The widow of Nain’s son, Jairus’ daughter, Lazarus, and others, weren’t resurrected, they were resuscitated.  Basing resurrection on what we know and/or see is basing our ideas on a doctrine that denies death.  That’s what the rapture is all about – whisk me away to heaven so I don’t die.  This question of the Sadducees assumes resurrection is simply a continuation of this life.  And if this life is continued, then it can skirt death.

But a true resurrection theology says that even though we die, God gives us new life.  Among other things, this is why Mary Magdalene and the other disciples didn’t at first recognize the resurrected Christ – because resurrected life isn’t a continuation of this life.  It’s new.  It’s different.  And it’s a shared life with the Great I AM in such a way that we am.

The question of the perpetuation of marriage misses all that.  In the resurrection life doesn’t need to be perpetuated as it does on earth because in the resurrection life becomes eternally unified with God.  In the resurrection we are alive in the Lord.  The Lord is the God not of the dead, i.e. those who need to marry, but the God of the living.  In the resurrection, then, we am, just as God said, “I AM.”

The only thing I can confidently say about resurrection is that life is changed, not ended.  In that change we will be alive in the Lord, living with all the saints and all the host of heaven, eternally unified with God.  And that is good news.

Amen.

Sermon; All Saints' Sunday w/Baptism; 2025

Today is All Saints’ Sunday.  Today, November 2, is also the Feast of All Faithful Departed.  And this day is also one of four set aside as “especially appropriate for baptism,” which we will administer shortly.

There’s a certain mystery around these days that I find appealing.  Friday was Halloween.  Despite what some people or paranoid Christians think, Halloween is not a day of devil worship.  It is, technically, All Hallow’s Eve, the night before All Saints’ Day.  One way to think about this is to think about the Lord’s Prayer.  In that prayer we say, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”  Halloween is the eve of the day when we celebrate those who are hallowed in the faith – the saints who have gone before, the saints who are now, and the saints who are yet to come.

On All Saints’ Day we remember the Saints of the Church, those people who did great deeds or who died heroic deaths.  People like Antony and Athanasius, Elizabeth and Francis, Teresa of Avila and Thomas Cranmer, and so many others.  The observance of a festival commemorating martyrs and Saints of the Church goes back in some form to probably the second half of the 3^rd Century.

And then in the early 10^th Century, people began to realize and recognize that there were many, many Christians who lived out their lives quietly and faithfully in service to the Lord.  These are part of the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands surrounding the throne of God singing, “Blessing and honor and glory and might for ever and ever!”  These are the people whose great work is to live faithfully.  These are the ones who set the altar, clean the church, and sweep the crabapples and snow off the walk.  It was for these people that the day after All Saints’ Day was added to the Church calendar in order to remember them.  That day came to be known as the Feast of All Faithful Departed.

So it is that on this day we remember all the formal Saints of the Church who lived heroic lives as well as all the informal saints of the Church who lived quiet, but no less faithful, lives.

This may seem like an odd time to ask this question, but what is God’s name?  Obviously we don’t know, but when Moses met God in the burning bush, Moses asked, “What shall I say to the Israelites when they ask me the name of who sent me?”  And God said, “I AM WHO I AM.  Tell them I AM has sent you.”

I AM is the best we have for God’s name.  I AM indicates no before, no after, only a perpetual and eternal existence from before time and for ever.

This is what John was seeing in that vision from Revelation.  The myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands are all the faithful people of God – past, present, and future – gathered into one place and moment.  All the saints of God are gathered around God at the crystal sea lost in wonder, love, and praise.  Today that moment is here with us as we celebrate All Saints’ Day and All Faithful Departed.  Today we are gathered with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, as we sing, “Holy, holy, holy Lord.”

And today, into this holy throng, into this gathering of All the Saints and Faithful Departed, into the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, we bring Astrid.

With her baptism she is adopted into the household of God.  With her baptism all the saints gather and welcome her into the beloved community.  With her baptism she is sealed and marked as Christ’s own for ever with an unbreakable seal.  Her baptism, though, is not the end of the story.

As with any birth or adoption, this is but the beginning of her journey.  It will be up to her parents, Brooklyn and Skyyler, to raise her up in the faith, giving her a foundation on which to stand.  It will be up to their church family to help ensure she grows in the faith of Christ.  It will be up to her godparents, Lexi and Jaquez, to help encourage her and pray for her as she grows.  And, at some point, it will be up to Astrid to continue seeking, learning, and growing as a faithful follower of Christ.

For Astrid, her journey is just beginning.  For the rest of us, we have been journeying through the faith for some time.  Maybe, like Astrid, we began our journey as an infant, baptized in the arms of a priest.  Maybe some of us came to the faith later in life.  But, as Jesus illustrated in a few parables and Saint John Chrysostom pointed out in his Easter sermon, it matters not when you arrived, it only matters that you arrived.

Every year on this Sunday we are reminded of the promises and vows we made at our baptism.  These are important enough that we renew our vows at least four times a year.  But this one, on this All Saints’ Sunday when we renew our baptismal vows, we are also reminded of our place in the mystical Body of Christ.  For those who have arrived, either early or late, we are reminded of our place with the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands of saints with whom we are joined in the eternal presence of the great I AM.  We are reminded of that as we baptize Astrid and as she joins us in the household of God, confessing the faith of Christ crucified.

On this All Saints’ Sunday, let us remember that we are joined with saints above and saints below in one great fellowship.  Let us remember that we are part of the myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands who gather together to sing, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.”

And let us welcome Astrid into that holy assembly as we join with her family in helping her take those first steps of faith.

Amen.

Sermon; Proper 25C; Luke 18:9-14

Today’s passage comes during Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem.  Remember, this journey began back at Chapter 9, verse 51, when Jesus “set his face to Jerusalem.”  We are now at Chapter 18.  It’s a long journey and we might experience some . . . drift . . . during the trip.  We may not intend to make wrong choices, or wrong decisions, but if we don’t make course corrections here and there we could find ourselves in trouble.

In last week’s gospel Jesus told the parable of the widow and the unjust judge.  In that story the widow pestered the judge day after day until she was granted justice.  That gospel passage closed with Jesus saying, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith?”

The point of that parable isn’t that God is worn down by our consistent badgering, like a parent being continually pestered by a child for a particular toy.  The point of that parable is that prayer and faith require dedication and commitment.  In our prayers we will most likely be faced with long delays and what we experience as silence.  But within those long periods of silence are times of seeking, knocking, waiting, trusting, and/or anger.  It may be that our commitment to prayer shapes us so that we are ready to accept the answers given when they come.  Prayer is not the quarter you put into the great vending machine in the sky and waiting for your request to drop.  Prayer is a long journey with God that shapes us over time.  And sometimes we get tired of that journey.  This is why Jesus asks at the end of last week’s parable, “And when the Son of Man does come, will he find faith?”

Today’s gospel continues Jesus’ discussion about prayer.

In this parable Jesus gives us a reversal of expectations  It’s a common thought that those who do more than what is expected will be rewarded in some way.  The Pharisee obeyed the law, maybe even went beyond what was required.  It seems that he was doing more than the minimum.  In some respects he is like any faithful parishioner who gives generously of their time, talent, and treasure for the benefit of the church.

In contrast, the tax collector is a national traitor, an agent and enabling partner of a cruel and corrupt system, and a religious outcast.  There is nothing loveable about him.  And while his prayer follows the spirit of Psalm 51, what good is that if he refuses to change his life?  So Jesus, in claiming the tax collector left the synagogue justified while the Pharisee did not, is presenting us with a shocking reversal.

Here's where that drift comes in.  We are all the Pharisee in this story.  We all pledge of our time, talent, and/or treasure.  We all have some kind of prayer practice.  We all, I hope, do our best to love God and love our neighbor.  And because of this, I think, we and the Pharisee have drifted.

We are so used to doing everything right and good that we fail to see where we misstep.  We fail to see where we err.  We fail to see where we sin.  We can always justify that by saying things like, “I’m not that bad,” or, “Others are worse,” or, “They deserve what they get,” or, “Look at all the good I do,” or etc. etc. etc.  As an aside, every Holy Week I offer personal confessions.  In 21 years of ordained ministry, I can count on one hand the number of people who have come to me for a formal confession.  That’s not to shame you, but to point out that we generally think we’re doing everything right – like the Pharisee.

What we miss, though, is an honest examination of ourselves and our actions.

I have a book titled, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.  It’s a collection of sayings from the desert monks of the 4^th and 5^th Centuries.  In these ancient sayings one can find wisdom for the ages.  I suppose when you are a desert monk living in a small space you have lots of time to meditate on God and life.

One of the monks quoted in this book is Abba Moses, and he has two sayings attributed to him that I think are pertinent to today’s parables.

The first is this:  There was a brother of the community who had committed some fault for which the rest of the monks were to judge him.  Upon hearing of the trial, Abba Moses filled a leaking jug with water and walked to the gathering.  When he arrived, the monks asked him about it.  He replied, “My sins run out behind me, like this water, and I don’t see them, and now I’m coming to judge the errors of another.”  With that, the council was disbanded and the brother forgiven.

The second saying is this:  “When someone is occupied with their own faults, they do not see those of their neighbor.” 

The inverse of this is also true, “When someone is occupied with the faults of a neighbor, they do not see their own.”

The Pharisee did not notice his own sins trailing behind him.  Nor was he concerned with self-examination; for if he was, he wouldn’t have condemned the tax collector.  Scripture reminds us in several places that judgment belongs to God.  We know that, but sometimes it seems like we just can’t help ourselves.  We judge people based on their looks, hairstyles, skin color, jobs, cars, behaviors, etc.  And like the Pharisee pointing at the tax collector, none of us really know what’s in the heart of another person.

These two parables point to two things.  The first is our need to make prayer a regular part of our life.  It is through regular, faithful prayer that we will be changed and be found faithful when the Son of Man comes.

The second is that we must be willing to examine our own lives in such a way that we can see our sins trailing behind us and, therefore, become more concerned with correcting our own faults than in pointing out the faults of others.

As Abba Agathon said, “Prayer is hard work and a great struggle to one’s last breath.”

This is our course correction.  May we be so committed to prayer that we not only change the world, but that God changes us.

Amen.