Linked Through Acceptance (Luke 10: 38-42)

 Sermon: “Linked Through Acceptance”

Show of hands: who identifies more with Martha, always working, staying on top of chores, and maybe even feeling resentment towards those who don’t do their share?

And who identifies more with Mary, willing to set aside the chores, for now at least, to be present to what’s happening in the moment?

There’s probably a little of both Martha and Mary in each of us. I know that, for me, in one moment, I can easily ignore those dirty dishes in the sink, letting them sit while I engage in some other, more enticing activity; but when I do get up and start doing chores, I can also easily feel resentment toward those others who are not presently doing their chores…

Which, I guess, makes me a bit of a hypocrite…

And because I have experienced that resentment, I tend to empathize with Martha when hearing this story.

Because, after all, there is work to be done! And Martha and Mary are the hosts of this gathering, so it’s their job to do the work, to complete the chores!

And I feel bad for Martha, doing the work, expecting some praise or at least sympathy; I don’t think she expected that mild reprimand from Jesus. 

But because I do identify with Martha, it’s hard for me to hear Jesus’ words. I want him to praise hard-working Martha, just like I want to be praised and recognized for the times I work hard; but instead, Jesus commends Mary, the one who isn’t helping with the chores, the one who is just sitting…

I look at Mary, and I make the assumption that she was sitting for no other reason than that she just didn’t want to do the chores. She didn’t feel like helping. Because of laziness, perhaps, or selfishness, or maybe obstinance…

And as a result, she wasn’t fulfilling her role as host. She wasn’t practicing good hospitality. She wasn’t doing what she was supposed to be doing.

That’s how things seemed to Martha… and that’s certainly how I’ve tended to read this story over the years.

But the more times that I revisit this story, the more times I hear it, the more I question these assumptions. Was Mary really being lazy? Was she really just trying to find a way to get out of doing her chores (like a spoiled child)? Was she really being a bad, inhospitable host?

The way Jesus responds to Martha makes me question the assumptions I’ve been making about Mary. (Jesus is always making me question my assumptions. If you ask me, it’s his most annoying trait…)

*

Here at First Christian Church, there are a lot of roles that need to be filled, and a lot of chores that need to be done. Fortunately, we have a lot of Marthas willing to take on those roles… I don’t know what we’d do, without them all…

Because in our church, we need people to be greeters, elders, deacons, junior deacons, musicians, singers, team coordinators, small group leaders, food preparers, budget preparers, board members, trustees, check signers, technology gurus, cleaners, fix-it people, children’s ministry leaders, info desk hosts, and so much more… and so many of you have said yes to one or more of these roles…

Without you, this church wouldn’t function. We’d fall apart. So the last thing I want to do is preach a sermon that would discourage any of you from doing the work that we all depend on!

Jesus’s own ministry, likewise, depended on some hard-working people to make things happen; people willing to get the chores done.

 I read something this week by Nadia Bolz-Weber that reminded me that, when Jesus traveled, it wasn’t just him; there was a whole entourage, a whole group of people who traveled with him. 

He had his disciples—the twelve disciples we’re familiar with, but others as well, men and women… And when they all arrived in a new place, someone would have to make arrangements for lodging, and for meals, and for other needs that Jesus and his disciples might have.

In other words, there was work, and chores, to be done, and arrangements to be made…

When Jesus and his disciples arrived in Bethany, the home of Mary and Martha became their headquarters…

Which means that Mary and Martha were called upon to be hosts, and to show hospitality… and hospitality, of course, involves work, and chores.

And Martha was busy doing all those chores, doing all that work, being a good host.

So why did Jesus say that Mary had chosen the better part? Why did he praise her for not working, and encourage Martha to follow Mary’s example, instead of the other way around?

It’s because Jesus understood that there is a time for work and chores; and there’s a time for setting work and chores aside. Jesus wasn’t saying that work and chores should never be done. There’s a time and place for everything. 

So if you were planning to use Jesus to get out of doing your chores—sorry, it’s not that simple… 

*

It’s not the work that is bad, the tasks, the chores; but it’s when we let that work and those tasks keep us from being “present” to those who are our guests; being “present” to Jesus in our lives; being “present” to the ones we are called to show hospitality to.

I’ve seen people who, when guests are over, are too busy fixing meals and setting the table and then cleaning up the table and doing the dishes and wiping down the counters and putting everything away, right away… that they never actually spend time being present with their guests; and their guests end up feeling less welcome, and feeling like they’re in the way, even though the task-doers are working extra hard trying to make them feel welcome.

And I once heard that a good way to show hospitality is not to do the dishes and do all the cleaning right away, by yourself, trying too hard to be the perfect host; but, if there is a task that needs to be done, to invite your guest to join you. “Hey, would you mind drying while I wash the dishes?” This gets the task done, but it also allows you to actually spend time with your guest, enjoying conversation with them; and because you give them the opportunity to help, it makes them feel useful and not a burden…

And you can be present with one another while you both stand at the sink, doing the dishes, together…

In the church, we try so hard to show hospitality and welcome to guests and those who have recently started attending. What if we invited them to join us in some task…Maybe not the first time they are here, but soon after…

I’m not saying we should give every first-time visitor a mop and direct them to the restroom…

But maybe there is some task that would help them feel included, more welcome, and maybe less of a burden…

“Hey, I know you’re new here, but do you want to help me hand out these bulletins?” 

Or, if you’re having a good conversation with someone after worship, say, “I’d love to continue chatting with you, but I need to collect the used communion cups; want to join me?”

This is something we do at church camp.  At Camp Walter Scott, campers are invited to help with some of the tasks and chores at camp. Simple things, like sweeping, wiping down tables before and after meals, emptying wastebaskets, etc. 

Does this keep them from being present? No. If a group of them were sent to the kitchen to prepare meals while the rest of camp gathered for stories or discussion, or even some fun, all-camp activity, then that would keep them from being present. It would keep them from the one main thing, the better part. It would separate them from the whole reason they are at camp in the first place. Just like Martha insisting that Mary leave Jesus to do chores would separate her from Jesus, the whole reason they were doing all this work in the first place.

I’ve heard that some schools in Japan include some time in the day for students to do some cleaning. Each day, students sweep, empty the trash, and wipe down desks. 

At all the schools I substitute taught at, a janitor comes in after the students leave, and the janitor does these tasks. Most times, the students never see the janitor.

And in many of the classrooms I’ve taught in, many students take very little ownership for the cleanliness of the classroom. At the end of the period, the floor is littered with papers, the desks are a mess, and the students don’t really care, because they know that, tomorrow, somehow, it will all magically be cleaned up.

And before I sound too judgmental, I am aware that I often have the same attitude, if I’m walking in the park, or a parking lot, and I see some trash on the ground… well, it’s not my responsibility…

And yet, it is. I live on this planet, and shouldn’t I share in its care and cleanup?

I didn’t hear Martha invite anyone to help her with the chores. Maybe because she actually knew, deep down, that it wasn’t the right time for that. Jesus was teaching; it was time to listen, to be present. Perhaps after, when he was done teaching, would be the time for chores. And maybe Jesus would even help out, if asked.

*

In what ways do you welcome Jesus? Are there times when you need to step away from your distractions, in order to be present with Jesus, and make him feel welcome in your life?

There is a connection here to Mother’s Day: As children get older and become adults, if you ask their mothers what they want for Mother’s Day, more than anything, nearly all mothers will say they just want their children to spend some time with them… Come visit, if they no longer live at home…just be present…

(Dads want the same thing…)

And children want that, too. A parent, a grown-up who loves them, who is present with them, and in that presence, accepts, welcomes, embraces, and affirms them.

Isn’t that the one thing, the better part, that Jesus was talking about?

It’s so hard for us to be present in this day and age. One of the things we’ll do at camp is find ways to be present with and to one another. 

We’ll also find ways to be present with God, and present with creation. We’ll notice what’s right in front of us and all around us: the trees, the birds… the cicadas…

We’ll train our minds to not be too distracted to notice these things in our midst.

Because Christ is present in our midst. The Spirit is present. The kingdom is present.

In our midst. Within us and among us.

But if we are too distracted, we will fail to notice. And we will have missed the one main thing, and we will have failed to have chosen the better part.

There is a time for tasks and chores. But there is also a time to be present. When the time comes for tasks and chores, do the tasks and chores. But when the time comes to be present… be present.

"Sí Se Puede" (Luke 10: 25-37)

Last week, we heard a Bible story in which a scribe asked Jesus what the most important commandment is, and Jesus answered him. But in this week’s Bible story (which is the Bible story we’ll read on the sixth day of church camp at Loch Leven), a Pharisee asks Jesus what the most important commandment is, and this time, instead of answering, Jesus asks the Pharisee: “What do the scriptures teach?” And the Pharisee gives the answer that we heard Jesus give last week; the Pharisee says: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, body and mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And Jesus says, “Good job. You have answered correctly. Do this, and live.” But this Pharisee isn’t just searching for an answer. This Pharisee wants to justify himself. He wants this question-and-answer exchange to show how righteous he, the Pharisee, truly is. So after he answers his own question, and after Jesus says, “You have answered correctly,” the Pharisee asks Jesus, “But who is my neighbor?” Again, Jesus doesn’t give the Pharisee a straight answer. Instead, Jesus tells a story. It’s a story about a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, who was attacked, beaten, stripped, and robbed by bandits, and left for dead. And a priest came by, and saw the victim laying by the side of the road - hurt, bruised, half-naked, barely breathing. And the priest kept walking. He didn’t act. And certainly, the priest justified his inaction by saying: “It’s not my responsibility “I’m not the one who attacked him “I’m just minding my own business “He’s probably dead already anyway “And what a shame - it’s really sad, this world that we live in, that this would happen. People need to live in peace, and not hurt each other in this way.” The priest walked on, and then a Levite came by, and saw the victim laying by the side of the road - hurt, bruised, half-naked, barely breathing. And the Levite kept walking. He didn’t act. And certainly, the Levite justified his inaction by saying: “It’s not my responsibility “I’m not the one who attacked him “I’m just minding my own business “He’s probably dead already anyway “And what a shame - it’s really sad, this world that we live in, that this would happen. People need to live in peace, and not hurt each other in this way.” And the Levite walked on. As the Pharisee listened to Jesus tell this story, the Pharisee probably identified with the priest and the Levite. They weren’t bad people. They didn’t hurt anyone. They weren’t the ones who attacked, beat, stripped, robbed, and left for dead that poor traveller. They didn’t act violently. They would never do so. But if they didn’t hurry along that road, and quickly reach their destination, who knows - maybe they would be the next victim. And when the priest in the story and the Levite in the story shook their heads and said, “What a shame…” the pharisee listening to the story did the same. He also shook his head and lamented the kind of world they lived in, the kind of world where these things could happen. If only everyone could be a person of peace, a person of nonviolence, like him, like the priest, like the Levite. It’s the same attitude that so many people today have. We’re not violent. We don’t act violently. We would never intentionally hurt or injure another person, much less attack an innocent traveller. That makes us good people, right? That’s certainly what the Pharisee was thinking... But Jesus wasn’t done with his story. After the priest passed by, and after the Levite passed by, a Samaritan came by, and saw the victim laying by the side of the road - hurt, bruised, half-naked, barely breathing... Well, the Pharisee was sure he knew how this story was going to end. There was a great animosity, a great hatred, between Jews like him, and Samaritans. This hatred led them to prejudice; they probably assumed that the bandits in the story were Samaritans, even though Jesus didn’t say so. And this Samaritan was probably as bad as those bandits. Heck, this Samaritan might even be friends with them. Jesus never said that those bandits were Samaritans, but he did say that this third person coming up the road was a Samaritan. And, contrary to prejudicial expectations, this Samaritan - like the priest, and like the Levite - believed in peace. He would never hurt another person, no matter who they were. But this Samaritan did more than just not hurt another person. This Samaritan saw it as his responsibility to act, to get involved. The Samaritan didn’t say: “It’s not my responsibility...I’m not the one who attacked him...I’m just minding my own business...He’s probably dead already anyway…” The Samaritan acted. The Samaritan got involved. The Samaritan went beyond being a person of peace, to being a peacemaker. Not hurting another person is not enough to be a peacemaker. To be a peacemaker, one has to act. To be a peacemaker, one has to get involved. And only the Samaritan - the one the Pharisee least expected to do so - acted to help the poor, injured victim. It was risky for the Samaritan to get involved. What if the injured man was faking it? What if he was a robber himself, and had friends hiding, just waiting for someone to let down their guard so they could attack, beat, strip, and rob whoever it was that was dumb enough to stop and offer aid? What if the injured man was dead? There were all sorts of religious laws about touching a dead person, and how doing so would make a person ritually unclean. Certainly the priest and Levite knew that, and probably the Samaritan did too. What if acting and getting involved required more of a person than it appeared at first? That is, in fact, what happened. The victim didn’t just need first aid. It turns out he also needed a place to recover - lodging - as well as food and medicine. The Samaritan, who got involved, and who made it his responsibility to care for this poor victim, ended up taking care of all that. Despite the challenges and despite the risks, the Samaritan believed that he could do what needed to be done. He could be the one who helps. He could be the one who makes peace. The sixth day of church camp will focus on this story, the story of the Good Samaritan. The “word of the day” for the sixth day of camp is actually a phrase. “Sí Se Puede.” You may know this phrase as being an important part of the farmworkers movement led by Cesar Chavez. It means “Yes, it can be done,” or, more simply, “Yes, we can.” Many people who believe in peace - like the priest, the Levite, and the Pharisee - think they can’t get involved. There are too many reasons to not get involved, to not act. It’s too risky. It’s beyond one person’s ability. The problem is too big. I can’t do it. But the Samaritan in this story says: “yes, I can. Sí Se Puede. Peace is possible…Healing is possible...Agape and Shalom and Ubuntu and Heiwa are all possible... but only if I act.” “It’ll be hard, and I can’t do everything, but I can do something. I can act. Sí Se Puede. I can see what this victim needs. I can figure out how I can help. And I can do what I am capable of.” It makes me think of the women in the documentary film Knock Down the House. This is a Netflix documentary that focuses on four women who ran for Congress in 2016. Each of them decided to challenge incumbents from their own party - incumbents who were popular, who had seniority and power, and who had access to lots and lots of cash. People told these women they were crazy. People told them that no one would vote for them. And perhaps a normal, sane person would say, “I can’t do this. It’s impossible.” But they did it anyway. They didn’t all win. But they did all make a difference. They all did something. And one of them did win - despite the tremendous odds stacked against her, she won - and politics is forever changed. Sí Se Puede. It also makes me think of Greta Thunberg, who describes herself as a 16 year-old climate activist with Aspergers. She may be just a kid, but last year she started protesting to draw attention to climate change; now over 1.5 million youth are a part of her movement. This week she spoke at a climate conference in Austria, alongside Arnold Schwarzenegger. She has appeared on the cover of Time magazine, and has been nominated for a Nobel Prize. Sí Se Puede. The Samaritan acted for peace; but he wasn’t the only one. What about the traveler? What did he do? Well, for one thing, he accepted the help of a Samaritan. He didn’t have to do that. Would you accept the help of a person you’d been taught to hate? What about the innkeeper? What did he do to make peace? Would you accept the word of a Samaritan, who promised to pay you when he returned for the lodging and care you provided? What else can be done? Can we ask why that road is so dangerous in the first place, and what can be done about that? The priest and the Levite just shrugged and lamented about the state of the world, but a person who says “Sí Se Puede” asks what can be done about that… what can be done to make the world a better place… What about you, and me. What can we do? We can look at our world today, shrug our shoulders, and lament. But can we also ask: what can be done? What can we do? Can we find a way to act, to make peace, to get involved in some way? To find some cause, and find a way to make a difference? Yes. Yes, we can. Sí Se Puede. We can bind wounds. We can carry the weak. We can ask them what they need, and work with them to help meet those needs. We can create space for those who are grieving. We can march. We can write letters. We can meet with elected leaders. We can listen. We can speak out on social media. We can plant trees. We can build houses. We can go on mission trips. We can give financial support. We can encourage and support those who who are working to make a difference. There is so much we can do.

Sermon: "With All Your Heart" (Luke 10: 25-28)

We are Disciples of Christ, a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. As part of the one body of Christ, we welcome all to the Lord’s Table, as God has welcomed us.

This is our church’s identity statement. It’s who we are. We are Disciples of Christ. We are a movement for wholeness. We do not claim to be the entire body of Christ, or that we are the only true Christians, but rather that we are just one part of it; Christ’s body exists in many forms. And we do welcome ALL to the Lord’s Table, unconditionally, just as God has welcomed us.

Every sermon I preach has these ideas in the background. Every sermon I write is an attempt to figure out how we can bring wholeness to our city and our world. And because it is a world that has been fragmented by things such as racism, homophobia, economic inequality, the destruction of the environment, and other social sins, these are frequent topics in my sermons.

But wholeness is also something we need to find in our own lives. Many of us live lives that are broken, fragmented, less-than-whole. We feel stuck or trapped. We feel a longing for something more, but we don’t know what. We think we can satisfy that longing by working harder, earning more money, buying more things,…

Yet that longing is still there. Everything we’ve tried still leaves us feeling less-than-whole. We feel restless. Incomplete. Unsatisfied.

It is God’s desire that you be whole. It is God’s desire that you find peace and satisfaction. It is God’s desire that your anxiety and restlessness is replaced with peace and calm in your heart, in your soul, in your body and in your mind.

The prophet Isaiah said to everyone who thirsts, “Come to the water.” The prophet said to those who are hungry, “Come and eat.”

Then he said, “Why do you labor for that which does not satisfy?”

If only Isaiah could see us now. How much of what we chase after fails to satisfy? How much of what we pursue really, truly brings us deep down satisfaction? How many of our busy days do we run around, to and fro, and collapse into bed, exhausted, yet unable to sleep, having done little that truly brought us satisfaction?

A lawyer once asked Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” That eternal life he’s referring to can also be translated as the “life of the ages.” It’s a life of wholeness, a life of deep-down satisfaction, a life of crawling into bed each night with a smile on your face.

Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law?”

The lawyer answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.”

It’s a good answer. But of course, every six year-old Jewish child in the first century could have given that same answer. Every Jewish child would have heard repeatedly – and would have memorized – this command.

In Deuteronomy chapter six, we read: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” The only difference is that in Luke’s gospel, one more phrase is added: “with all your strength.”

This is the beginning of the Shema. It’s called the Shema because Shema is the Hebrew word for “hear,” and the passage begins, “Hear, O Israel…”

It goes on to say this: “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

And many Jews did just that, to make sure that they and their children knew these words and never forgot them.

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.”

In his encounter with Jesus, the lawyer also added that you should love your neighbor as yourself. So his full answer to Jesus is to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and, love your neighbor as yourself.”

This echoes what we heard last week, about loving God and loving our neighbor, the two hinges on which everything else hangs.

And Jesus replied to the lawyer: “You have given the right answer. Do this, and you will live.”

Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself…

With all your heart.

Soul.

Strength.

And mind.

All month, this is going to be my focus. We’ll take one of these each week, starting today with heart.

The life of the ages, the life of wholeness, means loving with all your heart.

To find that deep-down satisfaction that allows you to fall into bed at night with a smile on your face, you need to focus on your heart. (You need to focus on your soul, your strength, and your mind, too, but today’s topic is the heart.)

So what does it mean to love with all one’s heart?

The Bible refers to the heart the same way we often do, as a center of emotion. So focusing on the heart involves love. It involves friendship. It involves strengthening the ties that bind us to one another and to God.

I’ve mentioned before that the word religion literally means “re-connect.” It comes from the word “re-ligio,” and “ligio” is the same root from which we get the word “ligament.” And what do ligaments do? They connect.

Likewise, religion is meant to connect. True religion connects us to God, and it also connects us to one another.

Focusing on the heart involves recognizing these connections. We live lives of such isolation, which is ironic, given how social media connects us to people all over the world. But what we fail to understand is that those with whom we connect are really parts of ourselves. We’re all one, really. One humanity, united by God, united with God.

And when we fail to focus on the heart-aspect of wholeness, it’s no wonder we end each day feeling isolated and broken and less-than-satisfied. By ignoring our connections with others, we’ve ignored a part of ourselves.

Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. You see the connection in that.

Barack Obama once said, back before he ever became president, that “We are connected as one people.” He said: “If there’s a child on the south side of Chicago who can’t read, that matters to me, even if it’s not my child. If there’s a senior citizen somewhere who can’t pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it’s not my grandmother. If there’s an Arab American family being rounded up without benefit of attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It’s that fundamental belief – I am my brother’s keeper, I am my sister’s keeper – that makes this country work.”

Now, as we prepare to elect a new president to lead this country, it seems this idea of connection has been cast aside. Listen to today’s presidential candidates: most of what they say is designed to appeal to voters who care only about themselves; voters who see no connection between their own welfare and the welfare of their neighbor.

Because many voters don’t want a candidate who will help the homeless, or who will help immigrants, or who will help strengthen the economies of countries other than our own. They see no connection. They fail to understand that their own welfare is directly connected to the welfare of others.

That lawyer who asked Jesus the question…After he recited the Shema, after he said “love your neighbor as yourself,” he then asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

You know, he was doing so well until he said that. But in asking “Who is my neighbor?” he showed his ignorance.

The law that he, as a lawyer, should have known so well answers this question. Leviticus 19:18 says “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” This, the lawyer quoted. But Leviticus 19 goes on to say: “Any immigrant who lives with you must be treated as if they were one of your citizens. You must love them as yourself, because you were immigrants in the land of Egypt.”

Here and elsewhere, it’s clear that the ancient law clearly works to expand the definition of who one’s neighbor is. The ancient law demonstrates that the circle which defines who is a neighbor is to be an ever-expanding circle, drawing more and more people into the circle of inclusion. The lawyer either didn’t know this (in which case he wasn’t a very good lawyer); OR he did know this but was looking for a loophole.

And Jesus called him out on it.

Unfortunately today, that lawyer is everywhere. People are always looking for a way to draw a line that separates “us” from “them.” People are always looking for a way to limit love.

And at night, when they crawl into bed, their hearts are filled with fear. They are always worried that people are out to get them. Their sleep is restless, as their fear turns into anger and then into hatred.

And there is no wholeness, no peace, for people caught in that type of thinking.

I’ve learned that, in order to fall into bed with a smile on my face, I need to have shown love during the day. Love for God and love for my neighbor. When I’m anxious and afraid, the only thing that truly brings me peace and calms my fear is love.

Love is what makes me feel alive. I’ll be talking about body in a few weeks, because body and strength are important, but body and strength won’t last forever. Only love lasts forever.

To find wholeness, I need to find, every day, a way to love. I need to find a way to love my family. I need to find a way to love my neighbor. I need to find a way to love my community, my nation and my world.

Love takes away the fear.

Love let’s a person sleep well at night.

Love. Everyday. That’s the first, and probably most important, component to a life of wholeness.

Parables: Uhn? (Luke 10:25-37)

Who here ever watched the TV sitcom “Home Improvement” with Tim Allen?  There aren’t many sitcoms that I enjoy watching, but “Home Improvement” was one of the few that I did. 

On the show, Tim “the Tool Man” Taylor was always getting himself into trouble of some sort, and after a conversation with next-door neighbor and philosopher Wilson, Tim’s eyes would be opened to seeing and understanding things in a new way.  His whole understanding of the world would be challenged, until he ended up seeing the world in a new way. You could always tell when this moment of realization, of enlightenment, of epiphany, was about to come when Tim uttered his trademark, “Unh?”

Every parable that Jesus told elicited a similar response from those who heard them. 

My sermons for the next several weeks are inspired by a book by John Dominic Crossan titled, The Power of Parable.  Crossan is a former Catholic priest and a New Testament scholar.  He was born in Ireland, but spent much of his career teaching at DePaul University in Chicago.  As it turns out, Crossan will be the featured speaker at Chapman University’s Founders Day next March.

In his book, Crossan says that there were three types of parables in the ancient world.  There were riddle parables, example parables, and challenge parables.

A riddle parable is one in which everything in the story has a second meaning, and the purpose is to figure out what that second meaning is.

There are some riddle parables in scripture.  In the book of Judges, Samson posed a riddle that went like this:

Out of the eater came something to eat

Out of the strong came something sweet

It’s a very short story, obviously a riddle to be solved, and Samson challenged his hearers to solve it.

Now it was a bit unfair, since Samson had himself found, not long before, the carcass of a lion in which bees had taken up residence, and Samson had helped himself to some of their honey: something to eat out of the eater, something sweet out of the strong.

Unfortunately Samson did seem to have a weak spot when it came to the women in his life, and his wife coaxed the answer out of him and gave it to the people who were trying to guess it.

Augustine, an early Christian theologian from North Africa, once explained the Parable of the Good Samaritan as a riddle.  John Dominic Crossan quotes Augustine, who explained the riddle like this – and don’t worry if you get confused, because Augustine was wrong.  But this is how he explained it:

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.  Adam himself is meant.  Jerusalem is the heavenly city of peace, from whose blessedness Adam fell.  Jericho means “the moon” and signifies our mortality, because it is born, waxes, wanes, and dies.

The thieves are the devil and his angels; who stripped him, namely, of his immortality; and beat him, by persuading him to sin; and left him half dead, because insofar as man can understand and know God, he lives, but insofar as he is wasted and oppressed by sin, he is dead – he is therefore called half dead…

Well, Augustine went on like this, explaining how every little detail in the parable of the Good Samaritan corresponds to something else.  That’s what it means to interpret this parable as if it were a riddle.

But Crossan says that Jesus did not intend for the Parable of the Good Samaritan to be interpreted as a riddle.  So let’s talk about the second type of parable, and that is the Example Parable.

In an example parable, a story is told, and at the end it is implied that the one hearing the parable is to “go and do likewise.”  The parable presents an example of how you are to live.

The story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den is an example parable.  In this story Daniel shows tremendous faith, and in the end, the one hearing the story can’t help but be inspired to show that same kind of faith in his or her own life.

Many people have read the parable of the Good Samaritan as an example parable.  Even Augustine, when he wasn’t trying to turn it into a riddle, saw in the good Samaritan an example to be followed. 

However, John Dominic Crossan wonders why the example in this parable is a Samaritan.  It could have been anyone.  If all that was needed was a good example to follow, why not make it someone more respected?  Why couldn’t the priest or the Levite have been the good example?  Why did it have to be the Samaritan, when Samaritans were so hated by the Jewish people?

It would be like someone telling the story today, with two good people who do what is wrong, and then the one who does what is right being a Taliban, or a gang member, or a drug dealer.  Instead of calling this story the Good Samaritan, it would be the Good Taliban.  There must have been a reason Jesus chose this unlikely person to be the one who does what is right.

And that reason, according to Crossan, is that, when Jesus told a parable, he didn’t tell it as a riddle to be figured out, or as an example to follow.  When Jesus told a parable, he did it to challenge one’s way of thinking about the world.  The thought that a Samaritan could be good certainly does just that.

There are challenge parables in the Old Testament.  You already know one of them, because I’ve preached on it several times already in recent months:  The story of Ruth. 

Remember how, in the story of Ruth, she is referred to over and over as a Moabite?  Over and over, this point is emphasized.  Ruth lived in the land of Moab.  Ruth the Moabite went with her mother-in-law Naomi to Bethlehem.  Ruth the Moabite met and married a man named Boaz.

At the time the story of Ruth was written, the Moabites were looked upon very unfavorably.  In that respect, they weren’t that different than the Samaritans in Jesus’s time.  Anti-Moabite prejudice was strong.

And yet here’s a story where the main character, the one who does what is right – the one who, in fact, becomes the great-grandmother of David, Israel’s greatest king! – is a Moabite.

That is a challenge parable.  That is a story told with the intention of challenging one’s way of thinking about the world.  If it were told in the format of a TV sitcom, it would be a story that makes you go, “Unh?”  It’s a story that leads you to ponder and reconsider some aspect of society which you’ve been taking for granted.  Basically, the point of it is to blow your mind.

According to John Dominic Crossan, most, if not all, of Jesus’s parables were challenge parables.  They were stories that make you go, “unh?”  Crossan says:  “An example parable may be good, but a challenge parable is a far more importantly subversive operation… Challenge parables humble our prejudicial absolutes.  They are tiny pins dangerously close to big balloons.  They push or pull us into pondering whatever is taken totally for granted in our world – in its cultural customs, social relations, traditional politics, and religious traditions.”

Challenge parables burst our preconceived notions.  They turn our world upside down.  They shatter commonly held beliefs.  They blow our minds.

Now.  Here is something really interesting about how Luke presents this parable of Jesus.  Luke prefaces the parable by describing an incident in which a lawyer decides to test Jesus by asking a question.  “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus put the question back to the lawyer, who replied, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind; and you must love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus then said that the lawyer was correct.

But then the lawyer, still wanting to test Jesus, asked, “But who is my neighbor?”  And then Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan.  At the end, he asked the lawyer, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

And the lawyer replied, “The one who showed him compassion.”

And Jesus said, “Go and do likewise.”

Well, that makes it sound like an example parable, doesn’t it?  The fact is that Luke liked example parables.  He liked example parables so much that he could take one of Jesus’s challenge parables, and turn it into an example parable in his gospel account.

Now Mark, in his version of the gospel… Mark liked riddle parables.  He would sometimes take a challenge parable of Jesus’s and turn it into a riddle.  There are even times when the exact same parable appears in Mark and Luke, but in Mark it is a riddle to figure out, and in Luke it is an example to follow.

One of the questions that John Dominic Crossan asked when he began his research was: If Mark presented parables as riddles, and Luke presented them as examples, how did Jesus present them?  And because the parables themselves so often seemed to challenge presuppositions, Crossan concluded that, for Jesus, parables must have been meant as a challenge.  Jesus told parables to blow your mind … to make you think.

Remember last week, when I talked briefly about the parable in which three slaves are given money by their master, and the first two invest their money and earn more for their master, while the third one keeps it safe without earning interest, and returns the same amount… and how this is a challenge to people because it led them to ask in their minds which was better:  to engage in a culturally approved practice like charging interest, or to follow one’s faith not engage in such a practice, even though you might be persecuted and treated unfairly. 

That is clearly a challenge parable, because it’s about much more than the issue of interest; it’s about following culture vs. following one’s faith, and whether it’s better to follow one’s faith even though those who follow the culture get rewarded for it.  When the slave who did what was right according to the teachings of the faith is thrown into the street, it really does make you raise your eyebrows and go “unh?”  An example parable doesn’t have the power to do that, but a challenge parable does.

So that’s what the parables of Jesus do.  They make you go “unh?”  They challenge your assumptions.  They turn your world upside-down.

Challenge parables are dangerous.  It’s always dangerous to have core beliefs or assumptions challenged.  Challenge parables make you question whether or not the teachings you had learned should still be followed, whether or not the Bible verses you had memorized are still valid, or whether their assumptions and admonitions should be revised or even tossed out.  Because, yes, there are some verses of scripture that just need to be invalidated. 

That may be a shocking statement to some, so I’ll say it again:  some verses of scripture just need to be invalidated.  Verses that condone slavery, for example; at one time, these verses were used to justify slavery in this country and in other countries around the world.  Today, we recognize that slavery is wrong, and that Bible verses that condone slavery are themselves wrong.

But you know, you just can’t go around telling people that the scriptures they hold dear are wrong.  You could get yourself into a lot of trouble.  So instead, you tell a story – a parable – that allows the hearers to think for themselves and figure out whether or not a particular scripture is right or wrong.

And that is exactly what several Old Testament writers did, when they found it necessary to challenge the ancient laws of Moses.  You see, using parables to challenge commonly accepted ways of thinking did not originate with Jesus.  The stories of Ruth, Jonah, and Job – which John Dominic Crossan describes as book-length parables – were all written to challenge people’s way of thinking on one particular law, which is what I will talk about next week.

So until then, just remember:  every time you read or hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, or every time you even hear mention of someone acting like a good Samaritan,… remember that, to those who listened to Jesus, there was no such thing, just like, to many people today, there’s no such thing as a good Taliban.  Samaritans weren’t good.  That was the prevailing attitude.  In the world view of the first century, no one thought of Samaritans as good. 

Until Jesus came along, and challenged people to look at things differently.

"Skywalker" (Luke 10:29-37)

As most of you know, last week I was at the General Assembly in Indianapolis. I want to thank you, the members of this congregation, and especially our board, for making it possible for me to attend. Although I have been to a number of previous assemblies, I had forgotten just how important, how valuable it is, to attend, to represent our congregation in the business sessions, to maintain our connection to the wider church, and to be enriched by the speakers and resources that enable a more effective and successful ministry.

To tell you about the whole Assembly would be too much, unless you want to sit here for a couple of hours. That would be a real Assembly experience, because there is, in fact, a lot of sitting at the General Assembly—sitting through business sessions, sitting through resource groups, sitting through meals and evening worship. But I will spare you that part of the experience.

So I’ll tell you about just one day. The day I think I will tell you about is Saturday, the fourth day of the assembly. I woke early on Saturday in order to attend the Ministers’ Breakfast, which was sponsored by the Pension Fund. It took place at the Marriott hotel, just across the street from the convention center.

The speaker at that breakfast, William Lee, did an outstanding job of speaking to health and wholeness. He pointed out that ministry is ranked lowest among professions when it comes to one’s health. Ministers, I guess, just don’t do a very good job taking care of their bodies. We need to do better, he said.

He spoke to us as we were eating our breakfast of bacon and eggs and delicious, high-carb muffins. I think he may have had a point.

When breakfast was over, I walked across the skywalk that connected the Marriott to the convention center. Business sessions always start with a Bible study; then, for the next several hours, we received reports and voted on various resolutions.

Lunch that day was, for me, at a meal sponsored by Christian Theological Seminary, which is the seminary from which I received my Master of Divinity. It took place back at the Marriott, so back across the skywalk I went. This large meal included fried chicken, and ended with a dessert that was half apple pie and half cheesecake. It was good!

Saturday afternoon I spent in a three-hour writing workshop led by singer-songwriter Carrie Newcomer. I understand that, last week, Galen Goben mentioned Carrie Newcomer in his sermon. Well, not to brag or anything, but last week I was having conversation with Carrie Newcomer.

Dinner that night was once again at the Marriott. For some reason, three of the four meal functions I registered for were on Saturday, and all of them were at the Marriott, so once again, I headed across the skywalk.

This was the Disciples Care Network dinner, which featured Fred Craddock as the speaker. I hadn’t originally planned to attend this dinner, but Laurel graciously bought me a ticket, for which I am thankful. Dinner included three pork chops, rice, vegetables, and a large piece of rich chocolate cake.

In his speech, Fred Craddock spoke about the NBA—the National Benevolent Association—which was once the pride of the denomination. The NBA once had over a hundred facilities across the United States, care facilities, providing services to the elderly, the mentally disabled, and other groups. It was, I believe, the 12th or 13th largest charity in the nation at the time. Because of the NBA, we were the envy of other denominations. As Craddock put it, “They will know we are Christians by our NBA.”

Then the NBA went bankrupt. People were hurt by this. Some said that probably it wasn’t right for us to be in the “care business” in the first place, and we should just let it go; but Craddock said that if we are going to get out of the “care business,” then we might as well get out of the “Jesus business,” because the two are the same.

Now we have the Disciples Care Network, which is a network of various organizations and care agencies all affiliated in some way with the Disciples. In northern California, I worked with one of those agencies—California Christian Homes—at a place called Buttes Christian Manor. We are still very much in the care business.

Which is very much a good thing. The theme of the Assembly was “For the Healing of the Nations,” and if we aren’t providing care, if we aren’t caring for others, especially the least of these, then we’re not helping them, allowing them to heal. If we’re not caring and healing, then we’re not living up to our identity as “a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.” There are a lot of broken people, broken lives, in the world, and Jesus calls us to care for our neighbor, to help them find the wholeness they are lacking.

Well, after Craddock finished speaking—and even though I, despite my best efforts, left about two bites of chocolate cake on my plate—it was time to head over for the evening worship service. So once again, I headed across the skywalk.

This skywalk on which I kept going back and forth allows one to pass twenty feet above the street in air conditioned comfort, without having to cross the traffic. Twenty feet above the cars and trucks, twenty feet above the noise, and twenty feet above the beggars on the sidewalk.

It’s so nice not to be bothered by the beggars. They just make us feel so guilty. The chocolate cake just wouldn’t taste as good when you have to walk by someone who is hungry, someone who is in need of healing, someone who is in need of some … care. Thank God for the skywalk. If only the priest and the Levite could have had it so good.

I walked across the skywalk one more time and headed to worship. I won’t describe worship to you, ‘cause that would take too long. It was very good; you can watch it online if you want, at www.disciples.org. At the end of worship, it was announced that there was going to be an interfaith prayer vigil for health care. Originally scheduled to take place on the lawn of the state capitol one block away, the threat of rain changed the location to one of the convention center meeting rooms.

Even though it was late—about 10:00 by the time it got going—hundreds of people showed up. Our General Minister Sharon Watkins spoke. John Thomas, General Minister of the United Church of Christ, spoke. T. Garrot Benjamin, pastor of Light of the World Christian Church in Indianapolis spoke. A pastor who I was surprised to learn was my mom’s pastor up in Westwood spoke. And it wasn’t just convention-goers. People from the community were present, including representatives from Islam and Judaism.

T. Garrot Benjamin was the featured speaker. Ten years ago, Light of the World Christian Church brought to the General Assembly a resolution calling for health care reform. Benjamin referred to the scripture we heard this morning, how the Samaritan (of all people) was willing to spend his own money to care for the injured traveler, who—needless to say—had no health insurance. Shouldn’t we—he asked—be willing to do the same? As followers of Jesus, aren’t we called to care for those who need care, even bearing some of the expense for the care of those who cannot afford it?

As he spoke, I thought about the beggars on the street. I thought about the hotel workers, who I never saw, but who came into my room each day to straighten it while I was busy doing “God’s work.” I thought about the convention center workers, who took out my trash and kept the place clean. If they were earning minimum wage, that means their annual salary is $18,000 a year, probably with no benefits, no health insurance.

And that was when everything I’d heard throughout the day came together. The message of caring for ourselves that I heard at breakfast. The message of caring for others that I heard at dinner. And then the call to pray for health care reform late at night. It’s all connected. Being in the care business really is being in the Jesus business. It’s what we are called to do.

It is a challenging message. Many will ask, “Why should I help pay for someone else’s care?” The priest and the Levite asked that same question. Today, we can take the skywalk and avoid confronting that question altogether. But the Samaritan—the good Samaritan—confronted that question head-on, and the answer he came up with was this: We care for others, even if it means digging into our own pockets, because those others are our neighbors. And that’s just what he did, shelling out two denarii, equivalent to two days’ wages, for the poor traveler’s care.

Through the Disciples Care Network and its related organizations, we are caring for our neighbor. Through Week of Compassion, which responds to disasters and humanitarian crises around the world, we are caring for our neighbor. Through Global Ministries, which works to improve the lives of people in many countries, we are caring for our neighbor. Through the work we do here locally, in partnerships with COIA and other organizations, we are caring for our neighbor.

Now there is a new opportunity to care for our neighbor. The need has been present for a long, long time, but the opportunity is now. In a letter to the church, Sharon Watkins wrote that legislators are close to making health care reform happen, but they need to hear from the faith community.

On the day I returned from General Assembly, Ginger and I went to Wal-mart to get a few things we needed. There is no skywalk to take you from your car into Wal-mart; you have to walk across the parking lot and in through the front door. And there, in front of the store, just outside the door, were two girls selling candy out of a small ice chest. “Do you want to buy some candy?” they called out as we entered the store.

“No thanks, I’ve had way too much junk food lately,” I replied. I thought it was a good answer; I had eaten way too much junk food lately, and by saying no, I was caring for myself, just as William Lee had said to on Saturday morning.

We spent close to an hour in the store, buying some school clothes for the boys, and a couple of grocery items. On the way out of the store, the girls were still there, and, not recognizing us, they asked again. “Do you want to buy some candy?”

“No thanks,” I said, and walked on by. But then curiosity grabbed hold of me. I stopped, turned to them, and asked, “What are you selling candy for?” I assumed they were raising money for a school group or youth organization of some sort.

One of the girls, who looked to be about ten, said, “What?”

I said again, “What are you selling candy for?”

She said, “So I can have some new hearing aids.”

What kind of a world do we live in, in which a ten year-old girl has to sell candy in front of Wal-mart just so she can hear?

It is, indeed, a fragmented world in which we live. Today, more than 46 million Americans are without health insurance. They are our neighbors. Jesus calls us to care for them; but how? Selling candy bars in front of Wal-Mart isn’t going to be enough to provide them the care they need.

At the Saturday night prayer vigil, Sharon Watkins said, “I don’t have all the answers. I’m not a political wonk, I don’t know how to do this. But there are people in Washington who do. And they need to hear from us.” She’s right. Our elected officials need to know that we who are in the Jesus business are also in the care business. There is no difference between the two, as Fred Craddock said.

Our elected officials need to know that it’s important to us that those who are sick get the care they need. They need to know that if they make this happen, we’ll support them, and if it costs us a couple of dollars, we’ll still support them. They need to know that it’s important to us that little girls who need hearing aids get them.

All who claim to be in the Jesus business have a moral obligation to care for their neighbors, to not pass by on the other side. How we treat those in need of care, the least of these, is how we treat Jesus. Jesus said it himself: there is no difference. That girl selling candy bars, hoping to sell enough to pay for her medical care—she is Jesus in our midst. She is our neighbor. Like so many others, she is in need of healing, wholeness…

My friends, it’s not enough to call ourselves a movement for wholeness. We need to be a movement for wholeness … a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.