Seeking: Who is invited?

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad, so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” --Matthew 22:1-14 (NRSV)

Wow. Just wow. Okay. So, who would like to interpret this parable this morning?

Before we dig into this text in earnest, there are a couple of things I’d like to mention. 

First, we have to be careful not to jump too quickly into the allegorical interpretation. An allegory is a story or picture or poem that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, usually a moral or political meaning. It’s important for us, especially with Jesus’ parables, that we first look closely at the story, before we jump to trying to figure out its allegorical meaning. We try to understand what is going on, first, because doing this can then help us draw out its meaning for us. 

The second caution is about hyperbole. 

In Matthew, in particular, Jesus’ parables contain a lot of hyperbole, of exaggeration. If you think about the community that Matthew is writing to, a community some 50 years after Jesus ascended that has been tossed out from their religious and social community, it might be easier to understand that, as Matthew captures Jesus’ parables, there is an edge to them. Whether it is anger or cynicism, Matthew’s Jesus exaggerates. For far too long, the church has used scripture, including this parable, against the Jewish people in a way that encourages anti-Semitism. Jesus’ parables contain a lot of hyperbole - exaggeration. Why? To catch the reader’s attention. To draw them into the story. Sometimes, to shock them. To drive home a point. Does that mean, then, that we should take Jesus’ parables literally? Probably not. But, we also should not miss the point. We should take it seriously.

So, what do we first see in this story? We have a king who is inviting guests to a banquet. But, even before this, we have this opening phrase: Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables…” So there are other parables that have been told before this one to “them.” If we back up into chapter 21, we see that Jesus and his disciples are in Jerusalem. We’ve skipped ahead because we will read this on Palm Sunday. 

The first thing Jesus does is to go into the temple and overturn the moneychanger tables. Then, Jesus curses the fig tree. This is an irritable Jesus we see in chapter 21. Soon, the religious leaders confront him and challenge his authority to teach in the temple. This is followed by two parables that are spoken directly to the chief priests and elders. And not in a good way. By the end of chapter 21, they want to arrest him. But, they are afraid because Jesus is so popular - thought by the crowds to be a prophet.

Then comes this parable in our text today, spoken to "them" - the chief priests and elders.

Now, something else you need to know is that in ancient times it was the custom to invite guests to a banquet in two phases. First, messengers would be sent to the guests, several days in advance, to invite them. And to tell them to be ready at an approximately time. The second invitation would be sent when the feast was ready. The guests were now to come. 

It appears that, in the story, we first learn about this second invitation. So, those invited have had fair warning to make sure they are available to attend. But, they violate the ancient rules of hospitality by refusing to come, something close to rebellion. Then, asked again, two of the invited guests walk away to go back to their business affairs. Others seize the servants, attack them and kill them. 

Is it any wonder that this king is furious? Wouldn’t, if something like this happened in our day - wouldn’t there be repercussions?

But, there is still a wedding feast waiting. So servants are once again sent by the monarch into the streets to invite everyone they can find. Good and bad. And they gather them into the wedding hall to begin this great feast. 

Maybe, up to this point, we kind of get this story. It’s about invitation and hospitality. About how God invites everyone, good and bad. And about some - particularly privileged - who simply ignore or even refuse God’s invitation. Or worse yet, seek to harm God’s servants.

But, then, we get to the last part of the story. 

Who can make sense of this? How could it be expected that someone gathered up off the streets into the great hall would need to wear a special garment, much less even own one?

What we need to understand is that traditionally the king would have had appropriate garments ready for his guests. The individual did not put on the garment provided - perhaps even refused to put on the garment,, thus, shaming the king. He is cast out not because of who he is, but because of what he chooses to do. Or not to do. In this, he dishonors the king.

So what does this mean for us? (Now, we get to the allegorical interpretation.). There are likely many meanings to this parable. But, perhaps one interpretation is that this is about “cheap grace.” We’ve talked about this before. This is a phrase first written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the years leading up to the second world war, as he and others tried to engage the broader church in stopping Hitler and his movement. Cheap grace, as he writes, is a grace without repentance. Or sacrifice. And, ultimately without a cross. It’s accepting God’s invitation, but refusing to “put on the garment of faith,” as Paul puts it. To truly live as one of God’s people. To do the work of discipleship - prayer, fasting, giving to the poor. Standing up to evil and power, especially when it is harming those whom society has pushed to the edges. It’s refusing to put in our time or energy or resources to serve God. It’s refusing to sacrifice. 

To be a disciple requires costly grace. Because it calls us to fully follow - to follow Jesus Christ. This kind of grace is costly. Because it cost Jesus his life.

So where are you in your Lenten journey? Have you, three weeks in given up on any fast or practice you decided to take on? Why is that? Or, perhaps, you have remained steadfast. How might this practice be more fully incorporated into your life as a disciple beyond Lent?

May we, this Lent, accept God’s invitation to the wedding banquet. But, may we also willingly put on the garment of costly grace. The garment of sacrifice. The garment worthy of the bridegroom himself - Jesus Christ, Son of God.

Amen.

Preached Sunday, March 12, 2023, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Lent 3

Readings: Matthew 22:1-14; Psalm 45:6-7

God's Kingdom Revealed: A New Kind of King

Today marks the fourth week that we have spent in just two chapters of the Gospel of John, chapters 18 and 19 -  these two chapters in which Jesus is, essentially, on trial. First, before the Jewish religious leaders and, then, for the past two weeks before Pilate, the Roman governor. Throughout this entire time, we’ve been talking about power. And kingdom. And how the world works versus how Jesus works.

Today marks the last of our time in these chapters. Today is the story of Jesus’ crucifixion. When we began these weeks going deeper into Jesus’ passion, perhaps, it felt out of place. After all, we usually hear these texts only during Holy Week, which we will mark next week. But, perhaps, by the time we finish today, we will admit that spending time deeply considering these texts, the issues raised in them, and the Jesus pictured for us in them - well, perhaps, we will decide that this time has, in fact, been helpful. Important even. To help us better understand who Jesus is for us. 

The soldiers took Jesus prisoner. Carrying his cross by himself, he went out to a place called Skull Place (in Aramaic, Golgotha). That’s where they crucified him—and two others with him, one on each side and Jesus in the middle. Pilate had a public notice written and posted on the cross. It read “Jesus the Nazarene, the king of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city and it was written in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek. Therefore, the Jewish chief priests complained to Pilate, “Don’t write, ‘The king of the Jews’ but ‘This man said, “I am the king of the Jews.”’”

Pilate answered, “What I’ve written, I’ve written.” --John 19:16b-22 (CEB

Before we move into this story from chapter 19, I’d like to spend a few minutes in chapter 12 - the reading we heard earlier as we gathered. The order of events in John’s gospel is different that in the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke. Each of the gospels was written to a specific audience. John is no different. So, when we see these differences between gospels, it’s not a bad thing. Rather, it fills out the picture for us. We have a fuller picture, a fuller sense of the experiences that the early apostles had as they walked with Jesus throughout his ministry.

So, in John’s gospel, the entry into Jerusalem is very different. The differences are important to note, because they help us more fully understand the story John is trying to tell. The point the gospel writer is trying to make. I’d invite you to open up one of the Bibles under your seat so that, together, we can look more carefully at these texts.

Jerusalem at Passover season was the center of pilgrimage for Jews from all parts of the world. It was only in Jerusalem that the Passover meal could be properly celebrated since only in the temple could the lambs be sacrificed for the meal. Passover, if you remember, was a festival commemorating God’s deliverance of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage. Many Jews under Roman rule longed for another such deliverance. In fact, it would be just 30 years later that a full-fledged war would erupt against Rome. During this time, longing for the Messiah-king was rampant.

In addition, during Passover, as with the other major festivals, Jerusalem was overflowing with visitors. Normally, it had a population of about 600,000. But, there is historical evidence to indicate that during the primary festivals, Jerusalem’s population would swell to between 2 and 3 million people. Think Miami Beach at spring break. Or New Orleans at Mardi Gras. On steroids. You can imagine how nervous this made the Roman occupiers. It was an incredibly volatile situation. Ready to erupt at any moment.

There was also an undercurrent running through the city. In the preceding chapter, Jesus has just raised Lazarus from the dead. The news of this miracle - this amazing sign - was spreading like wildfire throughout the city. Not just with the residents of the city, but also those who had come from the reaches of the Roman empire, from across the known world.

As chapter 12 opens, the crowd has just learned that Jesus will be coming to Jerusalem. They gather palm branches. Why palm branches? The other gospels tell us that the people gathered branches. Why the detail in John? 

Because palm branches were used to honor kings. This swelling crowd, having heard the miracle story, anxious to see Jesus took branches used to honor kings and went out to meet him. In John, it was only then that Jesus found a donkey and sat on it. This is a different order than in the other gospels. It's as if Jesus knew the kind of king the people wanted. A king who would lead them in a violent overthrow of the Roman occupiers. A leader to deliver them from bondage, just like Moses, thousands of years before. But, this wasn’t the kind of king Jesus intended to be. Jesus was to be the king portrayed in Zechariah: “he will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the warhorse from Jerusalem. The bow used in battle will be cut off; he will speak peace to the nations.” Jesus would not be a nationalistic king. But a universal king, one whose realm would encompass the entire world, not just that of the Jews. “For God so loved the world….”

It was this very thing that terrified all of the leaders, Jewish and Roman alike, bringing us now to chapter 19. The Day of Preparation for Passover. The day of Jesus’ crucifixion.

Crucifixion is a horrible way to die. A few years ago, I started reading a book on this means of punishment. The descriptions of what happens to one’s body were so horrific, I was unable to finish it. Crucifixion is a horrible way to die.

That Jesus dies in this way says everything about who he is and what his death means. In John, Jesus is God, a divine being, Word become flesh. Throughout the story, Jesus is in charge, directing all of the events according to a pre-ordained script. John’s passion account is not so much a tragedy as a divine drama. 

In our text, Jesus carries his own cross. Not only is it the Word of God who dies on this cross, it is also the King of the Jews. Pilate puts that very sign on Jesus’ cross. The irony of this is something we cannot ignore. Because we know that statement to be true. 

But, there’s more. This sign is written in three languages - Aramaic, Latin, and Greek. All of the languages of the known world. Jesus is not only the Word of God dying on the cross, or the King of the Jews dying on the cross, but the king of heaven and earth dying on the cross. At the same time the Passover lambs will be slaughtered for the Passover festival. Jesus, who sacrifices himself. “For God so loved the world….” 

So, what kind of king do you want Jesus to be? No really, what kind of king do you want Jesus to be? Do you want Jesus to be the kind of king - the rescuing king - who swoops in to deliver you from whatever hardship you might be going through? Or, perhaps, you want Jesus to be the nationalistic king, who saves you while destroying your enemies, whoever or whatever they may be? Or maybe your King Jesus is the king who saves you from your sin so that you can get to heaven, with no thought to what discipleship might mean here and now? On earth?

What kind of king do you want Jesus to be?

In John, this is the kind of king we see Jesus to be. A courageous king who moves toward conflict, instead of away from it, restoring and deepening relationships. A truth-telling king who speaks honestly and authentically, with no regard for his own life or his social position. A sacrificial king who carries his own cross. A humble king who stoops down to wash his disciples’ feet. Even the feet of Judas, the one who will betray him. 

This is the kind of king Jesus is. Will you follow this kind of king?

Preached April 10, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

Palm/Passion Sunday

Readings: John 12:12-27, 19:16b-22; Psalm 24

Journey to the Cross: A Different Kind of King

The journey of Jesus to the cross is nearing its end. It has been a long journey, from Galilee in the north, detouring through Samaria, to Jerusalem. Nine chapters of Luke’s narrative that culminate in chapter 19, with the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into this city that is the heart and soul of the Jewish people. His entry is timed with the festival of the Passover, a time when believers from across Judea would travel to the city, to the temple, to offer sacrifices and remember this important historical action by God to free God’s people from bondage.

It’s no wonder, then, that the large crowd of disciples that Jesus had gathered along the way were so excited. Because they knew the ancient promise of the Messiah. The ancestor of King David. Son of David, long promised by God, who would free them from this new bondage through Roman occupation. Who promised to restore Israel once again.

The symbolism of Jesus’ entry in Jerusalem, riding a donkey over a path strewn with cloaks and branches, was not lost on those who were witnesses to this event. This was exactly how Israel’s kings would enter the city. It was exactly how the prophet Zechariah had foretold the entry of God’s future ruler. “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The people were certain this Jesus, this Nazarene, was he. The Christ. The Messiah. 
But, here’s the problem. We heard a hint of this problem near the end of the processional gospel we listened to earlier, when the Pharisees want the people once again to “Shush!” The problem is that the people do not understand the nature of this promised king, thinking that he will be a conqueror. One who will come with authority. One who will dominate. One who will overthrow Rome. Because that is what kings do, right? That is what great leaders do, right? That is what this Messiah will do, right?

There is a political implication to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It’s why the Pharisees want Jesus to tell the crowd to be quiet. They understand that this is a politically charged situation. That Jesus’ disciples and, eventually, Jesus himself must be silenced. Because to do otherwise would mean rebellion. The Pharisees are trying to walk a fine political line between open rebellion and complete capitulation before Roman authorities. The response Jesus gives them is paradoxical. He does not want to claim the kingdom his disciples understand or desire. Yet, he accepts their acclamation, justified as it is, yet recognizing that in the coming week he will define for them his kingdom by his example.

Which brings us to the last portion of today’s text in chapter 19. A scene that is found only in the gospel of Luke. Beginning at verse 41.

As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

If you, even you, Jerusalem, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace. 

Jesus knows that, in spite of the welcome he has received, things will not go well for him in Jerusalem. Because, Jerusalem and its people. Because Jerusalem, its people, and all of the believers do not understand who Jesus is. What the peace is that he is ushering in. And what this peace will bring. 

Because, they desire a different kind of peace. One that does not last for eternity. It is a peace that comes out of rebellion and war. Domination and victory. It is no different than our present attempts at peace. We trust the peace of weapons and armaments - that comes from violence. We trust the peace of vigilance and self-protection, the peace of isolation from those we fear. We find it difficult to practice the peace of trusting one another. The peace of generosity and abundance. The peace of love. Jesus, who wept over Jerusalem that day still weeps over us. Our cities. Our nations.

But, the reign of this king, this Messiah-king, is a reign of freedom from our ways of violence and all else that keeps us in captivity. It is a universal reign of freedom. Release to the captives. Recovery of sight to the blind. Good news to the poor. Wholeness and abundance for all people.

This king’s crown is a crown of thorns. His throne, a splintered wooden cross. His exaltation, not coming in a horse-drawn chariot amidst the cheer of the crowd, but in being raised upon a cross amidst the jeers and ridicule of the masses. Through his death and resurrection, this king, who refuses to be an earthly king, makes his royal entry by way of a cross and an empty tomb. For this kind of king, even if all people - and we - were silent, the very stones themselves would cry out.

Thanks be to God for this kind of king. Amen.

Preached March 28, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Palm-Passion Sunday

Readings: Luke 19:29-44; Psalm 118:19-23

God's Triumph: The Church at Home - Holy

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
    Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” --Mark 11:1-11; 14:3-9 (NRSV)

In all of scripture, to anoint - to engage in the act of anointing - occurs at three different occasions.

First, as we heard in both our readings from 1 Samuel and Psalm 20, the act of anointing happens when a new king is crowned. Perhaps, that’s how it is being used here. After all, we just heard the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey - the way in which all of Israel’s kings would have begun their reign.

And then there’s the cry of the people, as Jesus enters the city. They cry out, “Hosanna!” Hosanna. This complex word with a double meaning. Praise Him! And...save us! So, at first blush, this anointing by this unnamed woman in our text must be the signal that there is a new king for Israel. And a new kingdom. 

A second occasion in which one is anointed comes out of the deep Jewish tradition of hospitality. A tradition in which no expense is spared in caring for one’s guest. Perhaps this is the occasion here. After all, this unnamed woman anoints Jesus with oil that has cost her a year’s salary. It is an extravagant gesture on her part. So extravagant that, in fact, the other guests become critical. “Couldn’t she have sold the oil and given the money to the poor?” they exclaim. After all, in another gospel, we learn that the amount of money she has spent on this sweetly perfumed ointment would have fed a population of 7,500 poor - the equivalent of seven months of food for our food pantry. Yet, Jesus acclaims her. And her extravagant devotion. To him.

Then, there’s the third occasion for anointing. Which is for burial. Where family members - mostly women - gather together. And lovingly wash their dead. And then rub beautifully scented oils into the body of their loved one. For the last time. 

This is how Jesus views the act of this unnamed woman. One who remains unnamed in our story and yet, as Jesus has promised, has now been acclaimed for over 2,000 years. Jesus views her extravagant act as the preparation for his burial. Which will take place after his own extravagant act.  An extravagant act of humility and sacrifice. An extravagant act of acquiescence and obedience.  An extravagant act of love. For you. And me. And for all people.

In this time of pandemic, as we are all re-examining our priorities and shedding those that no longer seem right, and as we move into this holiest of weeks, may we once again hear the story of God’s extravagant act of love in Christ. And may we, like the unnamed woman, respond with our own act of extravagant devotion. Amen.

Preached April 5, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Passion/Palm Sunday

Readings: Mark 11:1-11; 14:3-9; 1 Samuel 10:1; Psalm 20:6-9

Our Sin, God's Faithfulness: A Vineyard Love Song

Let me sing for my beloved

    my love-song concerning his vineyard:

My beloved had a vineyard

    on a very fertile hill.

He dug it and cleared it of stones,

    and planted it with choice vines;

he built a watchtower in the midst of it,

    and hewed out a wine vat in it;

he expected it to yield grapes,

    but it yielded wild grapes.

And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem

    and people of Judah,

judge between me

    and my vineyard.

What more was there to do for my vineyard

    that I have not done in it?

When I expected it to yield grapes,

    why did it yield wild grapes?

And now I will tell you

    what I will do to my vineyard.

I will remove its hedge,

    and it shall be devoured;

I will break down its wall,

    and it shall be trampled down.

I will make it a waste;

    it shall not be pruned or hoed,

    and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns;

I will also command the clouds

    that they rain no rain upon it.

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts

    is the house of Israel,

and the people of Judah

    are his pleasant planting;

he expected justice,

    but saw bloodshed;

righteousness,

    but heard a cry! 

--Isaiah 5:1-7 (NRSV)

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

When I was around 30 years old, I met a man. I’d been divorced at this point for about 2 years and life as a working single mom was busy and, often, pretty hard. So, the idea of dating was a bit beyond me. However, one day, work colleagues of mine invited me to go out dancing with them one evening. I was resistant at first, thinking of all of the chores I still had to do at home, plus the challenge of finding a babysitter for my young son. But, they kept working on me and, eventually, I agreed.

They had a favorite hangout spot. It was this combination restaurant and bar that was on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, one of the wealthier communities in Los Angeles, which was where they also lived. We agreed that I would meet them there that evening. 

About 30 minutes into the evening, as I was wondering why I’d ever agreed to come, a gentleman approached our table to greet my friends. He was quite a bit older than we were. But, he was known to my friends and was respected in the community. He was a well known hotel developer. Wealthy. Very smart. Best of all, he was a great dancer! Over the next few minutes, we began to engage in conversation. And, then, to dance together. 

Have you ever had that sense after having just met someone that you are unexpectedly being pulled into a relationship? There is a sense of underlying excitement and an electricity that happens, that’s hard to explain. It’s a type of infatuation that happens, when everything just clicks. And it feels like it's destiny. 

Well, that’s what happened that evening to both of us. Over the next few weeks, we were in this whirlwind period of romance. Then, one Saturday morning, I received a call from him, saying we needed to talk. He’d spent the morning eating breakfast with friends - friends who were his age - who had convinced him of the folly of our relationship. The “May-November” nature of our relationship, if you will. And so, in that phone call, he told me we could no longer see each other. And, he broke up with me.

Earlier in worship this morning, we shared the names of love songs with each other. What we didn’t share, though, were the names of “break-up songs.” At that moment in my life, when it felt as though my destiny - as though our destiny - had been destroyed by his friends, this was my “break-up song.” 

The first part of our reading this morning from Isaiah is nothing more than a break-up song. A love song about a love that has gone awry. A song of a farmer and his vineyard. A farmer who has taken the utmost care to prepare the land for a bountiful harvest of grapes for wine-making. Not just any grapes, but the best grapes, the most excellent grapes. He has planted this vineyard on a fertile hill. He has done everything to ensure the growth of his precious vines -  digging up the dirt, clearing the stones, planting the choicest vines. Then, placing a tower in the midst of the vineyard - a watchtower - so that he might watch for those unwanted animals that might come and destroy his newly-planted vines. Digging out a wine vat, also in the midst of the vineyard, to make this wine that will be the best wine, of the highest quality. 

This is a love song that begins with such a sense of expectation and anticipation. An infatuation, if you must. And, then, we get to this line of the song, in verse 4, which ends with this question - a lament really. From the farmer: “When I expected my vineyard to yield good grapes, why did it yield rotten grapes?”

The next step the farmer takes is logical. With vines that have produced such a poor harvest, he removes the fences surrounding his previous vineyard. Allowing the natural predators to come in and destroy it. He stops farming the vineyard, allowing the thorns and thistles to grow up. The farmer walks away from what was once his beloved vineyard. Broken-hearted. Singing nothing other than a break up song. And, then, near the end of the song, we realize that this is not a song about a farmer and a vineyard. But this is a song - a breakup song - about God and God’s people.

The book of Isaiah is written in two parts by the prophet Isaiah. Unlike Hosea last week, who was a prophet in the northern kingdom of Israel, Isaiah is located in the southern kingdom, in Jerusalem. Isaiah has been witness to the destruction of the northern kingdom and the exile of Judah’s northern kin. It is this destruction and exile of Israel in the north that is the subject of this first part of Isaiah. A lament. A break-up song between God and God’s people. A people from whom God expected the production of good fruit. The fruits of - as we read in verse 7 - fruits of justice and righteousness. And yet, instead, Israel has become a people who have produced bad fruit. Fruits of bloodshed and distress. The harvest is not simply poor or inadequate. The harvest is evil. 

Friends, we are like this harvest. Like Israel. Our world produces similar fruit. A harvest from which God expects justice and righteousness. Where salvation is not just the hope of us as individuals, but where salvation in God’s eyes is about the establishment of a just society. Where the common good is of utmost importance. Where justice and righteousness prevail. A world in which the rights of all, including the most marginalized, are respected. Isaiah’s musical metaphor is a stinging rebuke to Israel, and to us, of the world we have created. A world that produces bloodshed. And cries. Particularly, the cries of children. Hungry. Living in unsafe conditions. In fear of the next mass shooting. Or separated from their parents.

For ten full chapters in this first part of Isaiah, we hear the lament of God over this harvest. Heavy, sobering words from God to the people of Judah, intended to wake them from their similar stupor. We hear God’s sense of despair at their unfaithfulness. At our unfaithfulness.

But, then, suddenly. Unexpectedly. The song changes in chapter 11.

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,

    and a branch shall grow out of his roots.

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,

    the spirit of wisdom and understanding,

    the spirit of counsel and might,

    the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.

He shall not judge by what his eyes see,

    or decide by what his ears hear;

but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,

    and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;

he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,

    and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.

Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,

    and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

The wolf shall live with the lamb,

    the leopard shall lie down with the kid,

the calf and the lion and the fatling together,

    and a little child shall lead them.

The cow and the bear shall graze,

    their young shall lie down together;

    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,

    and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.

They will not hurt or destroy

    on all my holy mountain;

for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord

    as the waters cover the sea.

--Isaiah 11:1-9 (NRSV)

As the song begins, the vineyard is a stump. Nothing more than a stump that appears to be dead. But, this stump still has roots. And as we listen to the song, Isaiah lifts our eyes. This is a song of a new
vision. An acknowledgement that life is about to be different. An intrusion of good news - very good news to the people of Judah. That, out of this seemingly dead stump, will come a new shoot. And, then, a branch. A new king. Who wears on his mantle the spirit of wisdom and understanding. The spirit of counsel and might. The spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. The very words used in each of our baptisms.

This new king will judge with righteousness and equity. With a single-minded devotion to the community and to justice - a devotion that will require the abandonment of his own ambition. A new king, through whose leadership, the order of peace will be reestablished. A whole peace. Shalom. Not simply a peace among humans, but a peace that encompasses all of creation. Harmony will be restored.

What a vision! What a love song this is! Where children are safe and where the most likely of enemies live beside each other in peace. Where no one and nothing will be hurt or destroyed. Because the whole earth will be filled with the knowledge of God.

By placing this vision - this love song - into the midst of the very stark realities of Israel’s life, into the midst of the stark realities of our lives, Isaiah reminds us that occasionally we need to stop and allow ourselves the privilege of seeing life not how it is, but about how it can be. About how God desires it to be and promises that it will be. Not a breakup song. But, a love song. A love story. A story of hope. A vision of peace. A true destiny for you and I and all creation. A destiny of justice and righteousness. And peace. And love.

May we long for this love song! And may we learn to sing it with our God. Amen.

Preached November 17, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 23
Readings: Isaiah 5:1-7, 11:1-9; Mark 12:1-3; Psalm 107:38-43

The Ways of the Kingdom: Service

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” Matthew 25:31-46 (NRSV)

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

Which side are you on now?

Which side are you on?

Which side are you on now?

Which side are you on?

If you are a native Kentuckian, you may recognize this song. Maybe even if you aren’t a native Kentuckian. It was written on night in 1931 in Harlan County, KY. In 1931, the mine workers and the mine owners in this southeastern county in Kentucky were locked in a bitter and violent struggle called the Harlan County War. In an attempt to intimidate the family of Sam Reece, who was a union organizer for the mine workers’ union, the sheriff of the county and his men, who were hired by the mining company, entered their home in search of him. Now Mr. Reece had been warned ahead of time and had escaped, but his wife, Florence, and their children had remained. They were terrorized in their own home. That night, after the sheriff and his men left, Mrs. Reece tore a page off a calendar that hung in their kitchen and she wrote the lyrics for the song. Tradition has it that the tune is from an old Baptist hymn.

This song would go on to be used in nearly every major protest movement in our country. In the fight for workers’ rights. In the civil rights movement. In the women’s movement. In the fight for gay and lesbian rights. In the anti-war protests of Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. Even in today’s Poor People’s Campaign, a campaign that seeks to renew the original campaign started by Martin Luther King, Jr.. 

This song is a song that challenges us. To make a decision about which side we will choose. Whether we will stand on the side of those with power. Or on the side of those with no power. 

In the same way, our text today is a story of sides. And of choices. We are in the portion of Matthew that is called the Eschatological Discourse - a discussion about the end times. About Jesus’ second coming. In Matthew, this discourse between Jesus and disciples begins with one question asked by the disciples at the beginning of chapter 24. It is asked by them in response to a comment made by Jesus in the temple - that no stone in the temple would remain. That everything will be demolished. This makes the disciples wonder. So, later, they come to Jesus privately and ask the question: “Tell us, when will these things happen? What will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?”

In response to this question, Jesus describes the signs in heaven and on earth that will precede the end. Then, Jesus goes on to stress that no one knows the day or the hour, not even him. And that, while the disciples wait, they should remain vigilant, ready for Christ’s return. 

Jesus goes on, then, as he often does in Matthew, to illustrate his point through the use of parables. Four parables. Last week, we heard one of the four. The Parable of the Talents (The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids). Today, we hear the last of the four. The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.

The main character in our parable is that of a king. A monarch. One who will sit on his throne before all of the nations with all people gathered in front of him. And, then, just like a shepherd in ancient days, the king will separate the people. Setting them apart in two groups. The sheep on one side. And the goats on the other.  

Notice that, in this parable, Jesus, as he often does, makes use of everyday things. In today’s lesson, it’s about shepherding practices. It would have been common knowledge in ancient times that a shepherd tending a herd of goats and sheep would separate the two at night. During the day, they would graze together. But, at night, they would be separated because sheep prefer to spend the night in the open air. And goats, well, they like the warmth of a shelter. Plus, goats could be trouble-makers at times. So, at night, the shepherd would separate them. 

It would also be a common understanding that sheep were more valuable than goats. Not only did they provide food, they also provided wool, milk for cheese, and other products. They were also used more than any other animal for sacrifice in the temple.

So the king separates the nations like sheep and goat. The sheep to the right. The goats to the left. The King will turn to those on his right. (In ancient days, to be placed at the right hand of a king meant that you were in the king’s favor. One of the chosen ones. Set apart.) So, the king will turn and say to those on his right, “Come and receive the blessings you have inherited from my Father.” They have not been placed there because of their superior knowledge of scripture. Or their exceptional spiritual gifts. But, because they have shown mercy and compassion to the hungry. To the thirsty. To the stranger. The naked. The sick. The imprisoned. That in serving those on the edges of society - the marginalized - they have been unknowingly serving the king.

Those on the right. The righteous. Do you notice that they are completely unaware of what they have done? They have not been acting in a calculated way to earn the king’s favor. But, they have simply been doing what is natural for them. They have responded to God’s gift of grace by serving those in need. They will be gathered with the king and be given unending life.

And, then, there are those on the left. Those who are not in the king’s favor. Those with whom the king is displeased. Like those on the right, they, too, have been doing what is natural for them. They have been looking out for their own interests. They have not been bothered by the needs of others. They, too, like those on the right, are also surprised to learn that they have encountered the king. In the marginalized and the powerless. And, in their encounter with them - with the “least of these,” they have shown which side they are on. They are cast away from the king. Into the darkness. Into unending fire. Into eternal punishment. Just as the unfaithful servant, the foolish bridesmaids, and the unfaithful servant. 

Sisters and brothers, this can be a difficult parable for us. This discourse on end times. On Jesus’ second coming. On the judgment of the world. It is not something we like to think about. Yet, this parable is a fitting conclusion for our learning about the ways of God’s kingdom. Because, if there is no final judgment in God’s kingdom, that means that God does not care about the injustice and the suffering in our world.

But, God does care. God cares about it so much that, beginning in the very next chapter, we will see how Jesus bore this injustice and brokenness and suffering in his own body. To triumph over it. To defeat evil and death. As a ransom for all nations. As a ransom for us. For me. And for you.

Yet, even as Christ is now raised from the dead, highly exalted, and seated far above rule and authority, Jesus is not apart from us. Jesus is not distant and aloof. Jesus meets us here. In the bread and the wine, in his body and blood. Jesus meets us here in our brokenness. And continues to transform us. So that we might go out into the world and meet Jesus in the faces of the broken and powerless. In the needs of our suffering world.

Today we are commemorating the 25th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide. It was a time when those in power in that country murdered over 10% of their population, simply because they were of a different ethnic group. 

So, which side are you on? Are you on the side of the powerful? Or the powerless? Are you on the side of the transformed, those who seek to live lives of service to those who have no power in response to God’s radical gift of grace? Or on the side of those who aren’t, who live in the selfish ways of the world, in the ways of their own interest instead of the ways of God’s kingdom? 

May God work in us to choose the side of the weak and the powerless. To live in the ways of God’s kingdom. Ways of forgiveness, generosity, and hospitality. Ways of vigilance and trustworthiness. And, particularly in the way of service. In God’s way of service. A  way that is so desperately needed by our broken world. May God grant it.  Amen. 

Preached April 7, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Readings: Matthew 25:31-46, Psalm 98:7-9

The Ways of the Kingdom: Trustworthiness

“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ Matthew 25:14-30 (NRSV)

You don’t know me. But, we have a lot in common. You are people of the Good News. So was I. You are people, this year, learning from Matthew’s gospel. When I was alive, I did, too. The difference between us was that I heard Matthew’s gospel from Matthew himself. I was a member of Matthew’s church and of the community that centered itself around Matthew’s teachings in the late first century, around year 80 of the Common Era, which we are all part of.

Ours was a time of complete chaos. In the year 70, Jerusalem was completely destroyed. And just as Jesus has predicted, the temple was also destroyed. You have to understand how hard that was on our faith and our ancestry. With the destruction of the temple, we lost the entire structure of our religion. It would almost be like if, in your country, all of your churches would be destroyed. But, that would only be part of it. Because the temple was everything to us. It was the place we went to make sacrifice. To receive forgiveness. And blessing. To hear the Torah read and interpreted. It was completely central to our faith.

By my time, many of the different sects in our faith had disappeared. The priests. The Essenes. And others. This left only two remaining groups, each one claiming to be the heir to our faith. And the ones to interpret our religious traditions. These two groups were the Pharisees and the Christians. I am a Christian. 

Without the temple, the center of our religion shifted to synagogues, which are more like your churches. They were decentralized. Based in different communities and contexts. In our synagogue, we would hear Matthew tell stories about Jesus and Jesus’ teachings. None of these were written down until our time. Mark’s community wrote theirs first. Then, our community wrote what you’ve been reading. The good news of Matthew.  As we heard these early stories about Jesus and Jesus’ teachings, Matthew would try to help us understand who we were in this battle of ideas and religious beliefs. He would emphasize that our beliefs were the ones that were consistent with what Jesus taught. Not the Pharisees’ traditions.

So, what does all of this have to do with the parable that you heard today? Well, the parable part of a teaching in chapters 24 and 25 of our gospel. Today, your scholars call this Matthew’s “Eschatological Discourse.” Eschatology is a fancy name for the study of the end times. For teachings about the parousia, which is a fancy Greek word that means Jesus’ second coming.

You see, we expected to see Jesus come again in our lifetime. Jesus’ coming to earth, as we understood it, was the beginning of God’s reign here on earth. It was the beginning. But not the end. So, the disciples wanted to know what the signs would be of his second coming. Jesus talked about the chaos that would happen, chaos that felt a lot like our own time. And that might feel like your’s, too. But, Jesus told them not to be fooled. That these things would not mark the end. 

Then, Jesus told them what would mark the end. That the sun would become dark. The moon wouldn’t give off its light. The stars would fall from the sky and the planets and other heavenly bodies would be shaken. Then, his sign - the sign of the Human One - would appear in the sky. That would mark the end. That would be the time that the Chosen Ones would be gathered from the four corners of the earth.

So, Jesus told them that they had to be prepared. They had to keep watch. Because no one, not even Jesus, would know when this would happen. Only God would.

Matthew told us the disciples had a hard time understanding this. So, Jesus told them four parables. The first two - the parable of the Faithful and the Unfaithful Servants and the parable of the Ten Young Women - we’ll save for another time. Today, I want to help you understand the Parable of the Talents.

First of all, you need to understand the meaning of the word “talent.” You use it very differently than we did. For us, a talent was money. It was a coin that was equal to fifteen years’ wages. It was the largest sum of money in our world. You might compare it to a million dollars in your world. 

So, in the parable, there is a wealthy landowner who goes on a long trip. This wasn’t unusual in our world. Many wealthy people traveled to distant places for long periods of time. So, while they were gone, they would entrust us to manage their affairs.

What is unusual with this story is how much the servants were entrusted with. The wealthy landowner took a big risk in giving out these large sums of money. Each of the servants was given an amount that was consistent with their abilities. 

So, the first one was given 5 talents. Think 5 million dollars. He worked quickly and efficiently. Starting a business. You would say that he was an entrepreneur with a start up. He invested all 5 million dollars into it. It was huge risk. 

The second one was given 2 talents. Like the first, he, too, created a start up. Investing his entire 2 million dollars into it. Another big risk-taker.

The third one was given 1 talent. In your terms, 1 million dollars. But, he was different that the first two. He acted in a way that was typical in our time. Because burying money was the safest way to protect it in our day. Plus, whoever buried the money was not considered liable for it. So, he acted properly. According the standards of our day. 

Then, after a long time away, the wealthy owner returned to settle his accounts with his three servants. When he heard of the success of the first two, he called them “good” and “faithful.” The owner had taken a huge risk in trusting them with so much of his money. The two servants had taken huge risks. But the risks paid off for everyone. Because of this, the owner gave them more responsibility. He asked them to risk more.

Then, there is the third servant. Probably not very different from you and I. Following the accepted practices of his time. But, there is a problem. This servant has not taken any risks. He has played it safe. He is afraid of the owner. And, because of this, he has hidden the money. Buried it. When he returns the same amount of money to the owner, the owner is furious. He calls him “lazy,” which is a word that would be used for someone who lacks the desire to do any work. Someone who allows safety and convenience to keep them from moving from thought to action. So, the money given to this servant is taken away. It is given to the first servant, who now has $11 million. The owner sends the third servant away. To the same place as the evildoers, the improperly clothed guest from the parable you heard last week. Away from the owner’s presence.

Sisters and brothers, this story is about you and I. We are all waiting for Jesus’ second coming. But this story is not about the parousia. It’s not about Jesus’ second coming. It’s about how we are to live as we wait. We are all people of the “already” and the “not yet.” We all live in the tension of the time between Jesus’ first coming and his second. Between the in-breaking of God’s reign into our world and the fullness of time, when God alone will rule over this earth. When all evil will be destroyed. 

This story is about how you and I are to live in this in-between time. As Jesus people. A Jesus who was rejected and crucified for us. Who was resurrected for us. Unlike the owner in the parable, Jesus promises to be with us. To walk beside us. Because, you see, God has taken a huge risk with us. God has poured out God’s grace on us in abundance. So, while we are waiting. While we are living in the tension of the already/not, we are to be trustworthy with that grace. Not to be people of comfort and complacency. But to be risk-takers like the first two servants. Risk-takers with God’s abundant grace. 

“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Are you ready to risk?

Preached March 31, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fourth Sunday in Lent
Readings: Matthew 25:14-30, Psalm 43:3-4

Faith in God's Promises: Waiting and Watching

The oracle that Habakkuk the prophet saw.

Lord, how long will I call for help and you not listen?
        I cry out to you, “Violence!”
            but you don’t deliver us.
Why do you show me injustice and look at anguish
        so that devastation and violence are before me?
There is strife, and conflict abounds.
        The Instruction is ineffective.
            Justice does not endure
            because the wicked surround the righteous.
        Justice becomes warped.

The Lord responds:
Look among the nations and watch!
        Be astonished and stare
            because something is happening in your days
                that you wouldn’t believe even if told.
I am about to rouse the Chaldeans,
        that bitter and impetuous nation,
            which travels throughout the earth to possess dwelling places it does not own.
The Chaldean is dreadful and fearful.
        He makes his own justice and dignity.

I will take my post;
        I will position myself on the fortress.
        I will keep watch to see what the Lord says to me
        and how he will respond to my complaint.

Then the Lord answered me and said,
Write a vision, and make it plain upon a tablet
    so that a runner can read it.
        There is still a vision for the appointed time;
            it testifies to the end;
                it does not deceive.
    If it delays, wait for it;
        for it is surely coming; it will not be late.
Some people’s desires are truly audacious;
            they don’t do the right thing.
        But the righteous person will live honestly.

God comes from Teman
        and the holy one from the mountain of Paran.
His majesty covers the heavens
        and his praise fills the earth.
His radiance is like the sunlight,
        with rays flashing from his hand.
        That is the hiding place of his power.
Pestilence walks in front of him.
        Plague marches at his feet.
He stops and measures the earth.
        He looks and sets out against the nations.
The everlasting mountains collapse;
        the eternal hills bow down;
        the eternal paths belong to him.
Though the fig tree doesn’t bloom,
            and there’s no produce on the vine;
        though the olive crop withers,
            and the fields don’t provide food;
        though the sheep are cut off from the pen,
            and there are no cattle in the stalls;
I will rejoice in the Lord.
        I will rejoice in the God of my deliverance.
The Lord God is my strength.
        He will set my feet like the deer.
        He will let me walk upon the heights.  Habakkuk 1:1-7; 2:1-4; 3:3b-6, 17-19 (CEB)

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

As we began worship today, I mentioned that one focus today was the issue of injustice. We will get to that topic in a moment. There is a second focus in our text this morning from the prophet Habakkuk. (How often have we read from this prophet?) That second focus is the topic of waiting.

Waiting. Who here likes to wait? Anyone? What are some of the things that we wait for? 

Sometimes it can seem to take forever for something to happen, especially if we’re hoping for something good. Time can seem to slow to a standstill. At the time that Habakkuk was written, God’s people had been waiting a long time for a savior. For a Messiah. They’d been waiting for centuries. They envisioned a powerful leader. A king who would defeat their enemies. And restore their people and the kingdom. 

They trusted God. But, just like us, it was hard to have patience. It was hard to keep the faith. As they witnessed more and more injustice in their world, it was hard to believe that this promised Messiah would come. It was hard to wait. 

It is here where Habakkuk opens. With a lament. “How long, O Lord? How long will I call for help and you not listen? I cry out to you, “Violence!” but you don’t deliver us.”

We know very little about this prophet. We believe that Habakkuk lived in southern Judah just before Jerusalem would be destroyed by the Babylonians. Like the other prophets we’ve heard from, he was no stranger to the unfaithfulness of God’s people to the covenant. But, unlike the other prophets, this wasn’t his primary focus. Rather than speaking out against Judah, Habakkuk questions God. And God’s methods and timing. “Lord, how long? There is strife and conflict abounds. The Instruction. Or the Torah. Or your Word! Is ineffective. There is no justice because the wicked surround those who are righteous. So, justice has become warped. How long, God, will you allow this to be?”

Have you ever lamented like this to God? Have you ever cried out, “How long, O Lord?” We look out at a world where it seems evil has the upper hand. Where those who are wicked seem to be winning in this world. Where those who are good are the losers. Where the faithful suffer. Where bad things happen to good people. And so, we cry out to God, “How long?”

God responds. But not in the way that Habakkuk wants. “Behold,” God responds. “I am sending the Chaldeans (or the Babylonians). That fierce and impetuous people who march through the earth. Who seize dwelling places that are not theirs. They are dreaded and feared. They create their own justice and authority.”

“What?!?” Habakkuk cries. He believed that God was going to end injustice, not raise up another people who build their entire empire on injustice. He could accept God judging the guilty, but the Babylonians are even worse than the Assyrians. Or Judah. 

So, then, Habakkuk makes his primary complaint against God. In verse 13 of chapter 1. “Your eyes are too pure to approve evil. You cannot look on wickedness with favor,” he says to God. “Why are you silent when the wicked swallow up the ones who are more righteous than they are?” Habakkuk demands an answer from God. He describes himself as a vigilant guard at his post on the watchtower. Waiting for God’s response. 

Then, in this continuing back and forth between Habakkuk and God, God responds a second time. “There is still a vision for the appointed time,” God says. “It testifies to the end; it does not deceive. If it delays, wait for it; for it is surely coming; it will not be late.” 

God tells Habakkuk to write down this vision. To write it onto tablets so that everyone can read it. A vision about an appointed time when God will bring judgment against Babylon. But, not just Babylon. Like the other prophets before him, Habakkuk uses cosmic language. Language that goes beyond only Babylon, or any single nation, but language that confronts the horrific and unjust practices that are shared among all evil nations. “Doom to those who plunder, who obtain gain through evil means. To those who build towns by bloodshed. To those who humiliate others. To those who trust in idols. Doom to them!” 

God stands above and against all this evil. Habakkuk’s God. Our God. Whose majesty covers the heavens. Whose praise fills the earth. Whose radiance is like the sunlight with rays flashing from his hand - the hiding place of his power. Who destroys pestilence and plague. Who looks and sets out against evil nations. For whom the mountains collapse. The hills bow down. The paths belong.

“So, be faithful,” God tells Habakkuk. “Because, I will hold them to account. In the meantime, be faithful. Because, even though others do evil, the righteous will live by faith.”

The righteous will live by faith. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done, isn’t it? This faith thing. When we look at our world and it seems as though everything is evil. Or it seems that God’s Word no longer is effective. Or the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Or even when we look at our own lives, and it feels as though everything is falling apart.  Sometimes this living by faith is just hard. What are we to believe? How does this vision help us when we are struggling with injustice, whether it is injustice in our broader world or what just feels unfair in our own lives?

To answer this, I will need 3-4 volunteers. Come together in a circle. It is here, in the center, where God is. Now stay exactly where you are, but turn around, facing out. When I tell you to take one step, everyone should take one small step out. 

Injustice has a tendency to separate us from God and from others around us. When we see poverty and try to protect what is ours. (Take one step.) When we pretend we don’t see a bully or an abuser. (Take one step.) When we mistrust someone based simply on their appearance. (Take one step.) When we see suffering or lack of hope in another and do nothing. (Take one step.)

Do you see how injustice separates us from each other? How it isolates us from others so we see only ourselves and no one else. And, especially, do you see how it separates us from God?

What happens when we turn back to God? When the central focus in our life is God?  (Everyone turn around.) When we share the blessings God has given us with others. (Take one step in.) When we stand up to those who are being harmed by others. (Take one step in.) When we see others who are hurting, others who are created by God, and seek to comfort them. (Take one step in.) This is what happens when our focus is back on God. (Volunteers may be seated.)

In this time between. Between the breaking into the world of God’s kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ. Emmanuel. God with us. Between Christ’s first coming to deliver and redeem us and the time when Christ will come again and God’s kingdom will come in all its fullness. In this time between, as we wait for the day of distress to come against the people or those things that attack us, we are called to be faithful. To put our focus on God, our gracious God. To worship God fully, with our whole hearts. And to work for justice. Because when we do this, we are doing God’s will. We are becoming more fully who we are meant to be as God’s people. We see those who are suffering and we reach out to them. And we are all brought together. With God in our midst.

“I will rejoice in the Lord. I will rejoice in the God of my deliverance.” Habakkuk proclaims. “The Lord God is my strength. God will set my feet like the deer. God will let me walk upon the heights.” Amen.

Preached December 2, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Advent 1
Readings: Habakkuk 1:1-7; 2:1-4; 3:3b-6, 17-19; Matthew 26:36-38.