A Clenched Fist

Luke 19:1-10

 

        (sing)      Zacchaeus was a wee little man,

                        And a wee little man was he.

                        He climbed up in a sycamore tree,

                        The Lord he wanted to see.  (stop)

 

        How many of you have heard that song? Do you remember where you learned it? I first heard it the basement of Memorial Presbyterian Church in Greensboro, North Carolina in 1955. 64 years and I still can’t get it out of my head. Bill Haley was singing Rock around the Clock. Tennessee Ernie Ford was crooning Sixteen Tons.  Oklahoma was selling out on Broadway and I am still singing, Zacchaues was a wee little man and a wee little man was he.  WHY? Because before there was Randy Newman, before there was Napoleon and his complex, there was short little guy who liked to climb trees. In 1955 I was tall for my age but I was only five. Do you remember what it was like being five? You rode in the back of the family car and watched the top of telephone poles. You wanted to play baseball with the neighborhood kids but you are only tall enough to be second base. I don’t mean the position, I mean the actual base. And then along comes Zacchaeus . Like me, he was short. Like me, he wanted to see what was going on. Unlike me he lived in a land of low hanging branches.

According to the story word got around that a parade was coming. I hated it when the Christmas parade came to town. When I was three, dad put me on his shoulders and I could see everything. But when I was five my little sister took my place.  It was four more years before I was tall enough to see Santa and by then I didn’t believe he was real. 

Zacchaeus didn’t believe in Santa either. He didn’t believe in much of anything except himself. Yet when word got around that the miracle man was stopping off before heading to the capital, Zacchaeus made plans to see him. Was he curious? Did he think Jesus would make him tall? The story doesn’t tell us the reason. All we know is Zacchaeus would not be denied in his quest to see Jesus.

 You know the story as well as I. He discovered the parade route, picked the perfect tree, climbed up and waited. Jesus appeared, saw the wee little man, and called up to him. “Zacchaeus, I am going to your house for dinner.”

When you are five years old ……. and a member of the kindergarten Sunday School class …….. most teachers aren’t going to tell you that Zacchaeus was not a very nice man. Mrs. Cartledge was not the exception to the rule. She taught us Zacchaeus was small and so were we. But take heart. Jesus sees you, Jesus loves you, and Jesus will walk with  you when you enter the first grade.

A lot of folks were taught the Zacchaeus story by their own Mrs. Cartledge. A lot of folks remember the cute little song. But too few folks go to Sunday School long enough to hear the real story.  Zacchaeus was short on morals, short on integrity, and short on principles. In other words, Zacchaeus was a scoundrel. He is the used car salesman who sells you a beauty of a deal that two weeks before was hauled in with a blown engine. He is the guy who sells you a reversed mortgage and tells you not to worry about the fine print. He is the guy who always has his mind, and his heart, and his fist, clenched.

Zacchaeus was a tax collector. In other words he was a collaborator with an oppressive foreign government whose sole objective was to suck the very life out of the common citizen. This is the way the game was played.  Rome had an army to feed. Rome had roads it wanted to build back home. So Rome took thirty cents on the dollar and gave nothing back. As long as Rome got its thirty cents it did not care what the tax collector charged. A person like Zacchaeus often charged as much as forty cents on the dollar and kept the ten cents difference. Rome protected its collectors to ensure the flow of money was continuous.

The people of Jericho hated Zacchaeus. They hated the way he cheated them. They hated the protection he received from Rome. Most of all they hated his clenched fist which seemed to be both a threat and a symbol of what was being stolen from them.

Jesus walked through Jericho. He looked up and saw a pathetic little man way up in the branches. He hollered up at him, “Zacchaeus”. Everyone fell quiet knowing what was going to happen next. At the very least Jesus was going to expose him as a crooked little man. At the very worst Jesus was going to zap the branch of the tree causing the scoundrel to fall to his well deserved death. But that is not what happened. Jesus said, “Come out of the tree. I need for you to feed me dinner.”

I am not sure who was more surprised, Zacchaeus or the good folks of Jericho who hated his guts. Everyone looked up, except Zacchaeus, who stared down at the man who had invited himself to dinner. Zacchaeus had a choice. He could stay in the tree or he could have dinner with a stranger. Choice number two presented a problem. How could he get down out of the tree with his fist clinched?

Ever so slowly, Zacchaeus pried open his fingers. Ever so slowly, God pried open his mind. Ever so slowly, Jesus pried open his heart,  and miraculously, Zacchaeus was no longer a “wee little man.”

To God be the glory. Amen.                

Persistence

Luke 18:1-8

 

        One of the first theological lessons I had to learn was God is not Santa Claus. Wouldn’t that be wonderful if God was Santa? We could just make our list, check it twice, and then wait for God to somehow make our wildest dreams come true. But that is just not the case. I can’t tell you how often I’ve had folks ask me to pray for their particular situation. Prayer is a powerful tool. It gives us comfort. It invites the praying community to share in our anxiety. But often the outcome we experience is not the outcome we desired. Does this mean we should not pray? HEAVENS NO! Prayer is a pure expression of faith. Prayer is our acknowledgment of the power and grace of God.  Prayer is our way of asking God what we can do. Through prayer, God opens doors everyone assumed was shut.  

        In 1986 I met the widow mentioned in our New Testament text. She lived in Mexico City which months before had undergone a horrific earthquake. Even today we have no idea how many people lost their lives, either because of the destruction or the health crisis that followed. Mexico City is an area that has consistently built housing skyward despite the knowledge that the city sits on the Middle American Trench. That fateful morning over 4,000 multistoried buildings were destroyed. Another 12,000 were declared uninhabitable. No one could even begin to estimate the number of displaced people. Sophia Morales was one of those people. Her building was declared unsafe. She and her family were placed on the streets to fend for themselves. Unlike thousands of others displaced folks, she began to pray. And much to the discomfort of the mayor of Mexico City, she did more than just fall on her knees.

        Many of the first responders to the earthquake were rescue workers from Germany and Canada. They initially came with food and medical supplies. They  also promised building supplies for those who were able to rebuild. Sophia organized the families from her building and together they approached the aid workers. The families were told if the government would either demolish the building or give them land on which to build, materials needed to rebuild would be forthcoming. The catch was the families would have construct building. This discouraged many folks. They were not construction workers. Sophia’s group dwindled to five families.  But that is all it took.

        For five consecutive months, six days a week, Sophia and a member of her group went to the mayor’s office to ask the mayor for a small piece of land. After their initial contact with the mayor, it was a month before they saw him again. But each morning they showed up. Sometimes they met a representative of the mayor. Sometimes they saw no one. But they kept going. Initially they were told the mayor was looking for land. Then they were told there were too many similar requests. During the third month they were escorted from the Federal Building daily. By the fourth month they were told to be patient. And then in February, five months after the earthquake, the mayor announced land had been found. The next day the five families began to clear the land. When I met with Sophia and her group in April, the group had completed the structure for the first floor and was starting on the second story.

        When Sophia concluded her story, I asked what held the five families together. “That is easy. These were the families from our Bible study group. We formed it over two years ago. We used to meet three nights a week. Since the earthquake we have met every night. This is what gives us hope. When the earthquake hit we were in the midst of a study on the book of Luke. When the workers from Canada and Germany promised us supplies we had just read about the widow who pestered the wicked judge to death. We thought to ourselves, “We will be the widow.” Our studies taught us that God is not only a God of love, God is a God of justice. As long as we were faithful, the mayor never stood a chance.”

        I often think about Sophia Morales. I think about her when I see folks in Haiti trying once again to rebuild their nation. I have been to Haiti. They are a very religious people who daily turn to God for inspiration.  They will rebuild no matter what nature and government institutions continue to throw in their direction.

        I think of Sophia Morales when I hear the dreadful stories coming out of Chicago. Why? Because the one group making inroads into the lives of young people in the inner city of Chicago is the Black Church.

        I think of Sophia Morales every time I hear a young person quote the words from Maya Angelou’s poem, “Still I Rise.”  I heard Maya speak once and she said it was not the God of conformity, the God of Justice that gave her the voice to not only pray but speak out against the sexual abuse she had received as a child.

        Leaving behind the nights of terror and fear,

                I rise,

        Into a daybreak that is wondrously clear,

                I rise,

        Giving the gifts my ancestors gave,

Into hopes and dreams of the slave,

                I still rise.

 

        We should think of Sophia Morales every time we come to God in prayer. We should remember Sophia Morales every time we reach for the Ben Gay after an hour at our community wood pile.         We should think of Sophia Morales anytime we hesitate to go help with the back packs, or the garden, or the senior luncheons. I hope you will think of Sophia Morales next week when during worship we are reminded of how many unknown folks we help with our time and talents. Prayer is a powerful tool. Persistent prayer inspires us to become the tool God uses to answer prayer. You build homes, You light fires, You provide food, You offer hope where none can be found.

        Taking prayer seriously erects hope where hope had been all but forgotten.

        Taking prayer seriously celebrates justice for those without influence or power.

        Taking prayer seriously is a dangerous endeavor for the wicked, a foolish endeavor for the lazy, and a hopeless endeavor for the satisfied.

        I know you are persistent in your prayer life. I experience it in our joys and concerns every Sunday morning. I know you are persistent in your presence. I see you at the wood pile, the garden, the food closets, the hospitals and the homes of those who are sick.  And I know  sometimes we wonder if we are actually making a difference.  Sophia would say yes. The people of Nelson County would say yes. Most importantly God is saying, “Well done good and faithful people. Your persistent love, your persistent labors, and your persistent generosity are answers to prayer.”

        So keep on praying,

Keep on working,

Keep on giving.

You are a light to this valley.

                                  Amen.  

Thank You

Luke 17:11-19

        Congregation sings verse 1 of Hymn 15

All Creatures of our God and King, Lift up your voice and with us sing.

Alleluia (2x)

Thou brother sun with golden beam, O sister moon with silver gleam.

Sing praises, Alleluia (4 times)

 

        There are three things on which you can count: taxes, death, and if it is October, Stewardship Season. I am at a huge disadvantage this year. Many of you still remember the sermon Ron Culberson preached.  I know what you are thinking. That sermon was marvelous. It had us laughing, it had us crying, and it had us sitting by our mail boxes just waiting for the Stewardship Letter so we could joyfully and faithfully fill it out. I am the first to admit the job Ron did last year blew back everyone’s hair  but his. I started to ask him for a repeat performance, but once you paint the Mona Lisa, what do you do next? So I am the alternative. If I bore you, shut your eyes and dream of Ron.

Congregation sings Verse 2 of Hymn 15

O brother wind with clouds and rain, lift up your voice and with us sing,   Alleluia (2x)

O sister water flowing clear, make music for your Lord to hear,

Sing praises! Alleluia (4x)

 

        For children, is there a time more magical than Christmas? For 25 days, visions of sugar plums dance through their head. And then the magical moment arrives. The tree is surrounded by expected and unexpected treasures. Anticipation is so great that even Carly Simon can’t wait to dive in. Before the rooster crows living rooms are turned into disasters areas of ribbons and bows haphazardly tossed aside revealing the secrets that have plagued the minds of folks of all ages. Well that is what I have been told happens in most households. But then I didn’t have that marvelous experience.

        On Christmas morning my sisters and I were restrained at the top of the stairs. Being a good Presbyterian, even on Christmas my father did things in an orderly fashion. He led us downstairs where we each got to celebrate one gift brought by Santa. Then we retreated to the kitchen where we gave thanks and ate breakfast.

Congregation sings verse 3

O brother fire so warm and bright, chase off the shadows of the night.

Alleluia (2x)

Dear mother earth, who day by day, unfolds such blessings on our way,

Sing praises! Alleluia (4x)

 

        How can one eat when we have already witnessed the bounty in the other room? We knew any complaints would have been futile, and so we ate. The menu was always the same: a bowl of Oyster stew, a Smithfield ham biscuit, a cup of fruit cocktail. It was a wonderful breakfast which was never appreciated. But we sat and we ate, because we knew no one could leave the table until the Dad read the Christmas Story from Luke and that story would not be read until our plates were clean. 

For all the wrong reasons our hearts yearned for the gospel. We sat quietly, listening to a story whose conclusion would open the floodgate to our dreams. Every kid in the neighborhood had already broken half their toys and yet we sat, ticking off each component of a story we knew by heart. It was like a countdown. Emperor Augustus; No room in the Inn; shepherds in the field; Glory to God in the highest; Let us Bethlehem go and see those gifts waiting for us under the tree. We rushed into the living room …….. and sat down.

Congregation Sing verse 4

All who for love of God forgive, all who in pain and sorrow grieve.

Alleluia (2x)

Christ bears your burdens and your fears, so even in the midst of tears.

Sing praises, Alleluia (4x)

 

          One at a time we opened a gift. One at a time we showed our gift to the rest of the family. One at a time we took the tag off the gift so later that day we could write a thank you note to the person who had remembered us. As a six year old I was confused by this tradition. As a 13 year old I resented that all my friends outside sharing their stuff while I was stuck in limbo participating in this awful ritual. But then one Christmas morning, something happened. I actually looked up and watched Mom open a gift. It was probably a rock painted with glitter yet she would smile and delightfully declare it was just what she needed. No matter the gift, she always stopped and gave thanks to the person who had remembered her. Her joy was always genuine.

        One day, Jesus ran across ten lepers. He felt compassion and healed them. All of the lepers leapt for joy. They couldn’t wait to see their loved ones and friends. But one stopped, returned, to Jesus, and said, “Thank you.”       

        I suspect for most of us Stewardship Season is a routine of discovering our card in the mailbox, giving it about a moment’s thought, generously making a pledge and then moving on. The church thanks you for your generosity. But to really get the most out of this season, when you get the card:

STOP,

REMEMBER,  

and THEN GIVE THANKS,

Not to Rockfish Presbyterian, but to God.

        Just take a moment to think about how much you have been blessed.

        Sing the 6^th verse.

O sisters brothers, take your part, and worship God with humble heart.

Alleluia(2x)

All creatures bless the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Three in One.

Sing Praises, Alleluia, (4x)

 

 

Amen.

 

 

Investing in Their Future

Luke 16:19-31; Jeremiah 32:6-15

 

        Sometimes Jesus said the strangest things. In Luke 16:13, Jesus insisted, “You cannot serve God and wealth.” The implication is if you have money you must be evil. That is as ridiculous as suggesting if you are poor you are blessed. Well Jesus said that too but we know he was speaking allegorically. On hearing both statements the Pharisees reacted vigorously. They pointed out that without money the synagogue could not exist and what on earth would people would do without the church.

        Instead of arguing, Jesus told a story. Once upon a time there was a rich man who loved to eat. Morning, noon, and evening he could be found surrounded by friends consuming the finest wines and the richest foods. Just outside the dining room was a beggar named Lazarus. The presence of the beggar never seemed to bother the rich man. As it turns out the only thing the beggar and the rich man had in common was they died on the same day. Here is where the story gets weird. The rich man faced eternal torment while Lazarus rested in the arms of Abraham. The rich man called out, “Father Abraham, send Lazarus down here that he might dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue.” Abraham refused.

The rich man tried again, “Send Lazarus to my house to warn my brothers not to live like me. Please Father Abraham, they would see the truth if they could hear it from someone who came back from the dead.” 

Abraham responded, “They have Moses and the prophets and they won’t listen to them. Why do you think they will listen to someone raised from the dead?” 

There are a number of rabbit holes we could take in looking at this text. The obvious is the turn or burn message. You have the wrong preacher to go down that road.

We could spend time looking at the Jewish understanding of afterlife as it evolved from a strict Deuteronomic Code to a curiosity based on Persian Folklore. But that sounds best suited for a Sunday School lesson. Besides, if I am going down a rabbit hole, I would rather travel with Jesus.

Jesus lived in two worlds. When preaching in the countryside Jesus was overwhelmed by request from the poor and the sick. Often poverty led to poor health. Certainly sickness leads to poverty. That is just as true today as it was 2,000 years ago. On the other hand Jesus got invited to eat out quite often. He would dine with folks who worked hard and their labors were rewarded. It was these folks who were privy to many of the stories Jesus told. Usually he was not as much concerned about wealth as he was about how one’s wealth was being used. After all Jesus did say, “To those to whom much has been given, much is expected.” So maybe this story is more about the line, “If they don’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they wouldn’t even listen to someone resurrected from the dead.”

The Pharisees were experts on Moses and the prophets.  They knew the law they loved evolved from the exploits of Moses, Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. They knew these prophets were visionaries. The prophets saw the conditions of today as a springboard for the possibilities of tomorrow.

A prime example would be the story of Jeremiah. If you have never read the book of Jeremiah don’t attempt it without alcohol. If Jeremiah hadn’t been a prophet he would have been a country music song writer. I think Jeremiah was probably the inspiration for the line, “Help me make it through the night.” Yet even Jeremiah could recognize the flicker of light that exposes itself just before the sunrise.

Jeremiah lived in horrific times. Jerusalem was being besieged by the armies of Babylon and he didn’t have to be a prophet to know things were going to end badly. Most folks were writing their last will and testament. Jeremiah decided to go into the real estate business. Let me put this into a perspective we can all understand. This would be like buying property in the Bahamas the day before Hurricane Dorian made landfall. What Jeremiah was about to buy would soon be worthless.  But Jeremiah did not live for the moment. This melancholy poet took the newly purchased bill of sell, placed it in an earthen pot, and planted it into the ground. He believed one day the Hebrew people would return to Jerusalem.  When they did, the land purchased would be the place a new beginning would begin.

This is a dominate message that resonated through the Old Testament and into the stories of Jesus. God wants us  to invest in the future of someone else. The Hebrews kept asking, “Am I my brother and sisters keeper?”  God’s answer was always, “Yes.” The Pharisees endlessly asked Jesus, “How do I become a good neighbor?” Jesus always responded, “By showing mercy.”

The sin of the rich man was not his wealth, it was his eyesight. Day after day Lazarus came to his house. Day after day Lazarus was unseen. Then one day God, who has a remarkable sense of irony, turned the tables on the rich man and he miraculously developed 20/20 vision.

Thanks to the generosity of this church Deb and I spent our last two weeks immersed in a journey which covered 2,000 years.  Part of our experience was exploring the most impressive cathedrals in the United Kingdom. I am not sure which was more inspiring, the end product or the stories of their construction.

Works of art like the cathedrals in Salisbury and Canterbury were not completed in a matter of years. In some cases the work took two or three generations. The men who began these projects knew their dream would never be completed in their lifetime. So they thought ahead. Massive trees were cut down to suspend the ceilings. Then seedlings were planted so the next generation could have an ample wood supply for the completion of the project.   The future was planned by those who would never see a finished product.  They invested in future of their grandchildren.

All of us have been blessed. Think of all the opportunities we have to invest in the future of our neighbors through simple acts of mercy. Many of you were teachers. Many of you worked in health care. You invested your talents on behalf of those around you. Today we continue to recognize the plight others and respond through our outreach ministries.  Next month all those programs will be on display during worship and we will have the chance to further support them with our hands and hearts.

But over the last few weeks we have witnessed a younger Lazarus standing outside our door. Children, articulate children, have spoken to Congress, to the United Nations, to us, about rising seas, melting glaciers, fossil fuels, and plastic waste that is killing our oceans. These young voices are asking us to invest in their future.

You see, if we look, if we listen, if we remember Jesus and the prophets, we might discover opportunities for transformation just outside our doorsteps.      Amen.

There is Always Something Left

Luke 14:7-11

 

        PK’s are never impressed with Church dinners. If you haven’t guessed PK’s are “preacher’s kids”. There are three basic rules associated with being a PK. These rules were passed down from my beloved father and I faithfully passed them down to my children.

        Rule #1 - PK’s will be at church whenever the doors open.

        Rule #2 – A PK is allowed only two responses, “Yes ma’am or No ma’am.”

        Rule #3, and this is the most important rule of all. Never, under any circumstances, go anyplace but the back of the line at a church dinner.

        Once, after missing out on deviled eggs three church dinners in a row, I asked my father why I always had to go to the back of the line. He frowned and said, “Luke 14:11.”

        I knew better than to ask my father what Jesus had said in the 14^th chapter of Luke. He already had me memorizing the names of the books of the Bible and I didn’t want to learn how to spell them. So I looked it up. “All who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

        I knew the meaning of the word humble. When you are PK that is one of the first word you are taught. It lesson comes immediately after uttering  the phrase, “I want.” But I had never heard the word exalted. I was only six and I don’t remember my Second Grade Primer exclaiming, “See Dick run. See Jane be exalted.” To avoid a confrontation I went back to the Book of Luke and read the whole story. 

Jesus and his disciples were invited to a wedding. They evidently arrived early and the place was half full. The disciples picked out what appeared to be the choice seats and sat down. Jesus quickly corrected them. “You might be taking a seat that has been designated for the parents of the bride or groom. Think how embarrassing it would be to be asked to move. Sit in the back. When the host comes and sees us, he can ask us to move forward. Be humble and people will invite you to move forward.”

My initially thought was no one has ever come to the back of the line and offered me a deviled egg. I realized the sayings of Jesus were too complex for my limited in-sights.

Even today, the idea of the first shall be last and the last first seems a bit farfetched. The New York Yankees have won 27 World Championships.  They didn’t accomplish that by being humble. In contrast the Montreal Expos/Washington Nationals have not won in 50 years. Isn’t that a long time to wait to be moved up to a better seat? What is Jesus trying to tell us?

In 1949 Howard Thurman wrote Jesus and the Disinherited. It begins, The significance of the religion of Jesus to people who stand with their backs against the wall has always seemed to me to be crucial. Why is it then that Christianity seems impotent to radically deal with injustice?

Thurman offers three truths that haunt the disenfranchised and one solution. The first is fear. Thurman calls it the persistent hound of hell. People in general have their cavalcade of fears. Those at the back of line daily live with fears we never consider. Some folks, just down the road from us, live from one pay check to pay check. That is frightening.  Some folks, just down the road from us, have to decide on spending their pay check on food or medicine. That is frightening. Some folks, just down the road from us, are frightened when they see blinking police lights in their rear view mirror.  That is their reality, not ours.

The second is deception. Thruman claims this is the oldest of all techniques by which the weak protect themselves from the strong. It is a technique used by the Psalmist. The king has done something outrageous. The people are outraged and turn to the poet. If the poet stirs up the people, soldiers will descend on the weak. So the poet prays to God. The Psalm describes the outrage but the words are addressed to a heavenly source. The king can only bow his head. Violence is avoided, but the conditions remain. The strategy is tragic but the weak survive.

The third is hate. Hatred cannot be defined, only described. Some of you remember Pearl Harbor. All of us remember 9/11. As a nation we wanted revenge. We act righteously and in some cases unrighteously. In 1941 Japanese-Americans were interned in prison camps in Arkansas.  In 2001, anyone from the Middle East was eyed suspiciously as an enemy. Even today too often a person is condemned because of the color of their skin. Occasionally preachers like myself will offer sanctimonious words from the pulpit, but those words are forgotten by both the spokesman and the audience before lunch. Hate is so easily justified by righteous indignation because the pronoun in our hateful speech is always “They”.

Jesus was born an outsider. The color of his skin was brown. The Jewish people were dominated by Rome and Rome was to be feared. The Jews used polite deceptions to try to overcome the dominance of this Empire. The Governor of Rome hated his position and he hated the people under his thumb. Jesus was no exception.

Jesus could have grabbed a sword and started a revolt. Some expected it. He could have retreated into the desert and started a prayer group. Many would have eagerly followed. Instead Jesus told stories. Amazingly, so many of those stories revolved around a simple theme. Every person is essentially another person’s neighbor. Jesus said loving that neighbor began by breaking down every barriers. Think of all the stories. The obvious is the Good Samaritan. But it didn’t end there. He told stories about broken relationships, stories about lost sheep, stories about widows, and stories about lepers. No one hung out with the sick, the blind, the gentiles, the Pharisees, the good, the bad the ugly like Jesus.  He sat with friends and enemies, truth tellers and manipulators, rich and poor, good and evil. It didn’t matter. You invite Jesus to lunch, he would show up. He would do anything but go to the head of the table. And why was that? Jesus knew there was always someone there who had been labeled as unworthy, so Jesus offered up his seat to them.

Jesus entered a world which lived by two basic truths. The first was, “An eye for an eye.” The second was similar. “Vengeance is mine.” Jesus rejected both. He claimed the Spirit of God had fallen upon him to preach good news to the poor, the sick, the lame, the broken, the forgotten, and the disinherited.” His motto was, “God loves you, God forgives you, and so do I.” Imagine what the world would be like if fear, deception, and hate could be nullified by love. Maybe the world Jesus longs to see begins when folks like us are willing to head for the back of the line.

To God Be the Glory.   Amen.