"What Kind of King?" A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Reign of Christ Sunday.

"What Kind of King?"

Jeremiah 23:1-8; Luke 23:33-43

Reign of Christ Sunday

            We have come to the last Sunday of the Church year:  Christ the King Sunday, which is also known the Reign of Christ Sunday.  The scriptures and the songs this Sunday give testimony to how Jesus is God’s way of ruling in this world and in the world to come. 

            In a presidential election year in the United States, politics take center stage during a long campaign and in the months that follow.  Much of the focus of the campaign has been on leadership, temperament, experience, and fitness to lead the country.  What kind of leader do people want?  In the days following the election, political pundits are speculating on what kind of president Donald Trump will be.  What kind of leaders will he choose for his cabinet and staffing the administration?  How will newly elected leaders at all levels of government conduct themselves?  The possible answers to these questions have energized or emboldened some and terrified others, and our nation remains deeply divided. 

            So I’m grateful that Christ the King Sunday comes when it does.  A short time after we elect a person to be the leader of the free world, the most powerful person on the planet, the feast of Christ the King reminds us that no matter who has been elected, God is still sovereign over all the universe, and that God in Christ is the true model for moral and just leadership.

            The feast of Christ the King was a late addition to the church’s calendar.  It was inaugurated by Pope Pius XI in 1925, in the attempt to resist political demagogues and their messages.   While the church had always celebrated images of Christ as King, the church seemed to need a special day to remind them who was in charge. 

            On the first celebration of Christ the King, Mussolini had been head of Italy for three years and had established himself as dictator.  A rabble-rouser named Hitler had been out of jail for a year, and his Nazi party was growing in popularity.  And the world lay in a Great Depression.

            In such a time, Pope Pius asserted that Christ is “King of the Universe.”   The feast of Christ the King became the church’s great “nevertheless” to tyrants and dictators and their messages and to the growing modern notion that religion was now a “private affair.”  The pope thought the time was right to re-focus on the One who is ultimately the king in our lives, as people of faith.  No matter what—nevertheless-- Jesus Christ is Lord and he shall reign for ever and ever.   

                       

            All of the Scripture readings today speak of a very different kind of king.  In the Hebrew Scripture lesson, the prophet Jeremiah speaks to the intense longing of the people of Israel for a different kind of king.  He  proclaims a word of hope that God will send the leader they need—a king who will deal wisely and execute justice and righteousness in the land, during whose reign the people will live in safety.[1]   

            The disciples who remembered the story of Jesus on the cross remembered a different kind of king, who had compassion for the suffering of the criminal on the cross beside him.  And so, when Luke wrote his Gospel, he pictured Jesus as a king who was very different from the kind of Messiah many people were hoping for, which was a powerful military ruler who would deliver them from their oppressors—the Roman Empire.

            The letter to the Colossians is written to encourage people in a world where the leaders have betrayed the people, a time of persecution for the church.  In the face of pain and suffering, people of faith could say that Jesus Christ is a very different kind of king—the one in whom we see God with our own human eyes…the one through whom we are able to see all things in a new light.

This letter to a persecuted and threatened little church summons the faithful to sing of Jesus, “He is the image of the invisible God…whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him….   In him all things hold together.”   This is language that can help us to imagine what it means to be “transferred into the kingdom of God’s beloved son.”   Christ is the “image of the invisible God”…the icon or window that becomes more and more transparent and helps us to see more and more of the ongoing appearing of God in the world.

                         

            In each of the scripture passages the lectionary has given us today,

and each of the hymns—a claim is being made about power…and about ultimate rule, about who’s in charge.  We can find comfort and assurance, knowing that the kingdoms of this world may totter and sway, but the kingdom of God endures. 

            The passage we heard from Jeremiah begins with a woe oracle: “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!”[2]  Blame clearly rests here on the “shepherds,” a well-known metaphor for kings in both the ancient Near Eastern world and in the biblical texts.  Since the leaders had failed to take care of the people as shepherds are meant to take care of their flocks, God promises to attend to them for their “evil doings.”  The leaders wouldn’t have wanted to hear this word from God:  “You have not attended to them.  So I will attend to you.”[3]

            This was a common theme during this time.  The prophet Ezekiel used a similar image and spelled out in more detail the failure of the leaders.  Rather than feeding the sheep, they have fed themselves, gathering the fat and the wool for their own use, literally living off the “fat of the land.”

            They have not strengthened the weak, healed the sick, bound up the injured, bought back the strayed, or sought the lost.[4]  The list is significant because it tells us quite clearly what government is for in God's eyes, and it "promises" judgment to those leaders who fail.  Bad leaders, the prophets say, bring judgment not only on themselves, but wreak havoc on their entire nation, including those caught up in disaster through no particular fault of their own.[5]

           

            Who is the Christ?  What does Christ reveal to us about the character of God…and about the kingdom of heaven?

            This is a different kind of king we hear about in the gospel story.  The people had been hoping for a king like King David—for a powerful military and political leader who would help them overthrow the Roman oppressors.  But Jesus turned out to be a different kind of king.

            Jesus was proclaiming the kingdom of God—but what a paradoxical kingdom he revealed!  It reversed the ways of the world!  If you want to be part of God’s kingdom, you have to stop trying to be big and important and independent, and be like a little child.    The last are going to be first, and the first will be last. 

            Jesus preached good news to the poor and release to the captives.  He taught by word and deed and blessed little children.  He offered healing to those who were sick and encouragement to those who were brokenhearted.  He scandalized those who were in power in the religious establishment by eating with outcasts and forgiving sinners.

            What was happening to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords on that Good Friday?  Unjustly condemned for blasphemy and sedition, Jesus was crucified, suffering the depths of human pain and giving his life for the sins of the world.

            Jesus refused to come in power, but instead in vulnerability.  The king was hung on the throne of a wooden cross—reviled and forsaken and mocked.  He doesn’t vow revenge or retribution even on those who crucify him, but instead offers forgiveness.  He doesn’t save himself by coming down off his cross to prove his kingly status—but remains on that instrument of torture and humiliation, the representative of all who suffer unjustly.  He doesn’t promise a better tomorrow, in the sweet bye and bye, but offers us redemption today.

            When we find ourselves not complete and in charge—but shattered, hanging on the crosses of our own failures and brokenness, we can look to Jesus to save us…to make us whole.  When we are most vulnerable, we are more open to see God with us in our pain and need. 

            This King—the King of Love-- doesn’t control us by might or judge us, but meets us in our brokenness and offers us healing and new life and invites us to be partners in God’s redeeming work.

The scriptures teach us that the measure of faithful leadership and faithful living is how we treat those who are most vulnerable—widows… orphans… and foreigners… and the sick…the outcast… the possessed, the poor...the marginalized…the “other.”

            In his teaching and ministry, Jesus shows us that every act of love is an act of resistance to the forces of darkness, division, and hate.
            As Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
            And so, let us look for the cracks-- as small as they might be--the cracks in systems of injustice…the cracks in the fears some people have of those who are different or of a life that’s different than the old life.

We are called to be the light of Christ in this broken world--  to let the light of Christ shine in and through us, to shed light on whatever justifies and validates hatred and violence and to expose it for what it is.  May we shine the light of love on those who have been excluded, marginalized, and silenced.  May Christ’s light shine through us as rays  of hope for our hurting world.

May it be so!  Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

Nov. 20, 2016

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[1] Jeremiah 23:5-6

[2] Jeremiah 23:1

[3] Jeremiah 23:2

[4] Ezekiel 34:1-10

[5] Fred Gaiser, at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=715

 

"Not the End of the World". A sermon on the Sunday after the Election, Nov. 13, 2016, on Luke 21:5-24

"Not the End of the World"

Luke 21:5-24

During the long, long months of the political campaign, many of us looked forward to it finally being over.  We were weary of the rhetoric—some of which was hateful.  Some people on either side described in apocalyptic terms how catastrophic it would be if the wrong candidate won. 

            The passages we heard today from Luke and Isaiah were given to us by the lectionary.   “When you hear of wars and insurrections, don’t be terrified….Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom… there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven….they will arrest you and persecute you.  They will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name….”

            By the time Luke wrote his gospel around 85 CE, the Temple had already been destroyed, in 70 CE.  So for Luke’s readers, what Jesus says here is more a reflection on the Temple’s destruction than a prediction of it.  Luke uses the destruction of this magnificent temple to make a statement on the impermanence of human achievement and institutions.

            “Don’t be terrified,” Jesus says. 

            En

After the election, a few of my Facebook friends posted sentiments like “It’ll be Ok.”  “Your side lost—better luck in 4 years.”  “Stop whining and move on.”

But this time, it feels different.  A lot of people are afraid, because of things that were said during the campaign, and because of the increased incidence of hateful harassment and intimidation since the election.

            The election results show how divided our country is, and also how frustrated people have been with politics as usual.   No matter which way the election turned out, half of the people in the country would have been unhappy. 

            Even if your candidate won—no political leader is a messiah who will save us, or solve all the problems of our society, regardless of what they may have promised.  Political solutions are only partial solutions, at best, and they involve compromise. 

In our time, we have such divisiveness between red and blue, rich and poor, rural and urban.  How do we unite and find common ground and work together for the common good?

Both Secretary Clinton and President Obama gave good speeches after the election and talked about how in our democracy we value “the peaceful transfer of power” and about the need for unity, and I commend them for that.  

But I think it’s clear that we won’t be able to just “move on” without some significant work that leads over time to healing and reconciliation in our society.  That can’t happen without dealing with injustices that have been uncovered. 

There’s a meme that’s being shared on Facebook that says:   “Things are not getting worse.  They are getting uncovered.”   This election cycle has uncovered the racism, sexism, and nativism that has always been present in our society but was partially hidden-- to persons of privilege-- in recent decades under the covers of political correctness and multiculturalism.  It’s painful for a lot of us to see these “isms” more fully exposed. 

            We’re in a time of crisis.  I’ve been reminded that the Chinese character that represents “crisis” has a dual meaning that includes both danger and opportunity.

           

So I wonder:  what if we understood what’s going on as not only challenges, but also as an opportunity?  An opportunity for our society to change for the better, to live more fully into a future in which there is true freedom and justice for all?

            Are we discerning a call for the church to be more fully the church?   Now, when I speak of the church, I’m not speaking of church as a place you go or something you attend or agree with.  I’m talking about a beloved community in which we find love and comfort and hope and challenge—and through which we are sent out to bring the love, and hope and truth of Christ to a broken and hurting world.

            So, what does it look like for us to be the church? 

            I’ve had conversations with some of you in the past few days, after the election.  Many of us have been working to understand and to process our emotions, including fear for loved ones and neighbors and for those who are most vulnerable.  Some of you have said you want to do something to make things better.  But what do we do? 

            In the days following September 11, 2001, our Muslim neighbors had reason to fear for their safety.  So Littlefield and other churches and organizations in the community put up signs on their doors that proclaimed, “This is a hate-free zone.”  Because we let them know we were a safe place, some of our neighbors asked to come in and pray, and they’ve felt safe and welcome here ever since.

            We’re being the church when we hold our summer Peace Camp and when we host interfaith worship services to build bridges of understanding.

            When we’re being church, one of the things we can each do is to foster one or more authentic friendships with someone who is completely different, a friendship that goes beyond superficial pleasantries to honest conversations about what it’s like to live in our society as a Muslim or an African-American or a GLBT person.  Develop a friendship that’s deep and trusting enough that, during a tough time, after a crisis that affects your friend, you can ask,  “So how are you doing-- really?” 

            For me, personally, this means continuing to develop relationships with people who are different, and also being in conversation with old classmates, friends, and extended family who live in rural areas and have never had a relationship with a person of color or a Muslim.  It can be hard work.  I think of it as a spiritual discipline to be very respectful and patient with people whose political views are very different from mine.  Over the past couple of months, I’ve had some Facebook conversations with friends from my past that I think were significant, and hopefully transformative in some small way. 

Many commentators have been observing how the level of civil discourse has deteriorated in our society in recent years.  It can feel uncomfortable to talk about tough topics with people who disagree, but it’s something we can learn and practice.  I think the church, where we’re commanded to love one another unconditionally, should be a safe place to work on this.  Could we do this—with God’s help?

            I believe we don’t have to be afraid.  I believe the words of our Presbyterian Brief Statement of Faith:   “In a broken and fearful world, the Spirit gives us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church ad culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom and peace.”[1] 

            So what are some practical ways we can choose faith over fear?   If we see the safety of a vulnerable person or group in jeopardy, how will we respond?  What are some hopes we have for the future of the church?  For the future of our nation?  This is something we need to be praying about… and talking about with one another. 

           

             Some of the writers I’ve been reading this week pointed out that they needed to write their weekly columns before the election results were known, but regardless of who won, the gospel is the same.   Our faith teaches us that God loves us with a love that is greater than our understanding.  We have God’s promise that God will be with us. 

            The most basic commandment is to love God completely and to love your neighbor as yourself.  The Bible exhorts us to “weep with those who weep.”  It doesn’t say we get to judge whether they should be weeping.  We don’t have to understand fully the depth of somebody’s fear or grief to empathize with them and show compassion and solidarity. 

            We are called to go out into the world, to proclaim the good news.  Our friends, our neighbors, and our nation need us to be authentic, grace-filled, hope-bearing, truthful people. 

            I believe part of being grace-filled people involves giving people who are having a hard time the space and time to feel whatever they’re feeling, whether it be anger or grief or whatever.   We need to encourage one another in hope and remember that even from prison, the apostle Paul was able to write, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”[2]

            When Representative John Lewis talks about his journey as a civil rights leader, we hear a hard truth:  that the work of justice is not a sprint.  It’s a marathon.  As the Rev. Dr. Blaire Monie writes, “justice will not be won by one election, nor will it be defeated by one election.  We need to double-down and stand on the side of those who are marginalized by a society of privilege.”[3]

            Blair reminded me of the wisdom of Reinhold Niebuhr, “Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime.  Therefore, we must be saved by hope.  Nothing that is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history.  Therefore, we must be saved by faith.  Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.   Therefore, we are saved by love.  No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint.  Therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness.” 

            Through the prophet Isaiah we hear God saying, “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.  The former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.  But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating…”[4]

            Imagine it:  God invites us to be co-creators with God and one another.  Imagine the possibilities, when we choose to respond in love and presence, to find and work for ways to lift up the brokenhearted, to do the work that will let the oppressed go free.[5]   Imagine a place where all are invited to live in fullness of life and joy, a place where all can flourish, where all can enjoy the work of their hands, where all can live together in peace and wholeness. 

            We can rejoice because we are active participants with God in this ongoing act of creation, as we work together to create a beloved community in which we are all invited to live together in the fullness and goodness of God.

            Thanks be to God!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

Nov. 13, 2016

        

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[1] “Brief Statement of Faith” of the Presbyterian Church (USA), 1991.

[2] Philippians 4:13

[3] The Rev. Dr. Blaire Monie, in a Facebook post on November 12, 2016.

[4] Isaiah 65:17-18

[5] Luke 4

 

 

"Courage for A New Time". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Reformation Sunday, Oct 30, 2016

"Courage for A New Time"

Mark 4:35-41

During the dark days of World War II, the World Council of Churches adopted a symbol which had been important to the early church during times of danger, hardship, and persecution:  the church is depicted as a storm-tossed boat, with a cross for a mast.

            Over the centuries, the ship has been a prominent symbol for the church in Christian art and architecture.  This part of the church building is called the “nave,” which is the Latin name for “ship.”  If you look up, you can see how the designers of this building evoked the symbolism.

Then, if you look at the stained glass windows, you’ll see that one of them depicts a ship tossing about on the waters.       

            When the early Christians tried to describe what it was like to be a Christian and to be a member of the church, they said it was like being on a ship with Christ in a storm.     The story we just heard from Mark's gospel seemed descriptive of the early church’s experience.  

            In the Gospel lesson, we find the disciples on a journey.  The journey is not one of their own choosing, but one they've been commanded to take.  

            It must have been a long day.  Jesus had been teaching beside the sea.  There had been a huge crowd gathered on the shore, while he sat in the boat and spoke in parables about the Reign of God.

            When evening came, Jesus said to the disciples, "Let us go across to the other side of the sea."  So, leaving the crowd behind, they set off across the sea. 

            The time I sailed across the Sea of Galilee, it was on a beautiful, calm, sunny day.  It was smooth sailing.  But Peter and the other fishermen among Jesus' inner circle of disciples knew from experience the danger of sudden storms on the Sea of Galilee.  As the wind and the waves fill the boat with water, the disciples are filled with fear.  They're sinking, and they’re afraid they might drown!  In terror, they turn to Jesus, who is calmly asleep in the stern of the boat.  The disciples woke Jesus with words we may use to address God when things get scary:    "Don't you care?"

            Mark tells us that Jesus had been sleeping through the storm.  In the Hebrew Scriptures, the ability to sleep peacefully is a sign of perfect trust in God's providential care.  So when Jesus was sleeping through the storm it didn't mean that he didn't care about his disciples.  It showed that he had perfect trust in God to keep them all safe.

            Jesus woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace!  Be still!"

            The words Jesus addressed to the wind and the waves are exactly the same words he used in the exorcism of the demon-possessed man in the first chapter of Mark.   It's a forceful rebuke, as he commands the forces of the storm, saying, “Be still.  Be calm!"

            And the wind ceased--   just like that.  There was a dead calm.

            Then Jesus said to them, "Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?"

            When you read through a gospel from beginning to end, you get a much better feel for what the evangelist means when he uses particular words and symbols that you miss if you read little parts of the gospel in isolation.  For Mark, faith isn't about holding correct, orthodox beliefs or living an upstanding moral life.  Faith is trust.  Fearfulness is the lack of faith.

            Mark tells us that disciples are sometimes called to do things that are risky or scary to us-- things that require that we trust in the power of God to sustain us, in spite of our fears.

            Mark wrote his gospel in a time of great persecution, under the emperor Nero.  Peter and Paul had in all likelihood been put to death.  The infant church was in danger of being wiped out.  So Mark included stories in his gospel that would encourage the people in the church.

            I think we all live our lives somewhere between fear and faith. A certain amount of fear can actually be healthy, when it protects us by motivating us to avoid unnecessary danger.  But too much fear can be unhealthy.  It can be crippling.

            Bruce Larson was once interviewing Christian psychiatrist Paul Tournier about his counseling methods.  He asked, "How do you help your patients get rid of their fears?"

            "Oh, I don't,” was Tournier's immediate answer.  "That which does not frighten does not have meaning.   All the best things in life have an element of fear in them."

            The disciples may have been afraid to cross the sea at night.  They must have felt fearful about going to the gentile side of the Galilee and reaching out to people they'd always regarded as unclean and   unacceptable.   Yet Jesus commanded them to get in the boat and go. 

            We're all caught somewhere between our desire for safety and security and our need to move to new and fearful areas.       It's good to be sensible and responsible...  to provide for our loved ones...  and to avoid certain unnecessary risks.  It’s good for a congregation to use best practices to be faithful stewards of the church’s resources. 

            But there's a difference between having a healthy degree of fear-- and being fear-full.  A certain amount of fear and struggle can actually contribute to our spiritual development.  But when fear takes charge of our lives, it can prevent us from being all that God intends for us to be.

            We might like to think that if we follow Jesus, he'll keep us out of the storm.   But, as disciples of Jesus Christ, we're not promised a safe, successful, long, or trouble-free life.  He never promised it would be easy.

            Congregations have a tendency to want to stay out of the storm.  It's scary to set out into less familiar territory...  to reach out to people who aren't just like us…. or to do some things in new ways.  It would feel safer to stay close to home…or to wait for a weather forecast that guarantees us that there won't be a storm.  

I'm convinced that the storms and the struggles of life-- both on a personal level and as a church-- are part of how Christ teaches us to trust in God's love and power to save us.     If we're going to travel with Jesus, we have to weather some storms. 

            The good news is that when we begin to trust in God's love and saving power we can overcome some of our fears.  We can begin to have faith we can weather the storms of life-- because Christ is with us. 

            We live in a tumultuous time—a time of great change and polarization and anxiety— in the world and in the church. 

And yet--- I believe God is working to do a new thing in our time.  I believe that this is a time of new reformation-- re-formation--and that God is working to create a new church, in and through us.   I believe that God wants to use us as instruments of justice and reconciliation in the world. 

So… on this Reformation Sunday, what do we hear the Spirit saying to us?

            In her blog a few years ago, Diana Butler Bass wrote of the Protestant Reformation movement: “It strikes me as interesting that those who followed the teaching of the new reform movement did not come to be known as “Reformists.”  Rather, the moniker that stuck was “Protestant.”  Luther and his associates were protesters rather than reformers—they stood up against the religious conventions of the day, arguing on behalf of those suffering under religious, social, and economic oppression.

            These religious protesters accused the church of their day of being too rich, too political, in thrall to kings and princes, having sold its soul to the powerful.   The original Protestants preached, taught, and argued for freedom—spiritual, economic, and political—and for God’s justice to be embodied in the church and the world.” 

The early Protestants believed that they were not only creating a new church-- but that they were also creating a new world, one that would resemble more fully God’s desire for humanity.  They weren’t content with the status quo.   They felt a deep discomfort within.  They knew things were not right.  And they set out to change the world.           

Long ago God spoke through the prophet Isaiah: “I am about to do a new thing.   Now it springs forth.  Don’t you perceive it?”[1]

I believe God is working to do a new thing in our time.  I believe that this is a time of new reformation-- re-formation--and that God is working to create a new church, in and through us.   I believe that God wants to use us as instruments of justice and reconciliation in the world.

So, on this Reformation Sunday, we can be thankful for the Reformation of the 16^th century.   As we look around at the world we live in and see things that are not right, we can be glad that we are freed for a great adventure of faith.”

In the words of our Presbyterian Brief Statement of Faith,  “in a broken and fearful world, the Spirit gives us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.”[2]    

              

            In this ship we call the Christian life, we will go through some storms.  But we don't need to be afraid, because we know that Jesus is with us.  

            Thanks be to God!

            Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church 

Dearborn, Michigan

October 30, 2016

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[1] Isaiah 43:9

[2] “A Brief Statement of Faith” of the Presbyterian Church (USA), 1990.

"The Power of Persistence." A sermon on Luke 8:1-8 and Isaiah 58, on Bread for the World Sunday. (With some reflections on the campaign season)

"The Power of Persistence"

Luke 18:1-8; Isaiah 58

Our faith tells us that God is merciful, loving, and powerful.  But the injustice and suffering we see all around us challenge that conviction. 

As Matthew Skinner suggests, “The system is rigged.  It always has been.”[1]  And so, as Skinner points out, people of faith have been complainers. 

“Justice never prevails,” the prophet Habakkuk complained to God.  Job lamented why God remained silent and apparently indifferent while he suffered:  “I call aloud, but there is no justice.”  [Habakkuk 1:4]

            Describing the abuses perpetrated by those who wield power, the prophet Micah said, “Their hands are skilled to do evil; the official and the judge ask for a bribe, and the powerful dictate what they desire. Thus they pervert justice.”  [Micah 7:3]

            People of faith complain—not because we’re whiney or grumpy.  When we complain about injustice, we’re insisting on a different world.  We remember that God created the world and called it good…and intends goodness.  We ache to see God’s intentions for human flourishing become realities.   So we keep doing what we can to help our hopes become a reality.

            In the gospel lesson we just heard, Jesus tells a parable about a widow who refuses to put up with an unjust system.  Luke says the  parable is about the disciples’ need to pray always and not to lose heart. 

“In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people.  In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’”

For a while this unjust judge refused, but later he said to himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.”

This widow uses the resources she has:  her voice and her persistence.  In time, her continuing advocacy for justice eventually gets results.   

Jesus said, “Will not God grant justice to God’s chosen ones who pray day and night?” 

In her society, the widow in the parable would have been marginalized and powerless, but she did what she could:  she prayed always, persistently.  Rather than wishing passively for things to be better, she advocates actively for justice, in her commitment to do what she can to work for a better world.

            Jesus tells about the persistent actions of this widow to show us what Christians are called to do.  Our Christian faith invites us to channel our frustrations with the brokenness of our society into prayer, and then into prayerful action.  Our faith calls us into advocacy that demands a response from God and from our society.  As people of faith, as individuals and communities, we are called to advocate for justice from those who have the power to grant it.  This advocacy uses whatever tools are available.  Whatever it takes to get the system to change, even if sometimes it’s only a little.

            Right now we’re in the midst of the ugliest political campaign I can remember.  I know many of us are very troubled by the lack of civility and how the mud-slinging has distracted us from the kind of serious discussion of important issues of vital importance to our nation.  It’s hard not to feel hopeless at times about the polarization in our nation.   

            Elections are pivotal moments, with outcomes that will last into the future, and there’s a lot of anxiety around this.  All the drama and debate and rhetoric could distract us from our basic calling as followers of Jesus.   

            In the midst of all this, we need to remember that there is no perfect candidate.  No one person can solve all the problems.  So it’s good news that we aren’t electing a Messiah—because we already have our Messiah: Jesus Christ, whom alone we worship and follow.

            All of the candidates have shown us who they are and what their strengths and weaknesses are.  So we need to pray for discernment, that we may use our votes to support the candidate who is best equipped to lead our nation through this time of great change and challenge.  

            No matter who wins the election on November 8, we know that we are beloved children of God.  We know that God is good, all the time.  We know that God continues to call us to embody God’s love in the world, and to work for justice and peace, to be repairers of the breach, the restorers of our communities and our nation.  We are called to work to promote the well-being of our neighbors and especially those who are denied justice.  This is true now, and it will be true on November 9 and the days that follow.

           

            Now and every day we are called to be a servant church.  When we are most faithfully being the servant church, we’re feeding the hungry, calling on the sick and visiting the home-bound.   We’re serving those in the community who are needy and hurting, through friendship and practical kinds of help.  We’re standing with those who are marginalized, and with victims of  violence and assault.   When we’re being the servant church, we share in Christ’s ministry in the world by generously supporting the mission of the church with our tithes and offerings.

            And—something I’ve been thinking a lot about the past few weeks—we’re being a servant church when we work to build bridges of understanding, when we work to bring about reconciliation.  I hope we’ll be praying about this in the days leading up to the election and following.  This congregation has committed itself to peacemaking.  So how can we build bridges that cross partisan divisions and work toward healing?  

           

            Now and every day, we are called to care for those in need.  Today has been designated as Bread for the World Sunday.   Yesterday was World Food Day. 

            We who have plenty to eat are reminded that many people don’t, and that many of those who are hungry or food insecure are children. 

            Bread for the World reminds us that nearly 16 million children in the United States, in one of the richest countries in the world — that’s almost one in five — live in households that struggle to put food on the table. Many of these children have parents who have jobs and work hard, but whose wages aren’t high enough to cover the high costs of rent, transportation, and utilities — and daily meals.
            So our federal government’s feeding programs serve as a lifeline for vulnerable children and families. Because children are hit especially hard by the effects of hunger and malnutrition,  nutrition programs aimed at children are particularly important. 
            A healthy start in life — even before a child is born — pays off for years, in terms of intellectual development --not only for individual children and families, but for communities and our nation as a whole.
            Only one out of every 20 grocery bags that feed people who are hungry come from church food pantries and other private charities.   Federal nutrition programs, from school meals to SNAP (formerly known as food stamps), provide the rest.   Our government’s child nutrition programs serve millions of children each year. 

Locally, and in the short term, we are helping to alleviate hunger when we give to the Presbyterian Hunger Program through our Two Cents a Meal offering… when we support Church World Service…when we support the mission of the Open Door or Focus Hope or volunteer at Gleaners.

            But we also need to work on the systemic causes of hunger.   For a lot of us,  hunger and poverty seem overwhelming.  But we don’t have to do it alone. 

            Bread for the World is a faith-based education and advocacy organization that I’ve belonged to for some years.  The reason I personally support Bread for the World is because they have a remarkable record of helping win passage of bipartisan legislation that addresses hunger.   As a result of this advocacy, children in the United States receive vital nutrition.   Emergency food reaches refugees from famine and conflict in Africa.  Agricultural development is enabling hungry people in various parts of the world to grow enough food to feed their families.

            If you want to help Bread for the World with this important, persistent advocacy work, you are invited to give them a donation.  Or you could commit yourself to sending letters to your elected representatives in Congress.  I’ll post a link on the church Facebook page and send one in an email to help you do this advocacy work if you feel led to do so.

            It took me between five and ten minutes to personalize the form letter at the website, which was then automatically sent to my congressional representatives.  It’s a small thing, but it’s important.  It’s a way to act prayerfully and faithfully.

            As Teresa of Avila famously put it, "Christ has no body now on earth but yours… no hands but yours…  no feet but yours.  Yours are the eyes through which God’s compassion will look upon the world.  Yours are the feet with which God will go about doing good.  Yours are the hands with which God will bless others now."

            We are called to serve—to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world.

When we respond to Christ’s call and work together, we can help to change the conditions and the policies that allow hunger to persist. 

            We are called to share our bread with the hungry, to bring the homeless poor into our house… to care for basic needs of those who are marginalized.

            Speaking through the prophet Isaiah, God promises us that we will not have to do this alone.  When we call, the LORD will answer.  When we cry for help, God will say, “Here I am.”[2]

            If we remove the yoke, the speaking of evil, if we offer our food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,

Then our light shall rise in the darkness.

            This is a blessed promise and vision:  

The LORD will guide you continually,

and satisfy your needs in parched places…

you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.

Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt… 

you shall be called the repairer of the breach..

the restorer of streets to live in.

            

So be it!  Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

October 16, 2016

Here's a link to Bread for the World.  You are invited to contribute to their  Offering of Letters to advocate with Congressional representatives to end hunger, with an emphasis on women and young children.

https://secure3.convio.net/bread/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=310&_ga=1.61618218.703944482.1475094274

        

        

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[1] http://www.onscripture.com/no-justice-no-peace

[2] Isaiah 58