Luke 16:1-14
September 21
David A. Davis
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“There was a rich man…” In the Gospel of Luke, when Jesus begins a parable, “There was a rich man…” one should quickly assume its going to be a tough one, Throughout Luke’s telling of the story of Jesus, the rich are challenged, condemned, indicted, and turned away. From the earliest verses, the song that comes from Mary’s lips when she was “with child”, that song about the Messiah: “He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”

In the familiar blessings offered by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, you remember Matthew’s words, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” But in Luke, Jesus removes the spiritual comfort zone. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Luke pairs that blessing with “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”

It is Luke who tells of the poor widow dropping two copper coins in the offering box, putting in “all the living that she had”. Plenty of others were putting their gifts into the alms box. But Jesus proclaims, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them.”  Luke joins Matthew and Mark in telling the story of the rich young ruler who asks what he needs to do to inherit eternal life. “Only one thing you lack,” comes the response from Jesus, who praised the man’s piety. “Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor.” You know that the man turned away in despair. Matthew and Mark record that it was because the man had many possessions. Luke simply reports that he was very rich.

Jesus’ teaching about money, wealth, and possessions is clearer in the Gospel of Luke than in any of the other gospels. So when a parable that only appears in Luke begins with “There was a rich man….”, one should quickly assume it’s going to be a tough one. As you heard, as you read, the parable isn’t actually about a rich man at all. It is about the “dishonest manager”, referred to in older translations as “the unjust steward.” The character in the parable that Eugene Peterson labels in this paraphrase, “The Message”, is the crooked manager.

The crooked manager was charged with mishandling the rich man’s business affairs. “Turn in your accounts and your paperwork. I’m done with you.” The manager had one of those conversations we all have with ourselves. “I can’t dig. I am too ashamed to beg.” The light bulb goes off in his head and he comes up with a plan that he hopes if it won’t save his job, it will score him some points out in the community. In order to collect as much as he could quickly, in order to try to recoup something of the business loss incurred by the owner, in order to try to make some amends with the customers he had strong-armed for years, the manager went door to door, inviting people to pay up a reduced rate. He likely took off his commission and the extra he was trying scam week after week. “If you owe a hundred jugs of oil? Make it fifty. A hundred containers of wheat. Make it eighty. And so and so and such and such.

“And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” And the reader of Luke’s gospel throws up their hands at this point, wondering whether. to be more frustrated with Jesus or Luke. Fifteen chapters in and coming to the clear conclusion that the consistent word for the rich in the Gospel of Luke is one of warning and judgment. And this no good, loan-sharking, price fixing, money-loving, middle-level crooked bill collector receives a word of praise from the boss who just fired him! When Jesus begins a parable with “there was a rich man….”, one should quickly assume its going to be a tough one.

One scholarly approach to the parables is to ponder where the parable proper ends and the commentary of Jesus begins. Here in the case of the dishonest manager, some scholars argue that Jesus’ commentary, Jesus’ midrash (to use the ancient Hebrew term), begins at “And I tell you”. It is as if Jesus knows the disciples (and you and me) don’t get it. So he keeps going, maybe preaching a bit louder. It doesn’t get any easier, really. But by the time Jesus gets to “You cannot serve God and wealth”, you cannot serve God and mammon; Jesus does offer clarity. The reaction of the religious “lovers of money” is to scoff at Jesus and make fun of him.

In his recently published book, entitled Deadheads and Christians: They Will Know them By Their Love, Nassau Church’s own Tom Coogan describes a Grateful Dead concert as an existential experience. He argues that every Deadhead can describe a particular concert experience that was life-changing. They can tell the details, the set list, the names of fellow concert goers because of “how deeply they were affected.” Far less an experience of the head and far more an experience of the heart and soul.

It can and has been argued that it is similar to the parables of Jesus. Listening/reading the parables is less an experience of the head and far more an experience of the heart and soul. Parables do something to the listener. An existential experience. It is not about figuring them out, unlocking the moral lesson like a able. It is more about letting the words of Jesus wash over you. Allow the parable to speak into your life in the here and now. Pondering meaning less perhaps, and focusing more on your own response. The experience, the reaction of the religious lovers of money was far more than an intellectual response to Jesus’ words.

Every week I go back to the Excel spreadsheet that the staff has built for me over the years, which lists every sermon I preached from this pulpit, sorted by scripture text. I look at my old sermons on the text I am preaching. Unlike the Luke text a few weeks ago about hating your family for Jesus’ sake, which I have never preached (and more than one of you suggested maybe I should not preach it again!). I have preached this tough parable of the crooked manager many times. More than half a dozen. You won’t be surprised that all of them had a stewardship sort of theme. Money. Giving. The sinful scourge of poverty all around us. As I said, by the end of Jesus’ brief commentary on the parable, his seemingly intended takeaway is pretty clear. “You can’t serve God and mammon.”

In the here and now of my life, as the parable washed over me early each morning in my sermon preparation, my experience of it had little to nothing to do with money. My head is spinning these days just like yours. I have the same knots in my stomach as most of you. The heaviness of heart is very real. The good news of Jesus came to me in my heart and soul this week through the Word. The promise of the Gospel leapt off the scripture’s page with encouragement and inspiration. One does not often say that about a parable that begins with “There was a rich man….”.

Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.” I went back and reread an op-ed piece that Anne Lamott wrote last month after the horrifying shooting and murder at the Catholic school in Minneapolis. The essay is entitled “What I Told My Sunday School Children About Death”.  In a way that only Anne Lamott can write, she didn’t mince words. “There should be one inviolable rule: Children are not shot or starved to death.” Later in the piece, she writes, “It is rough and harsh out there, and it seems, to my worried and paranoid self, worse by the day…We have to show up. We want to stay isolated from the suffering, but maybe the answer is to draw close.” Lamott goes to tell of her rabbi friend who, when she is discouraged and feeling hopeless, makes “matzo ball soup for the sick and lonely and friends; in my Presbyterian tradition,” she continues, “we tend toward casseroles. These offer consolation to the soul. There are always a lot of people who need them, like me.”  Jesus said “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.”

We were having dinner this week at Conte’s Pizza. A family of four came in. The older son was on crutches with a brace on his knee covering pretty much his whole leg. As they came into the restaurant from the Witherspoon Street entrance, they weren’t sure where to go to get a table. I figured it was their first visit. While the injured young man looked 12 to me, he had a Princeton athletics T-shirt. The kind of athletes wear for practice. He was clearly distraught, sometimes holding his head in his hands. The young parents and their little brother are trying to offer comfort. They were all looking very sad. We didn’t speak to them, but in my mind, I picture him as a freshman soccer player at the university who just tore everything in his left knee. I noticed that their server is someone we have come to know over the years. Her son was one of the coaches when our son Ben played soccer for Princeton High School. It is less about what a parable means and more about a parable does to you. On the way out, with the server’s help, we bought dinner for a family whose lives were turned upside down this week, with a young kid whose hopes for this fall seemed crushed. Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.”

I don’t know if your life in here and now is feeling anything like mine these days, but maybe matzo ball soup, casseroles, and pizza can help. I am guessing that in another season, the parable of the crooked manager will come at me again with Jesus shouting about serving God and serving mammon. But for now, Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.” And just speaking for me, I experienced these words of Jesus this week as really, really good news. And I offer that for your courage and encouragement. The encouraging good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

 

Psalm 51
September 14
David A. Davis
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Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy on us. Have mercy on us, O God, according to your steadfast love. In the abundance of your love, your love that is constant, your love that never fails, have mercy on us. Your mercy is as abundant as your love. Mercy. Compassion. Understanding. Have mercy on us. Have mercy on all of us, O God. Not pity. Not a feeling sorry for. But an unconditional love that never turns away. An ever-present compassion that brings tears to your eyes, O God. A divine-like patience that will never give up…on us. Your anger lasts but a moment but your favor, your kindness, your embrace lasts a lifetime and more, O God.

Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy. Tradition identifies the author of Psalm 51 as King David. David pretty much begging you for forgiveness, God, after Nathan confronted him about his sinful behavior with Bathsheba. A deeply personal plea. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight”.  Yes, Holy One, I have my sins to bring before you. We all have our sins to lay bare before you. The cleansing baptismal waters of your forgiveness wash over us every day. Every day. It is a deeply personal plea, prayer for all of us. That in and through Jesus Christ your forgiveness and redemption might cleanse us from all sin. Every moment of every day. “You desire truth in the inward being, therefore teach me (teach us) wisdom” deep within. Give us our truth and your wisdom that draws us near to your heart and helps to live a bit more faithfully, enables to do a bit better, inspires what the old gospel song described as “a closer walk with thee.”

But to be honest, Lord God, you can’t really read Psalm 51 this week and just keep it personal. The plea I mean. The cry for your mercy. You who know the inner most parts of every heart. You see the same world we do. A world, a nation, a people, so, so far from what your prophets proclaimed and what Jesus taught and what you intend for your creation. If one were to offer a litany of specifics in the midst of the psalmists prayer to you, God of compassion and mercy, it would be hard to know where to start and it would never end. The petitions. The laments. The plea. You can’t read Psalm 51 this week and hear it as prayer for one heart at a time. It’s not just a prayer for in here. It’s a prayer for out there. It’s a prayer for everywhere. Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy. It’s more than an expression that rolls from the lips of one the saints whose seen more than her share of life and heaves a sigh and shakes her head. No God, it is a deep, authentic cry of a heavy heart when other words just don’t come. A prayer that can help sleep to come at night when worries of the day never cease to mount. Have mercy on us, O God. Have mercy on all of us. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God and put a new and right spirit within me.” Create in us, all of us, clean hearts, O God put a new and right spirit with us, all of us. Not clean as sinless or perfectly pure or even spotless. That won’t happen until the other side of glory, until we come into your presence, until we rest eternally in your very heart God. No, this is more like clean as in heal. Like when Jesus healed the ten lepers. They were made clean. A clean heart healed from its woundedness. A clean heart mended from its brokenness. A clean heart lift from its despair. A clean heart freed from all that separates us from you, Merciful God. That’s our plea. That’s our prayer. That’s your promise. Because you, Creator God, you who created the heavens and the earth, you who created each one of us, are creating…still. For the love of God, for the love of you, don’t stop creating now. As the psalmist said, “I lift mine eyes to the hills- from whence will my help come. My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.” Our help is the work of your ongoing, still creating Spirit on the loose in each one of us and in the world. Our help. Our hope, O Spirit of the Living God.

Clean hearts and new and right spirits. Put new and right spirits within us, all of us. New, like the promise Isaiah proclaimed: I am the Lord, your God, your Holy One…I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth.” God of every blessing, allow new spirits to spring forth. A new spirit within fed by your peace, not as the world gives, but the peace Jesus gives unto us. A new spirit that flows with joy the world can never crush. A spirit kept by your light, the light of the world. A spirit that shall never be crushed by the present and future darkness. Overwhelmed. Yes. Distraught. Maybe. But in your wisdom and by your grace and with your love that will not let us go, put that new spirit within us.

New and right spirits. Right spirit. I don’t know God, but these days it seems like a right spirit is less about not being a wrong spirit and more about being aligned with your Spirit. Right, not as in right or wrong. But right more like the root of righteousness. Like when Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” Put right spirits within us God. Spirits that long for the world Mary sang about in the Magnificat. The world Jesus described when he stood in the synagogue and read from the scroll of Isaiah. Put right spirits within us that yearn for justice to roll down and the poor to be lifted up. Right spirits that help us see the world like Jesus sees the world and work for the world Jesus paints with his words. Put new and right spirits within us, O God of all righteousness. Clean hearts and new spirits.

“Do not cast [us] away from your presence and do not take your holy spirit from [us]’.  It’s like we don’t even need to ask. We know that. But along with the resurrection hope that Christ is Risen, the assurance of your presence with us always, O Emmanuel, that’s what carries us. That’s what sustains us. That Christ is with us always until the end of the age. That your Holy Spirit is at work advocating, guiding, sanctifying us. That even in the most difficult seasons of our lives, the most discouraging times when it comes to longing for peace, the most frightening days of mass shootings and political violence in the land, you are with us. The world and everything in it still belong to you. That you still hold each of us, all of us, in the palm of your hand. Not going lie Lord, our hands are raised with all sorts question you about all we see around us. Our prayer fists are clinched in frustration and anger about the hatred, the bigotry, the absolute neglect of the common good, but you still are God in heaven and the God who comes all the way down in Jesus Christ who anointed our brokenness with his human flesh and bones. He stretched out his arms to embrace to save this blasted world. It is your presence that carries us these days. As the psalmist says “If I ascend to heaven you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me and your right hand shall hold me fast. Don’t cast us away from your presence and do not take your holy spirit from us. For your Holy Spirit intercedes for us. Every moment of every day.

Blessed Savior, still our refuge, I officiated at a wedding yesterday. I was reminded how life-giving, redeeming, restoring the taste of a bit of joy can be. A glimpse of joy and love is such a gift. A gift to not be taken for granted. So yes, give us a fresh dose of the joy of your salvation. Help us not to forget to find joy in the little things and in the big things. Knowing that the world cannot take away the joy we have in Jesus Christ. Like your peace, it is a joy not as the world gives. Give us joy, Holy God. It seems almost like a subversive prayer request or even a selfish one. But joy as resistance is one of the ways you sustain us God. A bit of joy to face to tomorrow. A little foretaste of glory divine to inspire us for another day. A glimpse of joy so we can tackle some of the hard stuff.

Sustain us with willing spirits. Willing spirits that find a way, even the simplist of ways to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with you. Willing spirits that are open to a nudge from you to say yes to an ask, or to discover a new way to love a neighbor, or to offer some extra gratitude to someone behind a register or serving a table or taking a temperature. Sustain us with willing spirits, Loving God, that remind us that we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ not just when we are in here but when we are out there. And we are called to see the very face of Christ in those around us. Give us the eyes and hearts that come with willing spirits.

Lastly, with our plea, with our prayer, comes our praise. The wisdom of scripture reveals, and lives of the saints that have gone before us testify, and the witness of the great cloud affirms you can’t have one without the other. Prayer and praise.

So, Lord, “open [our] lips, and our mouths will declare your praise.” For our chief end in this life and the life to come is to worship you and enjoy forever.

Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy.

Create in us clean hearts and right minds.

 

Luke 14:25-35
September 7
David A. Davis
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I don’t like that Jesus uses the word hate. I would say that “I hate that Jesus uses the word hate,” but we taught our children that we didn’t use that word in our house. Same with “shut up”. The expression was not/is not welcomed in our home. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Seriously, Jesus! Jesus is surely not the only one in the bible to use the word. “ I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies…Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like water, and righteousness like and everflowing stream.” The Hebrew prophet Amos. “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me, he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners…For I, the Lord, love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing.” Isaiah, chapter 61.

“Those who say, ‘I love God’ and hate their brothers or sisters are liars, for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from God is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” The epistle of I John. Did you hear that one, Jesus? “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good.” The Apostle Paul in Romans. Hate what is evil. That sounds better. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil.” I’m okay with that one. The Sermon on the Mount in Matthew: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” That’s a very tough ask, but at least I get it.

“Whoever comes to me does not hate…father and mother…and even life itself.”  So I went looking for other translations to help me feel better about the hate. I typed in Luke 14:26 and then clicked on “All English Translations”. It didn’t help. A handful, as in three or four, offered an alternative. The rest stuck with “hate”. The Common English Version reads “You cannot be my disciple, unless you love me more than you love your father and mother, your wife and children, and your brothers and sisters. You cannot follow me unless you love me more than you love your own life”. That helps a bit, but the Greek text is very clear. I went to the Greek dictionary in hopes of variation on a verb. It didn’t help. Definition: “hate, detest, abhor”.  The example Jesus gives about a king going to war against another king isn’t all that great either. But there is even more battle in the bible than there is hate. Then there’s the selling of all your possessions. Jesus isn’t just talking to the rich young ruler as he does later in Luke, telling him to sell all his possessions and give them to the poor. Hating those you love. Carrying the cross. Building a tower. Going out to wage war. Selling all your possessions. Salt with no taste. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” Seriously, Jesus!

In his commentary on Luke in the Interpretation series, Fred Craddock points out that the use of the word “hate” in the ancient Semitic world was a common expression that was not about emotion or matters of the heart. It is more related to turning away from or detaching. If Jesus’ intended connotation here was just “hate” being “hate”, Craddock points out, this one verse would be in contrast to all the calls to love and kindness that fill the verses of both testaments, including the verses behind me on the chancel wall. Maybe the word functioned back then, something like the word “sick” today. When someone decades younger than me refers to something as “sick”, I have to stop and think whether they are referring to something as good or bad. “That is so sick!” Craddock makes the argument that “hate” had a whole other meaning. “What is demanded of disciples”, he concludes, “is that in the network of many loyalties in which all of us live, the claim of Christ and the gospel not only takes precedence but, in fact, redefines the others.”

This difficult teaching from the lips of Jesus reminds me of a similarly perplexing part of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew. In the midst of that sermon, Jesus preaches, “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.” And somewhere on that hill, someone in the congregation shouts “Amen!” “Come on now,” “Preach, Jesus Preach!” Where are the biblical claims to inerrancy and literal interpretations when Jesus is talking about lopping off body parts? It’s not about plucking your eye, it is about having the ears to hear. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”.  Jesus often repeated expression that reflects his call to his disciples to hear, understand, and so live the gospel he teaches with a longing for depth and maturity. To daily yearn for faith that leaps off the scriptures’ page and empowers you to live in the ever more complex, confusing, and confrontational world all around us. Or as the Apostle Paul puts it in Ephesians, “I pray that you nay have the power to comprehend, with all of the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the LOVE of Christ which surpasses all knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” Having ears to hear.

Part of having ears to hear for the reader of the bible is to pay attention to Jesus’ audience. If we were to keep reading here in Luke, the next chapter is Jesus teaching tax collectors and sinners the parables about lost things. One sheep. One coin. One son. “Joy in the presence of the angels of God” for just one. A father’s compassion and joy for the lost son who has come home. The Pharisees and the scribes grumble because Jesus welcomes “them”. He eats with “them”. Preaching about “I once was lost but now I am found” to an audience of sinners. Here in chapter 14, before our puzzling, confounding text for today, Jesus heals an infirm man on the sabbath as the religious leaders rage. He then tells the Pharisees a parable about the lowliest being given the places of honor at a banquet and challenging those who lust for and brandish power and prestige. “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind”, Jesus says. Jesus then tells about the great dinner with the invited guests, offering various legitimate reasons why they can’t make it. Jesus tells them about the owner of the house who sends for the neediest and most vulnerable to fill the house. Preaching to the Pharisees about lavishing hospitality on the least of these.

To have ears to hear includes noting Jesus’ intended audience. Pharisees listened to the parables of banquets. Tax collected and sinners listening to parables about lost things. In our text for the morning, just as Jesus begins to drop the hate word,  don’t miss the reference to a different audience. Luke, the narrator, writes, “Now large crowds were traveling with him, and he turned and said to them.”  Not tax collectors. Not Pharisees. “Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” Crowds that witnessed not just one being healed but lots being healed. People in the crowd who say or maybe were told about miracle after miracle. A large crowd who have heard sermons full of parables and watched confrontations with religious leaders. “Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” It seems to imply people who want to hear, who want to be with Jesus. A pro-Jesus crowd. People who are drawn to Jesus, not to confront him but perhaps to hear more. Maybe some were just intrigued by the good preaching. Maybe people are going along for the ride, for the fascination of it all.  Maybe others in the crowd were waiting for their turn to be healed. Maybe some only hear bits and pieces along the way.  Maybe there are those who have suffered, been injured, and abused by the religious establishment and are longing for something new. Maybe others in the crowd were taking a “what’s in it for me approach.”

“Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” Jesus turns to them and talks about hating those you love. Carrying the cross. Building a tower. Going out to wage war. Selling all your positions. Salt with no taste. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” Jesus turns to them and says “Let me take a moment to make sure you understand where this is headed. Where we are going. Where I am going. Jesus stops to give a nod to the gospel in all of it’s fullness, discipleship that is life transforming, and a kingdom that is intended to turn the world’s ways upside down. No, it won’t be easy. It isn’t easy. It was never intended to be easy. Jesus turns to the “now…large crowds” and talks about what Dietrich Bonhoeffer identified as “the cost of discipleship.”

I still wish Jesus didn’t use the word hate when it comes to the people you love most. But what if having ears to hear when it comes to the most difficult parts of the teaching of Jesus is less about understanding it all and more about clinging to even the smallest of takeaways for living the Christian life. For instance, when you are a follower of Jesus, it can’t always be about you first. Or when it comes to discipleship, parts of the teaching of Jesus ought to make us squirm once in a while. Or the cross to carry isn’t ours, it is his. For here in Luke, before Jesus tells the two on either side of him there on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, and in Matthew, before Jesus tells the disciples to go make disciples of all nations and “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.”  Before the promise of resurrection life, Jesus says to the disciples, to the church, and to you and me, “This is my body broken for you.”

Let anyone with ears to hear, listen.

Micah 6:1-8
August 31
Andrew Scales
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Luke 7:11-17 [i]
August 24
Lauren J. McFeaters
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Have you been to New Orleans? There’s the French Quarter, the Garden District, Jackson Square, and Preservation Hall. There’s the National WWII Museum and the Mahalia Jackson Theater. Then there’s the food: the Po-Boys and Gumbo, Crawfish Etouffee and Jambalaya. And the way to start your day is with a copy of the Tribune, beignets, and café au lait.

And then, there are the cemeteries. Lots of them. They’re named St. Louis and Cypress Grove, Gates of Prayer and Greenwood, Holt and Lake Lawn. So many cemeteries in so little space. And because the city lies at sea level, all the graves are in above-the-ground crypts, surrounded by stone statuary.

In New Orleans, one of the most notable facets of culture is how you get to the cemetery. You get there with Jazz.

The Jazz Funeral is unique to New Orleans. Its origins date back centuries to Nigeria and West Africa, and it begins at church. After worship, outside on the steps, the casket is carried by family and friends, or slid inside a glass-sided hearse. A solemn brass band leads the procession and the mourners walk behind.

Slowly, very slowly, the procession shuffles toward the cemetery. Dirges are played: Nearer My God to Thee and Just a Closer Walk with Thee.[ii] You know this hymn. Can’t you just hear Mahalia Jackson –  the cadence and the pulse:

Just a closer walk with Thee

Grant it, Jesus, is my plea

Daily walking close to Thee

Let it be, dear Lord, let it be ^[iii]

Arriving at the grave, the words of committal are said, and the pallbearers lift the casket for the burial. And then … Nothing. Silence. Nothing but silence. Silence goes on and on and on …

Until … KAPOW! Celebration music fills the air. Shouts of joy are raised. Hoots and hollers. Glory Alleluia! The brass lifts up When the Saints Go Marching In.  Can’t you hear Louie Armstrong? The festivities of Thanksgiving begin.

It’s the defining moment; a holy moment:

• Past moves to future.
• Shuffling becomes swing.
• A crowd struts, sings, waves umbrellas, all the while dancing everything back to life; dancing everything back to life. [iv]

It’s all tribute. Tribute and care; honor and compassion.

As we travel with Jesus today, he meets a funeral procession: a solemn, mourning people, shuffling to the cemetery.   Searching for a closer walk with God. Dirges are wailed. Laments are moaned.

There’s a shattered mother; known only as the Widow of Nain.   A devastated woman, left in a man’s world. It’s a picture of destitution. Her future without her son’s support and security, is grim; her circumstances dire. She’s left in total dependence upon the crowd around her. [v]

And yet, when Jesus witnesses her heartache, he has neither pity nor kindness. He has no sympathy or charity. What Jesus has is compassion.

“Do not weep.” Compassion.

“Do not cry.” Compassion.

“Let me wipe your tears.” Compassion.

The biblical word for compassion comes from the Greek word splagcna. I’m going to say it again. Splagcna.  It sounds like it means. Splagcna literally meaning: to have tender mercy – straight from the bowels; to have loving mercy from the viscera; to have heart from the innards. Jesus’ compassion is a tender mercy straight from the gut.

The root of compassion comes straight from the very pit of our being. That plummeting in our guts when we hear really shocking news, when we witness cruelty, when we experience something so terribly unexpected that we feel only from our core.

Jesus was sucker punched by the Widow of Nain, so much so that power came forth as he touched the dead man’s body and breath filled the dead man’s lungs:  “Young man. I say to you Rise! Awaken!” “Young man. I say to you Get Up! Dance.”

That’s the root of Jesus’ closer walk with the Widow of Nain: his compassion is more than an understanding look, or a sympathetic word, [vi] his consideration more than pity.

So too for Christians. Our Acts of Compassion must be a lovingkindness [vii] in service to the broken. Our Acts of Compassion must be mercy in service to the shattered.

And if we let our Christian Witness come from our guts, we can completely undermine the contempt, the loathing, and abhorrence of humanity that is happening all around us.

Acts of compassion, can absolutely slash through hatred and cut through fear. Acts of compassion become the indispensable way to rid the world of Tyranny.

And compassion, in the name of our Servant Lord, is perhaps the only thing that can save us from ourselves.[viii]

The Widow of Nain doesn’t ask Jesus to raise her son. She doesn’t fall on her knees and beg for her son’s life. All she does is weep.  There are no words about faith, or gratitude, or praise; just the absolute power of a mother’s tears.[ix]

We’re a church with a lot of tears.  We’re moved by many things. We cry easily. When we witness baptisms; enjoy a partnership with a new friend at St. Mary’s in Trenton; when we embrace a refugee family; when we minister beside our siblings at Westminster and Witherspoon Street Churches; when we experience the generosity of older adults; the determination of teens; and the bravery of children.

When our Lord restores to a widow her son, he restores her world. When our Lord guides a church to practice compassion, he restores our world. That’s what the kingdom of God does: Restores us. Raises us. Resurrects us. It’s pure joy – deep from the gut. Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

 

ENDNOTES

[i] Luke 7: 11-17 NRSVue: Soon afterward Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow, and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with compassion for her and said to her, “Do not cry.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, [that is the frame on which the young man’s body is laid] and the bearers stopped. And Jesus said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has visited his people!” This word about him spread throughout the whole of Judea and all the surrounding region.

[ii] “Multi-Cultural Traditions: The Jazz Funeral.” Originally printed in The Soul of New Orleans. www.neworleansonline.com.

[iii]  Just a Closer Walk With Thee (anonymous)

I am weak but Thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I’ll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to Thee

Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea
Daily walking close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be

When my feeble life is o’er
Time for me will be no more
Guide me gently, safely o’er
To Thy kingdom’s shore, to Thy shore Refrain

[iv] Mary LaCoste. “New Orleans jazz funerals — A joyous tradition.” The Louisiana Weekly, www.louisianaweekly.com, September 22, 2014.

[v] Beverly R. Gaventa Charles B. Cousar, J. Clinton McCann, Jr., James D. Newsome. Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, Year C. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994, 379-80.

[vi] Ibid.

[vii]  Gratitude abounds for Brian Phillips and Kevin Reel as they are the living definition of lovingkindness.

[viii] Walter Brueggemann. The Prophetic Imagination. New York: Fortress Press, 1978, 91.

[ix] Kim Buchanan. Sermon: From Procession to Party. Luke 7:11-17. Day1: A Ministry for the Alliance of Christian Media, Atlanta, Georgia, June 10, 2007.