Desperate Times

Luke 16:1-13

September 22, 2019

When I used to teach an Introduction to Ethics course I would start the first day of class off by showing a clip from the movie, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. There is a wonderful scene at the beginning of the movie where two of the main characters, Captain Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, have commandeered the fastest ship in the King’s fleet to go after what their hearts desire most. Sparrow wants to retake his ship, The Black Pearl, and Turner wants to rescue his true love, Elizabeth Swann. Sparrow is an unapologetic pirate, while Turner has devoted his life to fighting pirates. But in order to get what they both want so desperately, they have to work together.

In this particular scene Jack tells Will an unsettling truth about his father. Will always believed his father was a merchant marine, an honest sailor who was killed by pirates. But Jack knew his dad. He knew him for the man he was, a pirate and a scallywag; Bootstrap Bill was his pirate name.

Will doesn’t want to believe this about his father. He doesn’t want to believe that his father could have ever sailed the high seas as a pirate. But Jack tells him it’s true. Jack tells Will that, yes, his father was a pirate, a good pirate, but he was also a good man. Jack tells Will that he will have to square himself with that knowledge someday, but if they are going to accomplish their goals then Will has to decide if he can sail with him, Captain Jack Sparrow, a very, very good pirate. It remains to be seen if Sparrow is also a very good man.

I would stop the movie at this point, and ask my students this question – can you be both a pirate, someone who works or lives in a way that is less than morally acceptable, and still be a good person? We would spend the rest of the semester trying to answer that question.

This scenario from Pirates of the Caribbean is an imperfect illustration for this parable we have before us in Luke’s gospel; but it in all honesty trying to find the right illustration for this parable is a challenge to say the least.

We learn from Jesus’ first words that the manager in this parable is dishonest. He was a dishonest manager whose deceit was found out. Had the master never heard about how the manager was mishandling the master’s money, maybe the manager would have just kept on living the way he did. But the master did hear, and he called the manager on the carpet for his dishonest deeds. The manager knew he had entered desperate times. He knew the jig was up, and he realized that he was not strong enough to dig ditches and too proud to beg. So he resorted to desperate measures. He decided to make friends through shady means so that when he was dismissed, he would have at least secured places where he would be welcomed. He went to the people who owed debts to the master and reduced them.

“You owe 100 jugs of olive oil? Sit down, quickly, and make it 50?  You owe 100 containers of wheat? Let’s cut that down by 20.”

You would think that when the master found out about the manager’s desperate measures, that he would be in even greater trouble. But this is where the parable takes a strange and unexpected turn. The master does not berate the manager for his dishonest behavior, his desperate and sneaky conduct; he commends him for it. The master praises him. The manager has acted shrewdly, the master said, and that is a good thing.

If that isn’t troubling enough, when Jesus finished telling this part of the parable, he then said some of his most confusing words ever.

“And I tell you, make friends for yourself by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”

Wait. What? The response to the manager’s actions by the master and certainly Jesus’ response seems counterintuitive to everything we think about discipleship, about following Jesus, about being Christian.

I mean let’s be real here, dishonesty, even though it is used to do something good, is still dishonesty. But in this passage the dishonest quick thinking and the astute shrewdness of the manager is praised. Even though there is no reason to believe that the manager was acting out of anything but self-interest, the way he deals with his desperate times is not condemned but lifted up as an example for all who were listening.

Wait! What?!

In the last few verses of this passage, Luke’s Jesus seems to be explaining why he thinks the dishonest manager’s actions are praiseworthy. Yet quite frankly, the explanations leave me more confused than ever. If you are faithful in a little, you are faithful in much. If you are dishonest in a little, you are dishonest in much. If you cannot be trusted to do the right thing with someone else’s wealth, how can you be entrusted to do the right thing with what you have been given? It culminates with these words,

“No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

I thought that perhaps I might get this passage a little bit more if I was sure about the definition of the word “shrewd.”

Merriam Webster states that if someone is shrewd, they are “marked by clever, discerning awareness and hardheaded acumen.” To be shrewd was to be aware, astute and cleverly discerning of whatever situation is at hand. That certainly seems to fit the manger. Here is one more thought: another way to translate the Greek word for shrewd is worldly. The dishonest manager was worldly in how he dealt with his situation. Yet again, this seems counterintuitive. Aren’t we as believers supposed to be in this world, but not of this world? Aren’t we supposed to stay outside of and away from all that is considered, “worldly,” because we have been taught to believe that worldly is wrong or bad or tainted? But here’s the thing, we are in this world. And in small ways and large, the world is in us. We live in a world where money matters. Maybe it is wrong that it does, but it does. Will any of us upon leaving here today throw away whatever wealth we may have? Will we sell all that we have and trust that we’ll be taken care of? Probably not; because just like that manager the idea of being that down and out is scary, and because even if we don’t have firsthand experience with homelessness and poverty, we see its effects all around us. Poverty is not glamorous or spiritual. Poverty is hard. It is dangerous. It is suffering. So I doubt that any of us would gladly surrender all of our wealth for poverty.

Yet, perhaps the point Jesus was trying to get across was not that being dishonest was okay, but that when it comes to wealth we have to be realistic, not idealistic. The dishonest manager was praised for his shrewdness, his worldliness. What does it mean, then, for us to be worldly when it comes to wealth?

Maybe one thing that it means is that we have to recognize that we are going to be thrust into situation after situation where we have to make a decision. Are we going to serve wealth? Or are we going to use whatever wealth we have to serve God? In the end the manager used wealth to build relationship. We may not like his desperate means, but he took his desperate times and built relationships out of them.

How do we use our wealth? Perhaps more to the point, do we use our wealth? Are we enslaved to our wealth, or do we find a way to use our wealth to build relationships – not just with the people that we love, but those beyond our doors? Do we use our wealth to build up the kingdom? Do we use our wealth to further relationship with others and with God? It becomes a question of stewardship. How do we use our wealth to serve God?

It seems to me that maybe one reason the dishonest manager was praised was because he used wealth at all. Wealth is a tricky thing. I convince myself that if I ever get to a certain level of wealth, that I will be generous with my wealth. I will make sure I give away as much of it as possible. I will most certainly use it to build up the kingdom. But will I? I don’t know. I do know that most of the time I operate as though I will never have enough. Scarcity drives me. It drives my decision making about money, and about a whole lot of other things. I am so worried that the money will be gone, that it will run out and the ones I love will be left without, that being generous and building up the kingdom is not the first thing on my mind.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that is what Jesus wanted those who would listen to hear. The dishonest manager did something with the wealth he had control over. He reduced people’s debts. Yes, he was dishonest. Yes, he acted like a scoundrel would act. But he did something with it. He built relationships where there were none. Maybe Jesus wants us to understand that whatever wealth we have or don’t have, we are called to serve God first. The kingdom of God is in our midst, but nothing clouds our vision, our ability to see God, like money does. So we have to talk about it. And we have to talk about it at other times than stewardship emphasis season. We have to talk about money, and we have to do something with our money. We are called to serve God and to build relationships with others. We must be shrewd with our wealth, so that the gospel can be proclaimed and God’s kingdom can be fully realized.

This passage is still confusing. It still seems upside down and inside out, but the good news is that God works through our confusion. God works through our fear. God works through our desperate times and our desperate measures. God works through us, and that is what we must trust. God works through us. God calls us in spite of ourselves, and God loves us, today and everyday.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.

Lost. Found. Rejoice.

Luke 15:1-10

September 15, 2019

            “Let’s get ice cream!”

I was really excited when Brock told me that the gathering we were going to have the night before my trial sermon was an ice cream social. I was excited because I knew it would be a fun and laid back way to start getting to know one another, and two, because the phrase, “Let’s get ice cream!” is often how celebrations begin in our family. It can also be the start of Tuesday night in our family, but that’s another sermon.

Often whenever an accomplishment has occurred, an achievement has been achieved, someone will suggest, “Let’s get ice cream.” So off we go. After band concerts and choir concerts, one act play competitions, band competitions, exams passed – if some success has been attained, we go for ice cream. That’s one way that we rejoice.

            Rejoicing is big in the parables before us today. I would say there seems to be a lot of rejoicing going on in these two parables in Luke’s gospel. And if we were to read the third parable about a father and two sons, we would hear the sounds of even more rejoicing.  

A sheep is lost, Jesus said. One sheep out of 99, but the shepherd drops everything and leaves the other sheep alone to go and find the one lost sheep. When he finds the sheep, he is so glad and grateful to have found the one that he calls together his friends and neighbors saying,

            “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.”

And if that tale of lost, found and rejoicing wasn’t enough, how about the second parable about a woman who lost her coin?

What woman, having ten coins and losing one, does not light the lamp and sweep the house until she finds the lost coin? And when she finds it, she calls together her friends and neighbors and says,

“Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.”

But the rejoicing wasn’t just happening amongst these people, Jesus said. After each parable, Jesus reminds those who were listening that if they think the shepherd’s rejoicing was raucous and the woman’s rejoicing rollicking, than the rejoicing in heaven was even rowdier. If a party could be thrown over one lost sheep, then think about the party over one lost sinner who is found. Consider the celebration of the angels over one lost soul that is reclaimed. The rejoicing in heaven makes the rejoicing on earth pale in comparison.  

Luke begins his recount by saying that Jesus said this to those who were listening, but who were the ones taking in Jesus words? Who was listening to Jesus tell these parables? As was so often the case, tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to listen to Jesus. Tax collectors were also sinners, but they were considered so sinful they needed their own special category. Both groups of sinners were inching their way ever closer to Jesus. However it was their presence that caused the Pharisees and scribes to grumble and murmur. Jesus was committing a social and religious faux pas by associating with these people, and worse to them, Jesus was violating the Law by associating with them.

But in truth, Jesus was doing what he always did. He was leaping over social barriers and transgressing cultural boundaries without a backwards glance. He taught and preached to and ate with and accepted hospitality from people who were not always welcome with the “good” folks in society. But it was these sinners who were drawing close to him. They were the ones coming near, eager, maybe even desperate for a word of hope, a word of God and a message of good news.

But the religious folks don’t like this, and they do not know how to handle it. They don’t know what to make of Jesus. Surely Jesus knows who these people are. Surely he knows that they are outsiders and outcasts. But still Jesus sits with them and eats with them. Jesus doesn’t just associate with these sinners, he pulls them into relationship with him. And at this, the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled. Because if Jesus was willing to welcome these people, these cheaters, these apostates, then he might make it look okay to be a sinner and a tax collector. Then what would happen to the good people? What would happen to the folks who did their duty, obeyed the Law to the last letter? They were also listening to Jesus, and if they started rubbing shoulders with these sinners, maybe they too would head down the wrong path. In other words, you are who you hang out with. As one commentator put it, how many parents have spent hours warning their children about the dangers of the company they keep. And yet here’s Jesus, keeping some pretty bad company – at least in the eyes of the religious leaders. But were these people really bad or were they lost, lost just as the sheep and the coin were?  Lost and needing to be found?

            To Jesus they were lost. So he tells all who will listen, especially those other 99, parables to hopefully open their hearts and their minds; to God and to each other. Jesus told them parables. But remember parables were not nice little bedtime stories for adults. Parables come with a twist. They carry a verbal punch, designed to shock and disturb. Parables pushed those listening to consider who they might be in the parable, and even more importantly to think about who God is – in the parable and in their lives.

            If they owned 100 sheep and one of them became lost, wouldn’t they go out and search for that lost sheep? Wouldn’t they take the risk of leaving the other 99 who were safe and together and go back out to find the lost one? Wouldn’t they, when they found it, lay it over their shoulders and call for friends and neighbors to rejoice that the sheep has been found?  

            And wouldn’t they search like that woman for the lost coin? Wouldn’t they do what she did – light the lamp and sweep the house until they found it? And when the coin was finally located, wouldn’t they also call all of their friends together and get the party started because what has been lost is now found. Wouldn’t they rejoice?

But here’s the thing; maybe they wouldn’t do those things. To be honest, the shepherd leaving the 99 sheep alone, exposed to threat and danger, to go out and hunt down the one lost sheep seems kind of reckless. He could have found the lost one only to come back and find the other 99 gone – or worse. That doesn’t seem wise or prudent.

And would they have done what that woman did? I can understand searching for the lost money, but inviting all of her friends in to celebrate probably cost more than the one coin was worth to begin with. Neither parable showed people acting with what we might consider common sense.

But maybe that’s the point. It’s not about common sense; at least not what we think of when we hear those words. For us it might be wiser and a more sound investment to let the one sheep go or to forego a party over the reclaiming of one lost coin. But that isn’t what God was about. It isn’t what God is about. Isn’t that what a parable is supposed to do? Show us what God is about.

Biblical scholar, teacher and preacher, David Lose, wrote that in past years he thought of these parables as giving us a window into God’s persistence. God refuses to give up on even one lost sheep. God persists in looking for that one lost coin. God adamantly keeps looking for the one sinner, lost and alone, even while the other 99 wait. But maybe, just maybe, there is another way to see the workings of God in these parables. Maybe this is another way of seeing God’s extravagance. God is extravagant in looking for the lost one. And God is extravagant in rejoicing when the lost one is returned.

If my family’s go to for rejoicing is stopping for a dish of ice cream, then in heaven the ice cream would be flowing like rivers. And that’s because God is extravagant. God is extravagant in pursuing even one lost sinner. God is extravagant in rejoicing when that sinner returns. God is extravagant in this because God is extravagant in love. God never gives up because God never stops loving. God rejoices in finding one lost sheep because God is extravagant with grace. If these parables give us a window in which to see God, to see God’s heart, then what we find, what we see is extravagance.

God is profligate in hope, grace and love. God is reckless in pursuing the lost, and God is extravagant in welcoming the lost back home. And God is extravagant in rejoicing. The question is: can we follow God’s extravagant example? Can we show that same incongruous pursuit of one lost person? Can we show the same forbearance, can we rejoice with the same abandon and abundance? Can we do what God does and show grace, extravagant, celebratory grace to all?

Lost. Found. Rejoice. God does it all with extravagance.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.

This New Thing

            Maybe a quote will help. Some pithy words of wisdom from a renowned author or great thinker will swiftly kick whatever brain synapses of creativity that currently reside inside my head into spinning new strands into the webs of my thoughts. But no quote I found, no words of wisdom proved imagination inspiration.

            Yet, why do I need a quote? Why do I need another’s words to encourage my own? With all due respect to more prolific writers and their musings, their words are not a requirement for me finding my own. I am doing a new thing. I am doing my new thing.

            So much change. So much transition. So much leaving and letting go. So much new to learn, to welcome, to experience. That is what this blog is about. That is what I hope to write: this new thing I am doing.

            What newness will I write about? New love and new marriage, with my recent wedding to my lovely and dear best friend, sweetheart, husband. New arrangement of family with one child in college and the other living with us, trying to find her way, trying to find herself. New children in my step (why do we use this word to describe new families through marriage?) children, all grown, but I hope they will find friendship in me.

            New church. New call. New ministry. New service. That will be fodder and fuel for this new literary endeavor. New sermons to post, but even more, new thoughts to share and old thoughts to re-explore and reshape.

            New me? No, not so much. Just me growing older, maybe becoming a little wiser, seeking to find a better fit in my old skin.

            New, novel, newly, new. This new thing? I’m doing it.