Jesus had been speaking to them about the challenges of discipleship (Luke 17:1-4). He warned them against using their power and position to mislead the vulnerable. He cautioned there would be times when the disciples sinned against one another. Jesus was trying to prepare them for the inevitable reality that disciples would violate boundaries and norms that caused harm and fractured relationships. He explained when this happens, they were to communicate this harm to the offending party, and if that person repented, they were to forgive them (Luke 17:3-4). Irrelevant of how many times they came up short, if they sincerely repented, they were to forgive one another. Over, and over again. Maybe we can understand why they begged Jesus to, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5)
So, how do we know if we have enough faith? Jesus tells them, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you” (Luke 17:6). In other words - the apostles are maybe asking the wrong question. It is not about having enough faith. It is about having faith, period. The tiniest grain of trust is more than enough. Because faith is not quantifiable. Faith is simply showing up. Faith is our intention to trust in God. Note I said intention - faith is not all the times we successfully put our trust in God. Our success rate is irrelevant to God. Faith is when we seek to trust, when we are mindful of our intentions. All God really wants from us is to show up; embodying our willingness to be part of something far greater than ourselves - a movement. Jesus routinely reiterated the why behind this movement: we are called to proclaim in thought, word, and deed the transformative power of God’s Love, knowing we can change this world for the better when humanity works in concert with God and one another. Faith is showing up with an intention to be a part of this movement. To hold our hands open, with a willingness to lend our ideas, our time, and our resources towards this movement, and see where the journey takes us. To further make his point, Jesus describes another parable that is pretty challenging to our contemporary sensibilities. At first glance, it would appear Jesus is comparing disciples to slaves, and unworthy slaves at that. (Luke 17:7-10) You’ll be delighted to know that the many commentaries out there we normally turn to more or less ignore these verses except for acknowledging they are challenging. Thanks, scholars. So, bear with me as we try to gauge what Jesus may have meant. When I was imagining how this parable might speak to us today, I imagined the relationship between an employer and an employee. As an employer, do you stop an employee from carrying out their daily tasks midday, with a fraction of their work complete? Do you gush and praise over the employee when they have not yet even produced the bare minimum? Do you hand them their paycheck midday, maybe with a little bonus reward tucked inside the envelope? Generally not. Rather, it is expected when you hire an employee, and you outline the tasks for them to accomplish, that they will do those tasks to the best of their ability, and you will pay them fairly for their work. So, why would Jesus offer this odd parable? I think one possibility is that Jesus may be responding to the apostles' earlier plea, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5) The apostles were concerned with the question we began this sermon with: How do we know if we have enough faith? Since faith is not quantifiable, Jesus may be reframing the apostles’ anxiety about having enough; shifting them towards a more helpful question: How do we embody our faith? I think in this parable, Jesus is reminding the disciples that faith is about showing up, with hands open, and a willingness to share ourselves with this movement. To show up each day, with some intention to bring our best selves. To not be concerned with any kind of reward - as that is irrelevant to faith. Faith is not something we pay God to receive some magical, heavenly good. Faith is our love, our hope, our curiosity, our aches and longings to connect to the highest power in this universe and one another, as well as a willingness to do our small part. And the possibly comical aspect of this particular parable, is that it also holds at least one other truth. While we are not invited to have faith in order to be rewarded - God is not unlike the employer Jesus describes. God does interrupt our daily work with the magical, mystical, beauty of creation. We find our work interrupted when we notice a setting sun, or a flower in full bloom. For that matter, God does gush and praise humanity in spite of our frequently ridiculous behaviors. I sometimes imagine that to God we are like toddlers in the throes of our terrible twos - completely beastly when we want to be, and yet at the same time we remain the children that God loves beyond any possible measure. God gushes over us with a parental love that makes no sense, but is simply true. And while we are not supposed to be in this faith thing for the rewards - I find my faith leads me to discover an endless series of rewards. On any given day, I experience the reward of a job well done, of a community coming together to help address a need, the reward of building relationships with folks I may never have crossed paths with if it were not for my faith. So, while we are not invited to believe for the sake of reward - there are rewards. But maybe these treasures can only be found when we are not seeking them out. Maybe they can only be found when we show up with intention, hands held open, and a willingness to be part of the transformative love of God in this world. We began today’s sermon by asking how do we know if we have enough faith? The truth of the matter is we have more than enough. Especially when we come together as a community and through the miracle of sharing we each contribute our ideas, our funds, and our time to the ministry we have been called into here at Saints James and Andrew. Like the apostles’, we don’t need Jesus to increase our faith - we have more than enough. As a loved one said in response to this passage - when it comes to faith, the real question is - what are we going to do with it? As we head back into the world today, I wonder:
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Yet, with this captive audience, Jesus actually does the opposite. He attempts to convince the crowd of the price they will pay if they choose to become followers on the Way of Love. While it might sound odd, I think there is some comfort to be found in such explicit honesty. After all, it is incredibly rare to encounter such complete transparency and truth. It provides the necessary components to build an abiding trust.
Who are the truth tellers in your life? It is not always easy to hear what they have to say, but we often know we can trust their sense of things. Jesus is our truth teller. Both in this gospel story, and in our lives today, we can trust the truth he conveys: there is a price to joining this movement. That price may look and feel different for us than it did for the early Church. And what feels costly to one of us, may not feel as costly to another. Yet as we continue to think about what it means to be the Church today, it is worth spending a little time unpacking that price. So, what is the price of joining this movement? In essence, Jesus tells the crowd: Joining this movement may cost you your priorities, your primary relationships, your possessions, plans, and pride. I imagine this list is not exhaustive, but it does serve as a warning that this movement is not one to be taken lightly. It is the real deal, and the price may feel too steep for some. Jesus is not trying to pull some sleazy sales move. Rather, he is drawing the crowd's attention to the fine print, and offering them a magnifying glass so the actual cost does not go unnoticed. He compares the decision to when a landowner questions whether they are actually in a position to build a new tower or a king is in a position to wage a war. These particular comparisons also let us know that within the crowd were several influential and affluent individuals - as the vast majority of folks in antiquity were not facing decisions of such economic scale. Jesus is telling the crowd: Know what you are getting yourselves into. The text tells us his speech to the crowd began: “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. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26-27) For most of us - this passage can be more than a little troubling. At first glance, his instruction to hate some of the most important people in our lives seems to contradict his overarching message. Yet after some reflection, we might find the meaning underneath these harsh words. Jesus may be trying to tell his listeners that - being a part of this movement will change our priorities. We generally tend to be concerned with our own self-preservation or that of our family’s. If we are particularly generous, we might care about the preservation of the wider community. Yet God’s dream goes beyond any individual, family, community, or nation. If we join this movement, we are embracing God’s priorities in lieu of our own. Is that a price we are willing to pay? Families tend to share priorities, and when they don’t, tension and conflict may begin to breed. While it may be a very simple example, we lived through this family tension when I was ordained and began parish ministry. When I entered the ordination process, it was with the loving and enthusiastic support of our large extended family. While most of the family was from a different branch of the Jesus Movement - our core values of faith were largely the same. Maybe it was because of this, that I did not anticipate the tension that arose. As I began to need to be present at worship on Sunday mornings and on high holy days like Christmas and Easter, the reality began to set in. It meant we moved away from our extended family, and we began to attend less family events - as most were on Saturday night's and took place several hours away. Nor did we partake in the long standing traditions of the large Christmas gathering or Easter morning brunch. Our priorities were to spend these sacred days, and most Sundays, with our faith community, and we joined in large family events as we were able. Our faith led our priorities elsewhere, and while it was understood by all on a practical, intellectual level - it was not always understood on an emotional one. On an emotional level it was disappointing for some that we had chosen these priorities, and it has caused some uncomfortable conversations over the years. Even as we all love one another deeply, and want one another to be happy. We each do our best to try and understand where the other is coming from, and are intentional about enjoying the time that we do spend together. When we choose priorities that differ from our family - whether it be from our faith or some other reason - there will naturally be tension and it may lead to more challenging conflicts and broken relationships. Many of us have experienced this fracture when it comes to social justice issues. When our faith leads us to change our practices to address climate change, there are other loved ones who may mock this choice because they do not believe climate change exists. There are countless ways for these divisions to bubble up in our primary relationships. Jesus wants the crowd to understand that - being a part of this movement will change your priorities, which will lead to a change in your primary relationships. That change may be barely perceptible, or it might be acutely painful. Is that a price we are willing to pay? Jesus then takes his point one step further by telling the crowd: “...none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions." (Luke 14:33) Remember, he has just compared their need to carefully consider the cost of joining this movement to that of a landowner questioning whether they are actually in a position to build a new tower or whether a king is in a position to wage a war. There are several affluent and influential people in the crowd. And he has just told them that the price of joining this movement is giving up all their possessions. I imagine this message was startling to say the least. Yet, underneath his blunt message, is an astute and important truth. Jesus is telling the crowd - your possessions cost you more than you know. Our possessions hold power over us. In order to walk the Way of Love, we need to be ready to give up those possessions and release ourselves of the power they hold over us. This doesn’t mean you quite literally need to give up all your possessions - it means you constantly need to be examining your relationship to your possessions. So, what do we possess? Well, we possess money. We store it in our purses, in jars in our cupboards, maybe underneath our mattresses, and in our bank accounts, 401ks, stock investments, and other assets. The more money we have, the more we may be tempted to protect that money. Or if we have lived with scarcity our whole lives, what little money we do have we cling to with dear life. If we are not mindful of our relationship to money, we can find ourselves serving our money, instead of focusing on God’s priorities on the Way of Love. We also possess a lot of physical stuff. As Americans, we are particularly prone to owning a ridiculous amount of stuff. This stuff fills and clutters our homes. Businesses use advertisements to convince us that all our problems will be solved if we simply buy this one product or subscribe to this one service. So we do it. We buy more stuff, which requires more of our time to use the stuff, more of our attention to take care of the stuff, and more of our money to maintain the stuff. And I would argue, all that physical stuff cluttering our lives reflects the internal clutter we carry around inside our souls. In other words, without an intentional relationship with our physical stuff, we may find ourselves serving our stuff, and lose sight of God’s priorities on the Way of Love. We also possess things like plans and pride. Plans are beautiful and wonderful, but the more tightly we hold them, the more our pride can get in the way, which in turn distracts us from God’s priorities. I think this is something the Church can really struggle with. We get stuck on a particular idea of how we believe things should be and we hold onto it tightly - refusing to genuinely consider other possibilities we might hear if we listened to the still, small voice of God. And all of this draws our energy and resources away from God’s dream. Given one of our jobs as the Church is to work in concert with God and one another to help bring about God’s dream for creation - that is deeply troubling. Jesus wants the crowd to understand that - being a part of this movement will require you examine your relationship with possessions and be willing to give them up - again, and again, and again. Is that a price we are willing to pay? This week, what if we reflected on the price of being a part of the Way of Love, and asked ourselves:
Amen.
This was the advice given:
Dear Anonymously Anxious, So often at these gatherings we want to sit near the host and the most distinguished guests. To the degree that we will sometimes strategize how to get the best seat. I do not recommend this course of action. When we go after the best seats, our actions are telling others just how important we believe we are, and risk putting our host, other guests, and ourselves in a truly awkward position. For if a more distinguished guest arrives, and your host had intended the better seat for them, it will feel disgraceful to be asked to move to a lesser seat. I would recommend that you actually take the worst seat, the one that is the furthest from the host and influential guests; the one that is uncomfortable to sit in for any length of time. Far better for your host to come and move you further up at the table, and be honored before everyone else. And if I may take this one step further - influential community members like yourself might avoid hosting these kinds of banquets geared entirely for the affluent and prominent. These networking events only ever benefit the powerful people in the room, and an invitation always comes with an expectation of reciprocity. Far better to throw a banquet for those who can never possibly reciprocate. If you want to host a lavish meal, why not invite those experiencing poverty or loneliness? This is the path where true blessing can be found. Anonymously Anxious, I wish you the best of luck at this dinner party. And remember, as my readers know me for saying: ‘All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’* Sincerely, Jesus of Nazareth The end. Alright, so we know Jesus did not really keep an advice column for his local paper. In reality, when we find him in today’s gospel, he is in an incredibly tricky position. Jesus has been invited to attend this sabbath meal at the home of a local religious leader, and is one of many influential guests at this event. The text actually tells us that these folks were keeping a close eye on Jesus to see how he would handle himself (Lk 14:1). When Jesus notices his fellow guests strategically maneuvering for the most prominent seat, he offers them this parable on humility. One reason why we might play with this parable as an advice column is because Jesus’ wisdom in this text is timeless. Last Sunday during the sermon, I shared a question I’ve been preoccupied with - What does it mean to be the Church today? We explored one of the unchanging roles of the Church: to proclaim in thought, word, and deed the transformative power of God’s Love, which can change this world for the better when humanity works in concert with God and one another. We focused on the idea that one way our generation is particularly called to embody this work is by bringing hope to the hopeless. While there are many ways we can do this, today’s gospel lesson on humility offers us yet another way of offering that hope. Particularly given the overall sense of loneliness, despondency, and disenfranchisement within our society. We are told again and again through various forms of media that the balm to our souls will be More. More stuff, more alcohol, more drugs, more sex, more netflix and chill; more power; more money; more ego; more, more, more. Yet in spite of this pervasive messaging, these things seem to only deepen our overall sense of despair. A theme throughout the gospels is Jesus' repeated emphasis on humility, which he models through servant leadership. Jesus rarely focuses attention on himself, and routinely redirects people's attention towards God’s dream for this world; the greater good of creation. Which, in the context of the wider culture, is unusual - both then and now. It is his servant leadership style that makes him stand out. Some of the most memorable leaders within the history of the Church are the ones who embraced Jesus’ model of servant leadership. Read up on any of the saints for inspiration. They could see beyond themselves, which allowed them a vision of what could be possible when we set our egos aside and work towards a greater good for the whole of creation. This is what we are signing up for when we choose to follow the Way of Love and be a part of the Church. We are telling the world - it’s not about me. It is about this greater good that we believe is possible through the transformative love embodied by Christ and Christ’s Church.We believe in this so deeply, that we want to live our lives as servant leaders. And when the Church remembers that is what we are about - the world doesn’t quite know what to do with us. Because the Way of the World is focused on the gratification of the self: what do I want, what do I need, what do I stand to gain. Me, me, me. But the Way of Love is about the greater good of all creation: What is creation asking of us? What do our neighbors need? How can we better support the whole community? When we embody servant leadership, it is with greater ease that we proclaim in thought, word, and deed that there is another way to live. Those who have been living with the fog of societal despair, witness embodied servant leadership, and it often inspires that fog to begin to lift, and seeds of hope can take root in the soil. The effect of this is that our shared sense of hope grows; we believe that change really is possible when we work in concert with God and one another. Change starts within each one of us. And it starts with a small dose of curiosity and self-awareness. When we are seeking to solve a problem, ask ourselves: Who am I trying to help here? What are the needs of all the affected parties? When we are struggling with a situation in our family, with our colleagues at work, or in a ministry at church, ask ourselves: What are my motivations? What will help this system be the best version of itself? This kind of ongoing examination prevents us from focusing too much on personal preservation, seeking reciprocity or self-serving opportunities. As that is not the dance we have been invited into. Rather, we have been invited into a flash mob dance. This is when a group of people assemble in a public place and perform together for a brief time before quickly dispersing in different directions. Those who were simply going about their day, suddenly find themselves in the middle of something beautiful and unexpected. These unsuspecting folks are startled awake with a bigger, more beautiful dream of what is possible when we work in concert. In turn, this feeds our collective and communal sense of hope. As the Church, when we say yes to this dance, we become part of a movement that brings hope to the most unexpected places. As we head back into the world today, I wonder if we all might do some reflecting: What does the word ‘humility’ stir up in you? Why? When have you been inspired by servant leadership? Is there an instance when you saw people work in concert towards a greater good? How did that inspire hope in you? Where in your life might you need to do some shifting of perspective? If so, what needs to change? Amen. * Luke 14:11
It’s possible this question is redundant; unnecessary even. After all, in some respects the answer is unchanging. In today’s Collect we actually see some of that unchanging answer outlined:
“Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name…” In other words, we are united by the Holy Spirit as a body of Christ, called to proclaim in thought, word, and deed the transformative power of God’s Love. To proclaim to the world the ability of our Creator to change this world for the better when humanity works in concert with God and one another. This particular calling of the Church belonged as much to the early Church as it does to us today. What does change are the particular contexts that each generation finds itself. Over the last several decades, America’s religious landscape has changed drastically. While the decline of those who identify as having no religious affiliation, often called the Nones, has slowed down, they still represent roughly 25% of the population. (1). Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, they represent 50% of the population. (2) I share this information not to discourage our work as the Church, but rather to invite our curiosity. Our neighbors in the United Kingdom have been experiencing a high percentage of Nones for quite a bit longer than we have. I wonder, what can we learn from them about what it means to be the Church today? Our family recently returned from visiting some close friends who moved to England during the pandemic. We explored different corners of the country, and forced our kids to visit what must have felt like an endless number of churches, abbeys, minsters, and cathedrals. They were pretty tolerant about it all, and it helped that many of these cathedrals have their own cafes offering tea and cakes. Admittedly, we are not beneath bribery. What stood out to me the most was not the remarkable architecture, the dazzling stained glass, beautifully kept gardens and grounds, or the incredible history. Though those were all very impressive. What impressed me the most were the churches that seemed to understand deeply that their church did not actually belong to them. Rather, they were caretakers of a sacred space that belonged to God and was meant for everyone. They use it for their parish life and worship services, but have cultivated an environment in their hospitality ministry that welcomes people of all faiths and none to find rest, refreshment, and renewed strength throughout the week. We live with a 24 hours news cycle that is dominated by fear and scarcity. Even when we manage how much news we choose to take in, we often can end up feeling overwhelmed by all the desperate, enraging, and heart wrenching news. We may wish we could do something to address the state of our nation, or the climate crisis, or systemic racism, poverty and injustice, but find ourselves feeling too powerless and helpless to do so. It is easy to get sucked into a sense of hopelessness. Honestly, that’s how those holding all the power want us to feel. Except, we are the Church. We know a power that is greater than anything else in this world. We know the Good News. We know that change is possible. We know there is always hope. We know that Love is the only Way. And as our Collect reminds us today, when we work in concert with God and one another, we can help our world to experience the transformative power of God’s Love. So, what does it mean to be the Church today? I think it means bringing hope to the hopeless. And there are quite a lot of ways we can do that, but for the sake of time, I’m going to focus on the one I’ve carried with me the most this summer. One way that we can bring hope to the hopeless in our community is by welcoming people of all faiths and none into our sacred space. To recognize that this church does not belong to us, but belongs to God and is meant for everyone in the greater community. Our society desperately needs sacred spaces like ours so people can find the rest and renewed strength they need in order to address the issues facing our world today. We are in the privileged position to share a sacred space that embodies the beauty and mystery of the transformative, powerful, Love of God. Those cathedrals in England were flooded with people seeking solace and peace. On a smaller scale, here at James and Andrew, we also welcome an increasing number of people as part of our own hospitality ministry. It started with our outreach ministries and then we began sharing our buildings with others to use. Then we began enhancing our gardens and benches; next we started opening the church for folks to pray, rest, and be during the week; then we welcomed the labyrinth onto our grounds; and most recently we added picnic tables. Soon, there will even be bike stands. Each addition has brought an increased number of people who come here seeking rest and a renewed sense of hope. We are in our tenth year of living in the rectory, and on any given day we notice dozens of people utilizing our sacred space. Whether they go inside the church to light a candle, say a prayer, experience silence or listen to the organ being played; eat their lunch at a picnic table; play with their children or grandchildren on the lawn; walk the labyrinth; or take a rest on a bench. Our hospitality ministry started as a small thing, and it has grown more and more each year. As members of James and Andrew, we have the great privilege of caretaking for this sacred space that is truly a physical manifestation of God’s Love and peace. Some of you may know that for a long, long time I used to think church buildings didn’t really matter. So much so, I wrote an article for an Episcopal church practice website on why our buildings just don’t matter. Somehow you called me to be your Rector anyways. Yet witnessing the evolution of this hospitality ministry has affirmed for me what is possible with church buildings when we see them as sacred spaces that belong not just to us, but to God and are meant for everyone. Sacred spaces come in many forms, and are not necessarily even buildings. Yet whatever their shape or size, they have the power to renew people’s sense of hope and possibility. Now more than ever, we need these sacred spaces and centers of hospitality to renew our sense of shared hope for what is possible in God’s world. As we live into our daily life and ministry at James and Andrew, may we increasingly embrace God’s invitation for us to be a sacred space that facilitates people finding a returned sense of hope. One small way we can all do this is by finding small ways to make our sacred space increasingly hospitable. Another small way we can do this is by praying for those in need of hope. We are a people of prayer, and we know that prayer can make a difference. Prayer is one of the many ways we work in concert with God and one another - by directing our collective hearts, minds, and energies towards God’s dream for this world. Add those experiencing hopelessness to your daily prayers - by name or simply by praying for all those seeking sacred spaces and a renewed sense of hope. We also need to help one another maintain our own sense of hope, to remember that we are the Church, and we know of the transformative power of God’s Love that can turn this world upside down, and right side up again, as our Presiding Bishop likes to say. As we prepare to head back into the world today, I wonder if we all might do a little reflecting… What do you think it means to be the Church today? What do you think it means to bring hope to the hopeless? How do you maintain your own sense of hope? Amen.
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