Sunday, October 16, 2022
/Proper 24 C
2 Tim 3:14-4:5; Luke 18:1-8
The Rev. Cn. Joann Saylors
It is said about Episcopalians, and I have found this to be true, that we do something once, and we hate it.
Do it twice, and we don’t mind it. Do it three times, and it’s a cherished tradition, especially if we know its story. Persistence matters.
This is what Paul seems to be reminding Timothy of in our Epistle reading today. Paul says, “Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it.” Tradition is much more meaningful if we know where it comes from, because it shows how we fit into a much larger world than just the one we see around us.
Our rituals in church can seem arbitrary if we don't take the time to learn their history. But when we do, they come alive in new and exciting ways. We can find deep joy in doing things that are connected to what those who have gone before us did in the years, decades, even centuries that came before.
We hear it over and over. We are living in the midst of turbulent times in the church. The world is changing at a faster pace than any other time in human history, and we often struggle to make sense of it. We know that the Church catholic, the Episcopal Church, and individual congregations have to adapt to survive, and we struggle to figure out how. People put forth suggestions that the church needs something radical to shake it up – we love that word “radical.” So people strive to create new, groundbreaking liturgies or some radical new thinking. People argue on Twitter about this all the time. You may have heard the term “radical hospitality,” or a “radical departure” from what we’ve done before.
But what does “radical” really mean? We think of it in the sense of “thoroughgoing,” or “extreme,” in the sense of radical change. But that's actually the second definition. The first can be quite different, because it means “getting back to our roots.” So a radical departure, is, in a weird way, a paradox. If change is to be “radical,” it’s not a departure from; it’s a return to what was before.
What is it that Paul, if he were writing to us, instead of Timothy, might be saying that we need to return to?
Old knowledge, new context. Paul was on it. So he would likely reiterate what he said to Timothy, that “all scripture is inspired by God.” And then he might add, “but notice that I said ‘inspired by God’ and not ‘the literal word of God,’ so don’t forget to make use of the intelligence and powers of reason that God gave you to apply the essence of the gospel to today’s situation. Like me.” Paul loves the way we Episcopalians think.
Second, he would reinforce what he said to Timothy: “For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires.” “Watch out for the church in our consumer culture. People church shop so they can find something that feels good instead of making a commitment and sticking to it.”
Faced with the question of how to be relevant in the twenty-first century world, it is tempting for us in the church to market our services and programs as if they were consumer products or self-help accessories to complement our busy lifestyle choices. It is tempting for us not to demand too much of people, tempting for us to make church as convenient as possible, tempting for us to simply go along with a culture that runs like a puppy from one thrilling toy to another, and tempting for us to give in to the myth of instant gratification.
But we shouldn’t be so focused on trying to create something brand new. Church – the body of Christ, the communion of saints – is about being grafted on to what has come before. It's about persistent faithfulness to what we have been given, even while we add to it and re-present it to a new context.
Persistence and continuity matter. Let's talk about our Gospel reading.
I’ll start with a question. If I were to say, “God is <blank>,” how would you answer? God is ________________. Love. Ok, let’s put that over here for now. On to the scripture.
Today’s text, the story of the persistent widow and the pestered judge, is, at first read, confusing, and on second read, frustrating, at least for me. It seems as if Jesus is saying that the unjust judge is like God. We're invited to do that, after all, when we hear a parable, to figure out where God shows up. Which character in the story stands in for God?
And when we think about our relationship to God, it seems obvious where we start. God is all-powerful, the source of life and being, and we go to God with what little we have, pleading for justice. God is the judge and we are the hapless widow. Eventually the widow wears the judge down and he grants her the justice she seeks. Not because of anything noble like faith or respect for people or the laws of society, but because he's sick to death of her.
So, therefore, the moral of the story is that persistence pays off. Just like I said to the kids. Because children’s sermon’s need to be short and clear. And I don’t disagree with that, really.
But I can’t leave it there. How on earth can the jerk of a judge in the story stand in for God if his primary motivation is only to be left alone? We'd be back to paradox again, because the God I know from scripture is operating from the desire to be with us, not away from us. So, lesson of persistence notwithstanding, having the judge stand in for God can't be right.
One answer is that God is in this story only in comparison or even opposition to the judge. If someone like that will eventually grant justice, how much more so will a good God do the same? That's a traditional explanation of the parable, but I have to confess, I'm not in love with that interpretation. Because somehow the moral still seems to come out that God's granting justice falls on us and our works. We've got to do all the work to get justice from God. Our persistence still matters, just like in the story, but maybe it just won't take as long with God as it would with some unjust human.
So why don't we take a moment to hold what has come before and add a new interpretation to it? Present another layer of meaning? What if the unjust judge isn't God at all, but instead the widow stands in for God? What might that teach us about God instead? How about the fact that God is not only interested but takes the initiative in relationship with us? That God won't give up on relationship with us, but will continue to persist in trying to reach us? That God's passion for justice is unrelenting? That sometimes it takes our being worn down and vulnerable for God to reach us, but that when it happens, we are changed and transformed? Maybe it’s not “God is love” at all, but “God is faithful.”
Barbara Brown Taylor once said that prayer is how you bother God and how God bothers you back. Persistence both ways. Seems to fit with this story.
Persistence in prayer matters. So does persistence in faith. That is not a new lesson. But maybe we need to hear it with fresh ears in the context of today's church. The world is changing around us. Our lives are in constant flux. The wider church is changing around us as it sees the changes in the world. St. Andrew’s is growing and changing. The vision for the future continues to change. Maybe how you understand yourselves as a community is changing. We used to think about church happening inside the building; how exciting – and how intimidating – to think about church being us, outside the walls.
Maybe we need to be reminded that God is persistent, and THEN think about what our faithful persistence really looks like.
Persistence in connecting to the world around, persistence in exploring how to be the church, matters. We live in confusing times. “Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it.” And yet, add to the tradition and keep making the tradition fresh for a new context. A paradox, possibly, and the kind of paradox that only persistent prayer can solve. Ultimately what I think Paul would say is that we should take risks, try the unfamiliar and reach out to the unknown, while still remaining faithful to the tradition and the values that we share, trusting God is always there. Because when we remember that, our tradition and values keep us together even while we grow and change.
As we head into stewardship season, it’s worth thinking about this relationship between where we’ve been and what new places we are called to go. About our connection to the past and our promises to the future. Stewardship is about so much more than money and budgets; it’s about recognizing that all we have is God’s and discerning how best to tend it in a way that brings Good News to the world. And what we find is that we are called both to the paths worn from where the church has trod for millennia, and we are called to create new paths in a world overgrown by the weeds of noise and conflict.
The good news is that wherever this new way of being leads us, whatever the future has in store for us, capital-C Church and St. Andrew’s church, we never go alone. We go together into this neighborhood and this world. We go with those who have gone before, ordinary saints who have taken their own risks in carrying the Christian tradition into new contexts. And of course we go with that persistent God, who walks with us anywhere and everywhere, because, after all, God is _____________. AMEN.