A sermon: The neighbor at our gate (Luke 16. 19–31)

I am delighted to report that it was the very most successful Fall Gift Market we’ve ever had! Thanks to all of you for your very, very hard work and your many, many prayers.  People always want to hear how successful we were, so I have the figures for you today.

1990 men, women, and children came to St. Mary’s yesterday and the day before. By my estimation, they had at least five words of welcome from the shuttle drivers, the parking lot attendants, and the greeters both inside and outside the doors of the Holy Family Center.

We offered every guest a handmade candle, and they couldn’t believed that we were giving something away.  Ask Cindy Angle to tell you about her experience handing out candles.

We invited people to join us for prayer at the beginning and ending of each day, and Katie+ and I visited with all sorts of folks, offering prayers, prayer blankets and prayer shawls.  I’m sure others of you did, too.  Please share your stories.
I was told again and again and again that this was like no other festival; we’re the only ones that give the vendors free lunch.  We feed our guests well. I was told that there was a sweetness, a peace to this place like no other festival.
That’s how successful it was.

I have no idea how much money we made, because as far as I’m concerned, any money is only a bonus. The true value of this Fall Gift Market is the relationships that we formed with one another and, most importantly, the strangers, that is the neighbors, at our gate.  2000 or so folks got a gift of being loved like a neighbor these past two days.  God was well pleased.

Which is what the parable we heard today

is about. It’s not so much a parable about money and how we spend, or don’t spend it.  It’s a parable about how we form relationships with one another. Especially the neighbor at our gate.


In the parable we heard Deacon Russ read, what was the name of the man covered in sores starving at the gate of the house of the man dressed in purple and linen?
Lazarus.

And what was the name of the rich man who feasted sumptuously every day?
We’re not told. 

And that’s when Jesus’ listeners would have particularly picked up their ears. The man with power and wealth?  We’re never told his name. But the man without worldly value, who could be walked by without a second glance, he’s given a name. In fact, this is the only time that a character in a parable by Jesus is named.

And what does the name Lazarus mean?  God has helped.

There is another Lazarus, a friend of Jesus’ who he raises from the dead, but there’s no reason to make a connection. Only in John’s gospel is that Lazarus, Jesus’ friend, part of Jesus’ story. No doubt there were many Lazaruses in Jesus’ day as there are many Bills and Mikes and Bobs today.

Jesus’ listeners would have known that Jesus was especially saying something important when he named the man who most would think had no particular value, and the one who would have been highly regarded was nameless. Though one author I read did give him this name:

The Indifferent-Man-Who-Could-Have-Listened-to-Moses-and-the-Prophets-and-Followed-God’s-Way-of-Life-and-Been-Welcomed-Into-Paradise-by-Father-Abraham-But-Chose-Not-To.

What did the man who dressed in linen and purple do wrong? What was his sin? What the man did was that he ignored the man in need at his gate.  His neighbor.

He walked right past the man with a name, Lazarus  and it was if Lazarus, covered in sores, suffering terribly–Jesus uses hyperbole so that we’ll not miss how bad it was; how hard it would have been to ignore Lazarus’ wounds being licked by dogs– it was as if Lazarus was invisible to the man in linen and purple.

What the man in linen and purple did not do was do the very most essential thing Jesus said to do–he did not form a relationship with the man he passed daily. He did not love his neighbor.

Do we form relationships with those we pass each day? Or are they invisible to us?  That being the problem–they may be so invisible that we don’t even notice that we missed them. Do we pay attention to the people that God places at our gate everyday? Or are we too preoccupied to notice?
There’s a ministry that we’re praying about becoming a part. It’s called 249 and Hope.  Google it.

Deacon Russ, Celeste Booker, and John Albright have been taking part for a couple of Saturdays and I urge you to talk to them. 

249 and Hope is a ministry of two neighboring churches.  A small group of men and women go out every Saturday morning and take a fresh cooked meal to serve to the homeless who live in our area, particularly in the woods that are all along 249. They are the men we may not see at the intersections along 249 selling Houston Chronicles or holding up signs. But every Saturday morning, a group of eight or so lovers of Jesus, make seven or so stops off 249 between the Beltway and Spring Cypress and folks may gather, or not, for a meal.

I understand yesterday that our neighbors were served Jim’s beef stroganoff and John’s Mississippi mud cake. 

These missioners offer a genuine smile, a handshake, a prayer, good food, and an offer to help.  And they call the neighbors by name.

Kirk.  Jesse.  Jack.  Tom.  Troy.  Gerald. Calvin.  James.  Roy.  Malcolm.  Frank. Darnell.  Mark.  Cody. Ronald. Lester.  Chuck.  Ferrel.  Ronnie.  David.  Mike.  Mr. Cantu.

Apparently two of our neighbors were invited to worship with us at St. Mary’s. I was asked what we would do if they actually showed up.
I answered that I hoped that the greeters would welcome them in. That they would be offered a name tag and invited to fill out a card giving us more information about them.
That the ushers would give them a word of welcome along with their books and leaflets and that those in the pews would smile at them when they entered.
That when the Peace was exchanged, that those around them would offer them God’s peace with a hug or a handshake.
That if they got lost in the service, that a neighbor in a pew would help them find their way.
That after worship someone would invite them to stay for coffee and a treat.
That they would be invited to Adult Christian Formation.
That’s what I hope.
Because that’s what I hope that every stranger at our gate, every neighbor, on Sunday morning receives.

I would hope that if we saw them on a corner we’d smile at them and wave. That we’d remember to pray for them. That maybe we’d have a bag of grace in our car to offer.

Because here’s what I think. That when we form relationships with others, when we love whatever neighbor God gives us, that we can’t help but provide for them. That we give a little less to ourself and a lot more to someone that needs it more than we do.

What about other neighbors at our gate? I’m not only talking about physical needs.  
I’m talking about a listening ear. A cordial word. A smile.  Kindness.  Respect.
I’m talking about compassion.
I saw so many of you give hospitality and compassion freely yesterday and the day before.
The truth is, as far as I’m concerned, our Fall Gift Market can only be considered successful if that hospitality and compassion continues tomorrow and everyday.  AMEN



Thanking God for another year

At my mother’s farm in Chambersville to celebrate my birthday.  So thankful for all of her hard work to get me born 62 years ago and her even greater work getting me raised. Thank you, Mother!

Yesterday we went to Walmart to buy ingredients for my birthday chocolate pie.

We had a lovely walk around the desme.

We went to Prayer Meeting at her church, First Baptist, McKinney, and enjoyed their Wednesday fellowship.  It made me so very thankful that we have a lively Wednesday night ministry now at St. Mary’s.  I especially enjoyed talking to Brother Joe Smith, a retired bivocational Baptist pastor who served at my Grandma Blanche’s Westminister Baptist Church for twenty years. During the small group Bible Study on Phillipians, he made sure that everyone know how very special my mother is and I was outed as an Episcopal “pastor.”

This morning I woke to blueberry pecan pancakes made for me by my mom using “Jack’s Special Pancake” recipe (my dad’s).  What a lovely way to begin this day having breakfast with her.

In a bit I’ll have to leave because Fall Gift Market starts tomorrow at St. Mary’s, which I consider our biggest “stealth” evangelism event of year.  But I’ll drive home via Plano to have lunch with my brother, Richard.

I’m mindful this day of a practice my friend, Meera, who is from India, observes on her birthday. It is the custom of her home to celebrate another year of birth by giving gifts to others, especially the poor.
As I prepare for preaching on Sunday, the parable of the rich man and the poor man, Lazarus, at his gate, I am mindful of those in need who are invisible to me, and how I can share with them the abundant blessings that I have received, especially on this day.

Lost and Found (Luke 15.1–10): An invitation Sunday sermon

Once again Jesus is hanging out with the sinners and the tax collectors, and the priests and the most devout followers of God are grumbling.

Since the start of summer, Jesus has set his face towards Jerusalem, all the while eating with sinners, and he’s all about the repentance.

Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who need no repentance.

What does repentance mean?

Does repentance mean to be sorry for something we’ve done, to ask for God’s forgiveness, and promise to do better next time?  Yes, it does.  But that’s not the repentance that Jesus is talking about here.

Does repentance mean to change the direction of our lives and follow Jesus as our Savior and Lord?  Yes, it does. But that’s not what repentance means in our Gospel this morning.

It is a definition found only in the Gospel of Luke, as well as I can determine, and Jesus’ repentance today means this:  being sought and found by God.

Repentance where the one who is found doesn’t even have to know that he or she was lost. In the15th chapter of Luke, Jesus tells three parables about the lost being found, and in each case the repentance is the result of the one who is seeking and finding and welcoming and loving. The kind of repentance that God alone does.

As Jesus likes to do, these stories, these parables of lost things found are full of hyperbole.  Starting with the questions that introduce the two lost and found stories we heard Deacon Russ read.
Jesus queries:  


Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them–that is 1% of the flock–does not leave the 99 in the wilderness, the place with no ready water or food or easy protection, and goes after the one that is lost until he finds it?  

Which one of us?  None of us!  None of us, but Jesus’ shepherd does.

And when the shepherd comes back with the sheep over his shoulders, he gathers everyone he knows together and tells them to celebrate that he left 99 perfectly good sheep to find one that was lost?

Which of us?  None of us!!!!!  Throwing a party to celebrate leaving a perfectly good flock to find one lost sheep?  That would be a secret we kept.  Not Jesus’ shepherd.


Or.  Which woman having lost one of her 10 coins stops everything she’s doing, lights every lamp she has, deep cleans everything in the house, and doesn’t stop searching night and day until she finds the one lost coin?  

Which one of us?  Not likely any of us. Sure, we may search, but eventually we’d give up.  Not Jesus’ woman.

And then, once again, which one of us calls together everyone she knows to celebrate the one found coin. We may post on Facebook.  Tweet a photo of the lost coin. But throw a big party that may cost more than the lost coin? None of us!!!!

This is extreme behavior–which is why Jesus tells it. Because the one searching until he and she find that which is lost–whether the object of the search even knows that it needs to be found–is one type of repentance. Repentance that is a radical being found by an even more extravagant God. And in this kind of repentance, the one found has to do what?

Nothing.  Not the sheep.  Not the coin. Not even us.
In this kind of repentance, all of the work is done by the Great Seeker.  God.

Take that lost sheep.  I suspect that no sheep would ever intend to get lost on purpose. 

The sheep simply wanders off, without planning to be lost, sheep not being very good planners, and before it knows it, there it is.  Lost.  I’m told that a lost sheep may not bah bah bah until it’s found; I’m told that a sheep, discovering that it is lost, curls up in a ball and silently tries to hide under a bush hoping to protect itself from predators.


Take a coin. A coin doesn’t even know that it’s lost because it’s a coin. Coins don’t think or have feelings. Coins are simply lost, and there they are.

Jesus wants his listeners, both those who know they are sinners and those who are grumbling members of the inner circle of faith,  Jesus wants all of his listeners to know about a God, today not the God of extraordinary demands, but a God who will never ever stop seeking. A God who is so very crazy in love with each of us that our God will seek and seek and seek and seek again, until each and every beloved lost person is found.  

No exceptions: no matter how full of sin we are or how holy we think we are. 
No matter how lost we are, God will find us.
Many of you know that every Sunday before worship, those serving gather and more often than not one or the other of us says a prayer something like this:

Dear God.  We pray that you will get those people to St. Mary’s whom you’ve called to be here.  And that you will always give us the courage to say yes to your invitation.

We pray for this kind of God-seeking repentance.  God seeking and  God finding.

God has sought each of us and brought us here today. There is great rejoicing in heaven simply because we are here. Jesus would say that the angels in heaven are full of joy.
So like the shepherd and the woman in Jesus’ parables, we throw a great celebration. We do every Sunday. The meal we’ll serve with great joy is called the Eucharist. Eucharist means thanksgiving.

Every Sunday we rejoice over each person who has allowed themselves to be found by God and brought through our doors. To celebrate we serve bread and wine, and because it’s Jesus who has done the inviting, we have what’s called an open table. Yes, the bread and wine, the Lord’s supper, the Holy Communion, the Eucharist is God’s meal. Just like in the stories we read in the Bible, Jesus welcomed the priests and the most holy people as well as the tax collectors and the sinners to join him in his meals. So we are all very welcome here.
Yes, we understand the Eucharist as the meal of those who are baptized, but I must say today, that as Jesus didn’t check the credentials of those who sat at table with him; we won’t either.  Truth be told, we never do.


Granted, the other two definitions of repentance–of being sorry and and asking forgiveness and living better lives; of changing the direction of our lives to follow Jesus as Savior and Lord–are true and worthy to be lived.   Absolutely.  But they are for conversation on another day.

Because today.  In our Gospel today Jesus wants to remind us that repentance is not only about what we do.  Jesus wants to remind us that repentance is also about something even bigger that God does, is doing all of the time. Seeking, seeking, seeking. That’s our God.

And this is the type of repentance which is a return to a community.
The no longer lost sheep being returned to the 99 sheep waiting in the wilderness.
The no longer lost coin being placed next to the 9 coins safely housed in the purse.
To us, a community of people who know that we are lost, and we are found.
And everytime another lost and found soul returns, we can do nothing more pleasing to God than to rejoice.  And share a meal.   Sinners and holy people that we are. People who are lost and people who are found.
AMEN

Not laboring on Labor Day

Sitting at Blacksmith Coffee with a friend, starting my day with my morning devotionals. 
 
Marvel
Something mysterious and very wonderful is taking place today. Marvel at this and give God thanks!
-Br. David Vryhof 
Society of Saint John the Evangelist
The Miracle
The miracle is not to walk on water but on the earth.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Source: quoted in An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor