What does resurrection mean? Luke 20:27-38

Before I begin, how many of you have thought about the willingness of the seventh brother on the eve of his wedding? When I was in catechism and had to study this story as a means of getting us to talk about what the resurrection meant to us, I have to admit that the only thing I could think of was, “How dumb are these guys?” I was 14, and I knew that I would be heading for the hills if I were the seventh brother. Actually, I thought that I might be on the road if I were the fourth brother. I imagined that I didn’t really like my third brother, so I didn’t want to warn him, but I knew my place. I had no idea about the resurrection and what it meant, but I knew that I would have serious concerns about my future wife’s mental health.

Although this is the alternate text for All Saint’s Sunday, I feel that it is wonderfully appropriate that we read this parable today. How wonderfully rich to question life in the resurrection at this time in particular as we celebrate All Saints Sunday. So let us consider this brazen affront to Jesus and to our faith in this time of grateful remembrance.

Within the context of this day and the challenge of this text, we are confronted with “What does the resurrection mean?” We have to understand that life after death was not a new idea in Jesus’ time. But that there was a debate between some Jewish people about life after death. Those who only read the Books of Moses, thought that there was no after life. The Sadducees were part of this group, but they were already in the minority in Jesus’ time. Many of the cultures around the Mediterranean Sea and around the world already believed in an afterlife, but they would be vastly different from what our Christian understanding of heaven is.

The Greeks had hades, a place where warriors could fight and die day after day, only to awaken the next day to fight again. Okay, it wasn’t all that great for women and children, but none-the-less, they had a place of life after death.

The Egyptians had the great necropolis, the city of the righteous dead, who passed the judgment of Osiris, where they lived in comfort, served by those who were righteous enough but not the most righteous. They ate well and were able to take many of their earthly riches with them. Life in the necropolis was highly ordered and reflected the order of the society and culture they had lived in during this life time. It was a great place for the wealthy who had many possessions to bring with them, but not so hot for the poor.

The Norse had their own twist on life after death with Valhalla. It was a place of drinking and fighting, with valorous storytelling and songs, great feasts, and dancing. It was not a place where women faired very well either. They were expected to cook the meals, brew the beer and mead, serve at the tables, clean the victory halls and entertain the men throughout eternity. Women were sent to Valhalla with their men as sacrifices. Children need not apply.

These conceptions of the afterlife were highly restrictive. Only the best of the best were welcomed. At best it was a segregated space for the elite of the world. It reminds me of the story. When this man died, Saint Peter welcomed the person at the pearly gate and said, “Well, there are several places in heaven that you might want to live in throughout eternity. So, let me show you around. He and the person went from place to place. Saint Peter was excited to point out the high points of each place and why the person might choose that location. As they were walking along one of the golden paths, Saint Peter suddenly said, “Now you are going to have to be very quiet until we get to the other side of those trees.”

The person wanted to ask why, but Saint Peter put his finger over his lips. As they tip-toed by, the man saw all kinds of people singing and laughing, playing games and having a picnic. It really looked like a lot of fun.

So when they got beyond the trees, the person finally blurted out, “Why did I have to be quiet there. They were making more than enough noise by themselves. I doubt that they could have heard me if I shouted. What’s the deal?”

Saint Peter said, “We have to be quiet because they are the pious Lutherans and they think that they are the only ones up here.

These stories of heaven as a place of privilege depend on a significant part of the population not being allowed in. Those people are usually resigned to hell. I mean, what kind of fun is heaven if there isn’t a hell? How can the presence of God be open to just anyone?

When we say those words, “He descended into hell, and on the third day he rose again,” we aren’t really saying that Jesus might have taken those people with him into heaven are we? Seriously, when I get to heaven, am I going to have to live next door to that person who never mowed the yard and left trash all over the place am I? We have all kinds of ways of asking the Sadducees question about whose wife will this woman be? And when we do that, we miss the point that Jesus is trying to make.

Living in the eternal presence of God means that life will be different. We will be able to live in a place where God will be first in all that we do. The order of this world will no longer determine our behaviors. Jesus tells us that in a world that thinks of women as property to be sold, traded, or given away in marriage, that that will no longer happen. All people are going to be recognized as valuable and loved. We will no longer belong to one another, but we will belong to God, in relationship with one another in ways that lift up our value. Indeed, this is not a land of the dead that practices deadly games of war. Heaven is not a place that continues to grant privilege to the wealthy, at the expense of the poor. It is not a place where we celebrate our own actions on earth like recounting the tenth inning of the Cubs/Indians game. Heaven is that place where we are invited into Sabbath time to be guests in God’s presence with the angels and like them we will die no more but be called the children of God. As such, we will live in the fullness of our relationships with God and one another.  

In the meantime, in anticipation of that great banquet time with Christ, we continue to see the imago dei, that is, God’s image. reflected to us in the face of our neighbor. We mourn and celebrate the relationships we have with those who have gone before us and value those around us. And, with the promise and hope of the resurrection we continue to lift our neighbors up into the relationships we have with one another and Christ. Claiming, with confidence in the one who is risen from the dead, that God is God of the living, and, although some are dead to us, that they continue to be alive with Christ in the fullness of their relationship with God. In the midst of the craziness and chaos of this world, in the midst of the pain and the sorrow that we know, we can still say with Job, “I know that my redeemer lives and at the last he will stand upon the earth...Then…I shall see God.” With the writer of 2 Thessalonians we can say to one another, “Now may our Lord, Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word.”

What will heaven be like? I really can’t tell you, but I can say that the one who is risen from the dead, that is Jesus Christ, has gone before us and waits for us there with welcome and love.

This is Reformation Sunday, Luke 19:1-10 (ref. corrected 10/23/22)

Almost 499 years ago, Martin Luther posted 95 theses on the door of the Wittenberg chapel inviting the scholars and the clergy of the day to come and debate 95 topics concerning the proclamation of the Gospel in Luther’s time. (In a recent lecture concerning the issues of the Reformation, Dr. Duane Priebe at Wartburg Seminary said, “After almost 500 years, we have made progress. We only need to address about 90 of the original theses today.”) These 95 theses continue to challenge us and continue to lead us into new ways of living in God’s word. I am not going to go into all 95 theses today and talk about where we have made headway and where we have grave work to do, but what I want you to hear in this time of reformation is Martin Luther did not write these theses, create the Reformation, and then it was over. Rather Martin Luther started a movement of reformation 499 years ago that continues to this day. I also want you to hear and understand that the reformation started by Martin Luther in 1517 will not end in our time. The work of reform will always challenge us to shape the work of the church with our ministry to meet the needs of our neighbor for it is this concept of worshipping God in service to our neighbor where we find some of our most challenging Lutheran work. It is so challenging that Luther himself was not able to fully embrace it. Yes, these statements of reform continue to challenge us to think about how we think about the world around us and what it is that we can do with the gifts we have been given to meet the needs of our neighbor.

It is ironic then, that this challenge to the church in 1517 which should have been not much more than a ripple in the currents of scholastic time, certainly not much more than a poorly attended workshop for public debate about the poor practices of the church in a poverty- and disease-ridden, even Black Plague-ridden world, that so much should have come out of these relatively obscure challenges. Yet, in today’s language, these statements concerning the state of the church and concerns of our faith struck a note with the people of the time and it went VIRAL. It was able to go viral because of the new technology of Luther’s day. You see the printing press had just been invented and the product of writing and the making of books was ready to play a major role in the lives of the Western World.

How appropriate it is then, to look at the technology of Luther’s time and the changes that occurred. Then, when we consider the changes in our technology and our ability to communicate our ideas, we can get a glimpse of the challenges we face in our world.  So it is, in the midst of this time of great change, that we look to Luther’s time for strategies and encouragement to embrace our new technologies to be the church proclaiming the Gospel in entirely new and previously unconsidered ways—to be places of prayer, praise, and thanksgiving at all times and in all places, even in cyber-space. With this technology, we are challenged to find ways to fully appreciate our relationship with God in the relationship with our neighbor.

It is this theology of being in relationship with God in the relationship of our neighbor that is the springboard for the heart of Lutheran thought. It is this concept, this thought—that we gather for the sake of our neighbor—that continues, through the power of the Holy Spirit, to drive us into the world of ministry around us creating safe places for discussing and debating the issues of our time.

It is this gathering of the unclean and unclaimed neighbor that continues to intrigue and challenge me. For this reason, I believe that it is appropriate that we should be hearing the story of Zacchaeus this year. In this story, Jesus demonstrates the radical notion of neighbor and what a society of all people living for the benefit of all might look like. It is a great example of how relationships of mutual appreciation can build up the whole body of Christ. In this story today, we see the beginnings of what it means to be in ministry and service to our neighbor.

Zacchaeus is by all standards a small man, not able to see because of the crowd. Now those of you who are vertically challenged can appreciate how difficult it is to see what is going on when you are packed in in a restricted area. I have to admit that after I got my sight back, this was not usually my problem, but at a youth gathering in Washington D.C. a number of years ago, one of the young women who had attached herself to our group was only about 4 ½ feet tall. At a concert one night, she was swallowed up by the crowd of 20,000 teen agers.

There was no tree to climb, so I invited her to stand on my shoulders. When I invited her to get up there, I had thought it was only going to be for a short time, but once she got up there, she was so excited to be able to see the whole crowd and the band that she refused to come down. She was totally amazed at how the perspective of the world had changed for her and so for the next hour, she danced, and shouted from her new perch.

It is from this place of new perspective, that Zacchaeus encounters Jesus. Unlike my tiny dancer, Zacchaeus comes down when Jesus calls him and the radical service community begins. Seeking Jesus, Zacchaeus discovers that he is being sought. This mutual seeking leads to Jesus going to Zacchaeus’ house where they discuss the needs of the people and the issues of the world.

In the midst of the conversation and hospitality of Zacchaeus’ house we find that Zacchaeus, a chief tax collector and therefore a despised representative of Roman authority, turns out to be a good guy. He gives half of his money to the poor and repays those who have been taken advantage of four times the amount of their grievance. For this, Jesus claims Zacchaeus as a Son of Abraham, lifting him from a place of shame into a place of dignity. Transforming his life in relationship with those around him. Of course, this is where the understanding of neighbor gets difficult.

We witnessed back in Chapter 15, the Scribes and the Pharisees grumbling because Jesus was eating with tax collectors and sinners. Now all of the people are upset because Jesus is no longer eating with any old tax collector, he is identifying himself with the chief tax collector. So we witness that there is challenge to this new “community of neighbor” when it extends beyond our usual associates. When neighbor extends beyond family and associated friends, when neighbor extends to those who rule over us and we find we need to be in relationship with them in a way that honors them, we get uncomfortable. When we are called to interpret our neighbor’s action in the best possible light, even when our neighbor’s actions challenge us, we begin to squirm a little. Yet, it is this uncomfortable place of relationship of understanding that Jesus continues to call us to for Jesus insists on identifying with the sinner. What good news for us!

In this radical community that Jesus is gathering around him, we find ourselves worthy of being his disciples for we too are sinners. We recognize in Jesus’ words of appreciation and hospitality, the dignity that speaks of God’s image being shown in all people since the beginning of creation in Genesis. In Zacchaeus’ hospitality, we witness the life-transforming possibilities when we honor our neighbors and live in service to them.

This radical community of living in service to our neighbor encompasses the rich and the poor, the rulers and the ruled, tax collectors and taxpayers, men and women, slave and free, the saved and the lost. Indeed, God’s kingdom includes all of the God-created people. So, as one young person said to me when I got excited about this subject at catechism one night, “Chill. Deal with it.”

On this Reformation Day, we witness in the Zacchaeus story the beginnings of this radical community, begun for our sake, showing God’s intention for us to live with one another in communities of dignity with love, acceptance, and forgiveness. And yes, even judgment, but the judgment is not there to disparage, demean, or to shun, rather judgment is for correction and instruction in God’s ways that seek to bring all people into communities of hope, peace and reformation.

We come to this Reformation Day, 499 years later, being called to truly look, to truly notice, the people around us, to claim them, to recognize them, to acknowledge their dignity, and to extend to them the radical hospitality that Jesus first teaches us thousands of years ago and which Luther echoes in his reforming theology of life in service to our neighbor. Jesus tells us that he has come seeking to save the lost. Indeed, without our neighbors, we are lost for it is this gift of community relationships that God has given us in creation that calls us always to serve one another in mutual love.

In his booklet, “The Freedom of the Christian,” Luther writes that we are “freed to be Lord of all, servant of none.” and, “servant of all, lord of none.” We are called to claim our place in God’s kingdom while building up the people around us in the body of Christ—to find new ways of being God’s community, that is, new ways of expressing God’s love and caring for one another. In these new ways, we gather in places like this for prayer, praise and thanksgiving.

It is sort of like an Alzheimer unit I visited in the Chicago area one time. At 4 o’clock every afternoon the people became anxious and restless. Many complained that they couldn’t stay any longer, they had to go home. After some time, the care facility installed a revolving door at the end of a hall with only one opening. So, at 4 o’clock those who needed to go home were invited to go through the revolving door. The staff would hold their coats, give them their hats and cheerily say, “See you tomorrow.”

The person would go into the revolving door and come out again facing the other way down the hall and another staff person would say, “How was your day?” Responding to the question, one patient said, “Work was good, but the traffic was hell.” Afterwards, he went to his room, got ready for supper and happily went to bed.

We too have been given a revolving door for the relief of the anxieties and pressures of the world. We come to this place that is set aside, called holy, this place of identity naming and claiming, gathering with one another, telling our stories, hearing God’s word for us, receiving forgiveness and being refreshed at Christ’s table, and then, returning to our places of service, we joyfully welcome the people God sends us until that day when we are joyfully welcomed into the fullness of God’s kingdom.

Continuing in Martin Luther’s Reformation work, may you know Christ’s presence and peace as we walk in Christ’s ways using all that we have been given including our gifts of technology for the sake of proclaiming Christ’s good news to those around us.

typos corrected 10/23/22

Transitions!

From summer’s heat to winter’s snow is Autumn’s time of falling leaves,

Of colors bright and crisp clear mornings

With frost and sparkling dew on yard and field.

We go into the fields to gather in the harvest of what we have planted,

Cutting the last of this season’s hay to feed the animals through the winter.

We pick the fruit from laden trees, bagging, basketing them;

And last tomatoes relishing one more fresh salad.

Transitions!

Now caps and jackets lend their warmth,

Or sweaters knit with hugging yarn

Begin the bundling cocooning time

Of wrapping up against the cold.

Yet still come days when warmth appears,

When sleeves roll up and jackets drape

A shoulder or an arm, or wrap around a waist,

Rather than provide excessive heat.

Transitions!

We celebrate this time of coming from and going to

With sweet, sweat labor, and work well done;

And breathe the musky, attared air of fallen leaves, of fresh cut fields,

Of baking apple crisp and pumpkin pie, of buttered squash,

Thanking God for another year of servanthood

Transitions!

There, But for the Grace of God, Go I Luke 18:9-14

Bradley Hanson in his book, Introduction to Christian Doctrine, says that how we think about God shapes and determines what we think about God. In a like manner, I believe that how we think about prayer shapes and determines what we pray. If prayer is to be a public event, then the language of the prayer may be very formal. We hear these prayers in our worship service in the prayer of the day, the offertory prayer, the prayers of the people, and the prayers contained in the Eucharist. These prayers have various functions, but the language is pretty formal and may use metaphors and similes to call forth emotional and psychological energy for worship. If prayer is about speaking justice, then the language may be challenging and abrasive to the ears of those who hear those pleas while evoking God’s empathy and care. If prayer is our personal conversation with God throughout the day, prayer may sound a lot like how we talk to our friends and may contain utterances of thanks, amazement, cries for help, assistance, spiritual strength, and forgiveness.

How we think about prayer even determines the frequency of praying. If prayer is a public thing, then we may not pray more often than once or twice a month, maybe weekly. If prayer is about crying for justice, depending on how satisfied you are with your life, you may only pray once or twice a year. But if prayer is a conversation with God, then you may be praying constantly even with base and common words. A professor I knew once said that within the most profane oath lies a prayer for help. Again I want to say, how we think of prayer shapes and determines what we pray.

If last week’s text was about the need to pray always without losing heart, then this week’s text is teaching us how to think about prayer and what to pray for. Let us first recognize the relationship between these two parables. Last week we heard about the judge that was not just, that is unrighteous, who does not fear God nor respects people. Yet because he thinks highly of himself, he grants justice (righteousness) to the widow who threatens to make him look bad in public.

This week, in another parable told at the same time, Jesus tells us of a Pharisee who has convinced himself that he is justified (righteous) by his own works, and, because of these great works that he has done, he is more important than the people around him. He regards those who are not like him as literally being nothing, of no value, not worth thinking about. Those other people are so far from him socially that he doesn’t even stand with the other person; he stands by himself. He is so self-satisfied that, when he prays, he begins with thanking God that he is not like those other disgusting people.

The first of the list of people that the Pharisee does not want to be like are thieves. The word in Greek is more than stealing, it carries with it the sense of rapacious people or animals like wolves that tear at the flesh that they eat until they are so utterly sated they may vomit their food and leave it in order to eat more; or, more often, after vomiting their food, they will eat it again. They take and consume because they can, not out of need. Thieving at another level includes people who have more than what they need while others do not have enough. Thievery here is not actively taking something from another, but it includes withholding what our neighbor needs when we have plenty.

The second group of people are described as rogues. The word in Greek literally means unjust or unrighteous. Merchants who don’t use accurate weights for weighing or maybe put their thumb on the scale to add a little weight for a little more money are unrighteous. Bankers who charge interest and especially high interest are unrighteous. Anyone who misrepresents themselves or their work or people who do not care for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the poor are unrighteous.

The third group are adulterers. Biblically speaking adultery is unfaithfulness to one’s spouse, but, in our relationship with God, adultery can mean putting trust in someone or something other than Godself. As a matter of fact, adultery is much more often cited as being the behavior of Israel consorting with other gods and nations than it is used for the relationship between a man and a woman. In terms of last week’s story, it is not revering or fearing God.

The last and lowest category that the Pharisee is thankful he is not like is the tax collector, the one responsible for money flowing from the masses to those in charge. Now in Jesus’ time, the job of being tax collectors was particularly difficult. They represented the government or the ordering body. When the Roman government decided it needed a certain amount of money to be raised in various parts of the empire, that is, the people were to be taxed, the governing bodies of the various parts of the empire would decide where that money was to come from. Then they got a person to collect the taxes from the designated people, but they did not provide for the salary of the tax collector. If the tax collector only collected what was demanded, he might starve so, of course, he had to collect more than what the empire and governing bodies wanted. By collecting the money from the people and delivering it on time to the people above him, peace was maintained in the empire. But, if the flow of tax money was interrupted, the full weight of the Roman government could come down on any given province.

To make taxes more complicated, the Roman government was not the only entity collecting money. The temple also taxed the people through the tithe, which was a temple tax. The temple too believed in a trickle up-economy. Governors also taxed the people for local building projects and urban improvements. Lastly, the land owners taxed the farmers on their produce from the land. Today we would call it share cropping, but it was a tax none-the-less. The assessed tax could be as high as 80%.

Each of the taxes was based on the gross amount that the people made. By taking 10% here and 10% there, by the time the poorest people paid for their food and clothing, there was often not enough to go around. To not pay the tax was to be jailed and die, but paying the tax also often meant that starvation and even death were nearby. Land and home would be sold first. Even children, your spouse, and your very person might need to be sold into slavery in order to pay the money needed. In the sense of an hour glass, the tax collector was the one responsible for the sand flowing up instead of down. No wonder he was detested.

It is not enough to the Pharisee to be thankful for not being like those other no-accounts though; he needs to state why he is better than those others: he fasts twice a week and he gives 10% of all that he acquires. This then is his case of being righteous.

Biblically speaking, however, righteousness is not an individual state. Righteousness depends on the life of the neighbor. If the Pharisee lives in comfort, but his neighbor lives in poverty, then Biblically he cannot be righteous because his comfort is at the expense of someone else. If the Pharisee is living in comfort, and his neighbors are suffering and in poverty, then Biblically he is stealing from them; he has broken his relationship with them. The Pharisee has chosen to serve himself and has not trusted God for what he needs; he has taken from others for his own sake and not served God and his neighbor—he has become a thief, a rogue, an adulterer, and, yes, a tax collector.

He may be fasting twice a week, but we all know that only the well-fed can fast. The poor and the starving call it, “We have no food.” When it comes to taxes, the wealthy may give 10% of what they receive, but when you receive nothing, paying taxes is not possible because there is no money. You might call it, “being broke”.

As last week the unjust judge cared nothing for God, so now we see that the Pharisee does not trust in God. He trusts in himself. He thinks that prayer is about elevating himself over others rather than lifting up the people around him.

We compare the Pharisee to the lowly tax collector who is far off and cannot even bring himself to look up to heaven praying. His prayer is that God would be merciful or have compassion, that is, would suffer with him in the midst of his life. Jesus says this one was made righteous. What makes him righteous or justified is that the tax collector asks or begs God to be in relationship with him. As the widow begs for a relationship of equity, so now the tax collector prays for a relationship of understanding and love with God.

Although we too long for this relationship of understanding and love, not only with God, but with one another, there are times in our lives when we run to the place of the Pharisee. How often have I heard, even said, “There, but by the grace of God, go I!” In saying these words, we separate ourselves from the event even while recognizing that we might have been there or done that ourselves, but, thank God, our actions did not result in calamity—we were not caught. “There, but by the grace of God, go I!” does not mean we are somehow better by our actions, but we believe that a better outcome resulted because God favored us more. Now we look more and more like the Pharisee.

Poverty is not that far away for the average American family which is only two paychecks from not being able to pay the bills. In worship we pray, “We offer with joy and thanksgiving what you have first given us--ourselves, our time, and our possessions, signs of your gracious love.” But when we leave worship, we may separate ourselves from the people who can’t pay their bills anymore, saying, “There, but by the grace of God, go I.” We like to think that God has favored us because of our hard work. We think that we are responsible for creating the world around us as if God’s creative work stopped on the sixth day of creation. In so many ways, we, as a society, say “We’ve got ours, the heck with the rest of you—you who can’t find jobs that pay a living wage, you who are starving in war-torn countries; you whose homes have been taken away by cartels and people who only think about their own wealth and power.

We thank God for our own lives of privilege and wonder at the chances that might lead to us living in those conditions of disaster in Haiti and say, “There, but by the grace of God, go I.” How much harder our prayer lives might be if we, with the tax collector, said, “Have mercy on us sinners, Lord, for we have so much and there are so many that have so little. Help us to share the abundance of your creation. Help us lift up the lowly, and let us be humbled in your presence and the needs of all that you have created good.”

How we think of prayer really does determine and shape what we pray. Being in relationship with God and one another, we pray that all may know God’s presence and that all people will have respect, re-spect, that is, be seen again. We pray that we may engage and honor the people that God has given us to welcome in God’s kingdom on earth, anticipating God’s rule as it is in heaven, with daily bread for all and forgiveness of sins. In this state of God’s abundance and forgiveness, we then are able to forgive as we have been forgiven and are saved from the trial that would judge our works alone. Lord. save us from ourselves, and, in your loving arms, deliver us from evil. Indeed, your kingdom, your power to save, and your glorious resurrection are what will last forever.

It is in this relationship of forgiveness that we know relationship with God and one another that continues to sustain us, and so we rejoice in those words of help and hope:

“In the mercy of almighty God, Jesus Christ was given to die for us, and for Christ’s sake, God forgives us all of our sins. Therefore, by Christ’s authority, I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins; in the relationship of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

There, in the grace of God, we go.

A Vote and a Prayer Luke 18:1-8

It is difficult for me to read this text this week without thinking about the current election process. Don’t jump too far ahead of me here. I admit that as I read the text for the first time last Sunday that I was listening to the presidential debate. I also admit that, when I first read the text, I had just heard the reports of Mr. Trump’s inappropriate and offensive language. But, the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that this story speaks about our whole electoral process this year and that this story’s illustration of the need to pray always and not to lose heart is more important than ever.

Let’s begin by considering four perspectives of this story and the characters in it. First, in the context of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem where prophets are killed and where we know that he will be crucified. Yet, at the time of Luke reporting Jesus’ words, Jesus has not only died on the cross, he is risen from the dead. So although these words were spoken before the crucifixion, the people who are hearing these words from that time until the present already know the ultimate outcome of the story. This means that they and we always hear the story with the knowledge of the resurrection.

Second, when we hear the title of judge, we are likely to think of robes and big desks, of plaintiffs and defendants, of bailiffs, juries, and reporters everywhere (can anyone say CNN?). But during the time of the Gospel of Luke, a judge was anyone who had the power to decide your future. A judge could be anyone who had the power to withhold the means of living from you.

Third, we all know what a widow is. Some of you may be widows or widowers because you have lost a spouse. But, especially in biblical writings, the widow can be an image of any person, group of people, or even a nation who has no one to speak for her/them asking that they be given what is rightfully theirs.

Within the context of the judge and the widow we are told what injustice or unrighteousness looks like. The judge’s injustice or unrighteousness begins with not fearing God and not respecting people. The judge is above it all and is only concerned with his pleasures and how he looks to the world around him.

The widow feels the bite of the judge’s arrogant self-righteousness and comes to the judge seeking vindication. Indeed, she addresses the case against her adversary again and again. Like a mosquito in the night that continues to whine around your ear evading the impatient and exasperating slap, this widow continues to come praying (begging) for what is rightfully hers. Note that it is not the presence of the widow that is so annoying; it is her continuing prayer for justice that concerns the judge.

Lastly, there is the character of the inner voice which first appeared in ch. 12 in the story of the rich man and the abundant harvest. Later we heard the words of the inner voice in the lazy steward, the prodigal son, the unrighteous manager, and now in the unjust judge.

The character of the inner voice has changed through the stories. In the first, the inner voice is greedy and wants to build bigger barns. In the second, it encourages the servant to abuse his power so others suffer with beatings. The inner voice of the prodigal son convinces him that it is better to ask for mercy than to live outside a loving relationship. The unrighteous manager discovers he can experience welcome in the community around him by relieving the debts of the people when he loses his job.

Now the inner voice instructs the unjust judge to be just even if it is only for appearance’s sake. The widow’s constant praying for justice is making the judge look bad. Politically, she is giving him a black eye.

In each of these stories, the inner voice points us in the direction of what it might mean to live in a realized kingdom of God’s justice even though the characters are not fully changed. Each story speaks of outcomes based on self-interest while the hope is for self-giving for the sake of the world. We will hear from this inner voice one more time before the end of our liturgical year for our own instruction. We will see the result of the inner voice teachings on the cross when a bandit prays to be remembered in Christ’s resurrection world.

Jerusalem, judge, widow, inner voice—let us think about this story in light of what is going on today. Clearly we have candidates who may have some fear of God, but that is questionable at times, and clearly there seems to be little respect for the people. Our candidate judges are much more concerned with trying to sanitize their pasts, explain their miscreant ways, and point fingers at one another claiming that the other is unfit or, could we say, unjust?

Little time is being spent on some of the most pressing concerns of the day. Will we have jobs that pay us enough to live on? Is medical care available to all when they need it? Can we find a way to live with one another without killing each other? Does everything have to be based on winning, or is there a way for us as a nation to recognize God’s image in one another? Can we see, yes see, in a way that recognizes the value of all of God’s people, finding ways of peace, rather than constantly maneuvering for more power? Is there room in our lives to recognize that this world is God’s good creation and that we need to stop polluting and destroying it? Can we perfect the programming of the driverless car so that I can go where I want when I want? (Oops, that last one was my bad.) Is there yet time to find ways of distributing the wealth and abundance of this world in a way that does not create greater chasms between the rich man and the Lazaruses of the world?

The answers to all of these questions will only come through persistent, constant praying. I am convinced that today we are the widow in this story, and justice will only be given if we continue to pray against the powers of injustice. -

Our candidates claim that they want to talk about the issues of the day, yet when the opportunity for discussing their programs comes, each one points to the inadequacies of the other candidate, claiming that the other person’s policies will destroy our economy or make a complete disaster of our world without getting around to what they propose. It is good and worthwhile to know what each of them has done in the past, but to live in the past is to die.

I am much more interested in what they want to do in the future. I would really like to know what their dream for the United States is. Because they seem to be unable to lay out their proposals, I wonder whether these candidates have a sustainable dream that extends beyond November 8.

It is going to be up to us, the electorate, the widows, to actively pray for justice. We must raise our voices now, and keep raising them, in our local governments, in our state legislatures, and in the halls of congress. Created in God’s image, we know what it means to be just. We know what it means to be righteous before the Lord. We know that justice begins with fearing, that is having a passionate reverence for, God and respecting God’s people. We must see each other as equals and recognize the needs of all of God’s people as our own needs. We must acknowledge that we are broken and incomplete without their presence in our lives.

As we pray for justice, we ask for ways to bring clean water to the people of Flint, Michigan; we ask for meaningful employment that pays enough to support a family of coal miners and steel workers in Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia; we ask for fair prices for milk from our cows and the produce from our fields; we ask that those who are without hope in Chicago may find ways of living in peace with one another instead of shooting each other. Praying for justice means that we need to raise our voices in prayer again and again, begging for justice and an end to racism, sexism, able-ism, and classism whenever they appear.

When we call for justice, we aren’t asking just for me, just for you, but for each person in the earth—for refugees who are fleeing from war torn countries like Afghanistan, Syria, Yemen, and Columbia for their lives; for immigrants trying for a better life; for people living with the mess we have made of our air and our waters everywhere.

We need to pray loudly and often without losing heart. We need to remember that God’s justice is done quickly in ways that we do not understand—opening the sea for God’s people to safely pass when fleeing oppressive Egypt, giving laws to create order in the chaotic wilderness-times of our lives, raising up foreign leaders like Cyrus to restore the city of peace (Jerusalem), and making us right with God through the cross and empty tomb.

When the Pharisees asked Jesus when the kingdom of God was coming, he told them that the kingdom of God is not coming, it is here. It is among you. He says that, if justice will be known, we need to do something about it. We must pray, understanding that prayer is not only cries to God for help in times of trouble, but actions that raise people up from the toxic places of open despair and hopeless quiet desperation, that is, the place where they have lost heart. In prayer, we can lift ourselves and those who are trapped in those spiritless places of lost heart into communal lives of ministry, walking together shoulder-to-shoulder and heart-to-heart, trusting in God’s will being done on earth as in heaven.

So how do we begin praying? Prayer begins with listening. Listen to God’s calling, that is heed or fear God. Listen to the people around you, that is respect them and recognize the value of their needs. Then, having listened, we too can speak, implore, and beg. We can join with those who are already speaking and acting in faith, trusting in God’s continued active presence in history.

This year, your prayer may be in the vote you cast on November 8. It can be a statement of trust that God continues to work in history through good leaders and bad. Without losing heart, our prayer this year may be that we won’t have to overwork God’s labor of grace and forgiveness. So I urge you to listen to God’s calling to honor the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the poor; listen to your heart and the people around you, and then, prayerfully vote for our future and the future welfare of God’s people in a way that will be faithful when the Son of man comes.

The good news is that whether or not the son of man finds faith on earth, we know that he is coming. Let us prepare him room and make straight his way.

The Unjust Judge Luke 18:1-8

Reading Luke is like reading a rather complex mathematical formula.  The book's impact is cumulative and highly intertextual.  Not only does this book depend on itself, but it also depends on the whole faith history of Judaism.  This "orderly account" which Luke sets forth is only orderly in the sense that he begins with the story of John the baptist, relates John to Jesus and then develops the story of their lives and ministry until each is killed and Jesus rises from the dead.  In the midst of all of this action the world gets turned upside-down.  This can hardly be called orderly.  On the other hand, it is a model for the praxis of faith.  Praxis describes the circular traffic that is always going on between theory and action.

Action forces me to look at theory again. (Is how I perceive the world before I acted the way the world really is?  Well, no, not quite; because of my action, I now see the world differently and must act differently as a result.)  And theory forces me to look at action again.  (Am I acting in the most effective manner, the world being the way I now perceive it?  Well, no, not quite, so because of a modified theory I must now act differently and see the world differently as a result.) 

This is a never-ending process. It is my participation in a process of seeking to transform society.  Because it is not merely cerebral but action-oriented as well, some are insisting (in a jaw-breaking distinction) that the Christian's task is not "ortho-doxy," i.e. right thinking but "ortho-praxis," i.e., the right combination of thinking and doing. To take praxis seriously means, ... that we know the truth in a different way.¹

I would assert that it is this praxis which Luke forces his reader to consider.  He does this in many different ways, but in the context of the "Unjust Judge," Luke uses at least five perspectives to convey his message.  (1) Luke depends on earlier themes of this narrative, prayer, the rich and poor, and honor vs shame.  (2) Luke depends on the authority of the Old Testament (torah), in order to direct ethical behavior.  (3) Luke depends on earlier literary tradition (interior monologue) to show the inner crisis of the Judge.  (4) Luke depends on earlier myth to lend substance to his story.  (5) Luke depends on the context of his time to demonstrate that action is the proof of the work of the Holy Spirit.

So it is that this section begins by considering the need to pray at all times.  This is the eleventh time which Luke mentions prayer, and the import of this concern surrounds the activity of the Holy Spirit and our relationship with God. 

"Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3:21-22 NRSV) 

Luke also intends for us to remember,

"He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.  Give us each day our daily bread.  And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial." (Luke 11:2-4 NRSV) 

But our relationship with God is only part of our prayer life.  Luke also calls us to remember our relationship with one another. 

... "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. "Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. "Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.

"Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

"But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. (Luke 6:20-28 NRSV)

No wonder we are to pray always.  Through our prayers the Holy Spirit is active in our lives, keeping us right with God and our neighbors.  This theme is so important to Luke that prayer is mentioned thirty-four times in Luke/Acts.  This represents more than forty per cent of the passages in all of the New Testament. 

With this in mind, we are able to move into the parable itself.  We are presented with a judge and a widow--two people of different classes.  The judge at least had power to decide the outcome of other people's lives.  In the context of Luke, I believe that it can also be assumed that the judge was wealthy.  The widow, however, had no power.  If she had had any power, she would not have had to repeatedly come before the judge to ask for help.  She was defenseless.  In the context of Luke, I believe it is also safe to assume that she was poor.  In this poverty it is also likely that she was alienated from the community and therefore can be thought of as the alien, reminding the reader of texts like Ex.22:22-23, Deut.24:19-21, and Deut. 27:19.  In this parable the alien and the widow come together in one person recalling to Luke's audience and us the correct ethical and pious action.  But is that all Luke intends?

As Luke 7:11-17 recalled 1 Kings 17: 8-24, it seems possible that this parable recalls 2 Samuel 14:1-24.  This could indicate that the widow is someone other than a "true" widow.  Indeed, the possibility exists that the widow in this case might not even be a person but persons.  For "widow" at the time of Luke was used in the metaphoric sense as well.  (A city stripped of its inhabitants and riches is represented under the figure of a widow.)² 

In this light, the designation of a certain or particular city might point to Jerusalem.  As a pre-resurrection image, this would reflect the attitude of the people of Israel who lived under the heel of the Roman Government.  As a post-resurrection story, this speaks to the people concerning the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E..  In either case, the people who constitute the majority of the population would be seen as impoverished and without a voice.  They would need someone to act on their behalf.

But this judge tarries in his response.  He does not fear God nor does he have regard for people.  We see through the use of interior monologue that he changes his mind³. 

Sellew points out that Luke is not the only Biblical author to use this device, but he is the most accomplished, for he uses it six times (Luke 12: 16-20, 12: 42-46, 15: 11-32, 16: 1-8a, 18: 2-5, and 20: 9-16).  "When faced with a moment of decision, usually in a moral crisis, the central characters...address themselves through the use of...interior monologue."  In this "private interior debate, the ‘soul’ disputes with itself, but its arguments are broadcast through Jesus' special insight.  The true feelings and inner workings of the characters within these stories are made transparent, not only to the reader but to Luke's other characters as well...."⁴

So it is that this judge faces a "moment of decision."  He must decide whether or not to act ethically.  Ultimately, the decision is in favor of the widow because he knows that she will continue to appear praying for aid.  Behind this reasoning lies the theme of honor and shame.  If this widow continues her importunity, she will draw attention to the fact that this judge is not acting.  Although this judge does not have regard for people, he does have regard for himself and would most likely dislike the shame he would have to face if he did not act justly. 

The resultant activity creates a new praxis.  For the widow in her praying has changed the balance of power.  The once powerless has now to some degree become powerful.  The judge in acting has recognized the need for action and is now considered just.  He who has no regard for people acts with regard for people. 

So we begin to discern a content to praxis, although it is not a content neatly determined in advance; it will grow out of, respond to, condition and be conditioned by, the situation.  But since it is praxis committed to the poor and to the transformation of the world, undertaken from "the view from below," we can describe it, in the precise technical meaning of the word, as subversive action.  Vertir means "to overthrow, to turn upside down." The Christians described in Acts 17:6 fit this very well:  "Those who have turned the world upside down" is the way they were pictured.  But from what stance does one turn the world upside down?  There are two possibilities: one would be super-version, up-ending or turning the world over "from above," for the benefit of the affluent and the powerful; the other possibility would be sub-version, turning the world upside down "from below," for the benefit of the poor and powerless.  Christian praxis is clearly sub-version, transformation "from below," on behalf of, but finally by, "the wretched of the earth," the poor and dispossessed.⁵

This then is the result of sub-version and super-version.  Indeed, there is transformation.  In the midst of this transformation one encounters con-version.  Through prayer, the Holy Spirit enters into this situation creating justice by turning the world upside down.  But is this all that Luke intends us to look at? 

Luke continues to hold our attention for yet, behind the scenes of even this little story, lies the mythic history of both Jew and Greek.  For the Greek audience the entire history of their pantheon lies buried in this text.  A world filled with capricious gods who act when they want and for whom they want depending on how the mood strikes them.  These too are the judges of their past who feared neither one another nor humanity.  One can almost see the Greek audience nodding their heads knowingly when hearing of this unjust judge.  Indeed, the Greeks through their drama, poetry and novel have made the capricious god an art form.⁶

For the Jews, their history is riddled with crying out to the Lord, and God seeming to not hear.  This is the cry of the people in the wilderness, the Babylonian Exile, throughout the prophets, and it is the attitude of the people of Israel at the time of Christ when they prayed for the messiah.  If the parallel story recalls us to 2 Samuel 14:1-24, there is even a certain link between the estranged Absalom and Jesus because they are both heirs to the kingdom.  "For the king will hear, and deliver his servant from the hand of the man who would cut both me and my son off from the heritage of God." (2 Samuel14:16 NRSV)

Here the parable reminds us that although there are parallels to mythic and historic events, this is a judge who is human.  "For he feared neither God nor person."  Luke insists that in this case the judge is subject to judgment. 

When the transforming act is finished, when the widow has been defended, Luke's Jesus adds, " Will the Lord not truly make justice (for all parties) for the chosen (those who obtain salvation through Christ) who are crying out to God day and night, and will God cause them to suffer long?  8.  I say to you, God makes justice quickly." 

Indeed, the one telling the story is God.  We, the outside observers, know this and smile, for justice could not be quicker than having the one who is willing to sacrifice himself for the world right in front of you.  How is it that anyone could possibly miss what is happening?  The prayers of the people have been heard, and Jesus is there as the answer. 

Yet obviously the people do miss the import of the story.  Jesus will be honored as a mock-king in just a short time.  He will be tried as a blasphemer and a traitor and crucified as a result.  The cry of the oppressed will become the cry of the oppressor, and Jesus will be the one without a voice.

How poignant the last line of this parable becomes when it asks, "Yet when the son of man comes will he find faith on earth?"  (Luke 18:8b).  Indeed, where is this faith to be found?

It is the mark of Luke's literary skill which points us back to the very beginning of the parable.  "He told a parable to them concerning the need for them to pray at all times and not to be utterly spiritless." 

In order to obtain the Spirit, one must always pray.  If one is filled with the spirit, one must act.  When we act justly, we act either sub-versively or super-versively.  In turning over the world we experience con-version which is the work of the Holy Spirit.  The work of the Holy Spirit transforms the world so that we must look at the world anew and pray, as the widow prays, constantly coming before the judges of the world who do not want to hear. 

This then is "ortho-praxis"--a theory/action which throws us headlong into the heart of racial, ethnic and class struggle. We do not go there because we want to, but because we must.  If we are to pray and be spirit-filled, we will be directed even as the Unjust Judge was directed. 

Will there be faith on earth when the Son of Man comes?  I believe that Luke says yes.  It may not be the kind of faith that we would want, but it will be the faith which the Spirit imparts. 

¹ Robert McAfee Brown, Theology in a New Key, (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1978), p. 71

² Logos Bible Study Software, Strong's lexicon based on Thayer's lexicon and Smith's Bible Dictionary, (Oak Harbor WA. Logos Research Systems Inc. 1992,

³ Phillip Sellew, Interior Monologue as a narrative device in the Parables of Luke, J.B.L. III/2,  pp. 239-253

⁴. Ibid. p. 239

⁵. Brown, New Key, p. 72, citing Gregory Baum in Theology in the Americas, ed. Sergio Torres and John Eagleson (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1976)

⁶. Consider the Marriage of Psyche and the Trials of Hercules as only two examples.