Jesus said: There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. Luke 16:19-21

What do you do when someone comes across your path who asks you for money – someone who is begging on the street, or at the train station or the subway, or some other place you go to? And how does it make you feel when you are approached in this way? These are questions we were discussing in our Bible study group this past week. And there were a variety of answers: one person has invited a street person into a nearby coffee shop and paid for their meal; someone else carries a zip-lock bag with a warm hat or scarf, a bar of soap, and several granola bars to distribute as the need arises; and others of us were not sure we have ever been in a place where we have been pan-handled for money.

It also got us into a discussion of why there are people living on the street or very close to that in the first place – and we came up with lots of reasons, often intertwined and causing a cascading fall into destitution, or pretty close to it. Some of those reasons can be illness or injury, family troubles, mental illness, lack of education, lack of job opportunity, domestic violence, a business failure – just for starters; and then substance abuse and addiction on top of that creates a whole new level of difficulty. Add to all that the very small number of inpatient recovery programs and supervised shelters, and the wait for available beds and funds, even for people who want to get help….and the problem is overwhelming. And that can leave even people of good will and intentions feeling helpless and fearful. When we are feeling like that, it can be easier to turn away, easier not to see. I’m sure we’ve all been in that place.

And then this morning we hear the story that Jesus was telling to the Pharisees when a group of them mocked Jesus for his teaching about not being able to serve both God and wealth, which we heard last week. The Pharisees, after all, were coming from the mind-set that the land (and the wealth that came from it) was a blessing from God and a sign that they were faithful to Torah – the Jewish law for living, the Hebrew Scriptures. So for them, wealth was conflated with serving God, and if there were poor people in the world – certainly in ancient Palestine: Judea and Galilee – it was a sign that those folks weren’t right with God, that their condition in life was their own fault.

So Jesus tells this parable about a man named Lazarus (not to be confused with Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary of Bethany, whom Jesus raised from the dead) who was poverty-stricken, and sick, and sat at the gate of a wealthy man, hoping for some food, or assistance, whatever the man might be able to spare in his direction. But the rich man would not see him, and did nothing. Eventually, Jesus says, both men died, and Lazarus went to be with Abraham, the father of his people, in a place of blessedness and comfort, while the rich man was consigned to the torments of Hades.

It is important for us to be clear that Jesus is not telling this story to describe what heaven or hell is like, or what happens after death. Nor is this story saying that poor people will get their reward in heaven, and so they just need to be patient and wait to die.
On one level, this parable is a cautionary tale, similar to “A Christmas Carol”, by Charles Dickens. The rich man, once in Hades, realizes his mistake and asks for relief; or barring that, at least mercy for his siblings who are still living, that they might learn from his example. In Dicken’s’ story, Scrooge goes through a life review, opens up his places of personal pain and hurt so that he is then capable of seeing the suffering of others, and comes to a place of repentence, and personal change and transformation. Certainly, Jesus wants each of us to hear that our actions and decisions in this life affect our spiritual condition, and the way we live faithfully on Christ’s behalf – or not.

But if we only understand “A Christmas Carol” as personal redemption, we will have missed Dickens’ point. He describes very clearly and directly the social evils of his day – their causes and consequences, the milieu in which Victorian England lived. It was a commentary on society as a whole. In the same way, Jesus uses this parable to address conditions among his own people in their own place and time. In what was largely a peasant society, begging in the street was an everyday occurrence.

But Jesus doesn’t just leave it there. In response to the Pharisees alluding to the Scriptural promises of God’s blessings of land and prosperity, Jesus wraps the story in such a way as to remind them that God’s Law also requires compassion and acts of mercy towards the poor and the suffering and the stranger. He puts these words in the mouth of the rich man and Abraham:
“Father, I beg you to send [Lazarus] to my father's house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” He said, "No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” In other words, Jesus is saying, if you hold the Scriptures – the Law and the prophets – in such high esteem and you won’t take them seriously and live by what they say, they you will never be convinced by something outside of them that God does.

Woah! I don’t know about you, but I am always brought up short by Luke’s very sharp drawing of what Jesus has to say. So what do we do with this story in our own context, we who seek to be faithful followers of Jesus? I can give you one example, at least.

This past Wednesday morning, about a dozen volunteers from All Saints’ went to Shop-Rite in Stirling to bag groceries as part of Shop-Rite’s Partners in Caring program. Because Shop-Rite supports our food pantry by putting funds on our account at the Community Food Bank, they invited us to come and help them publicize their efforts to alleviate hunger and food insecurity during Hunger Awareness month. Our volunteers had some really interesting experiences: people who didn’t want help, people who were grateful for the help; some who gave very generously to the collection cans – twice, some who asked how there could possibly be hungry people in America when the use of food stamps in our country is so high – and didn’t really want to hear answer. That’s a very good question, and it has multiple, complex answers.

But we have to start by asking questions right here in our own communities, and being open – maybe even surprised or shocked – by the answers that come. Here is something I have learned in the last six months. There are at least 25 families in the Long Hill Township school system who qualify for the federal free or reduced lunch program. However, those children only get free milk, because our schools don’t have cafeterias and don’t serve lunch. So even though those families qualify for that benefit, there is no lunch to be had, adding to the daily challenge these families have to feed, clothe, educate and raise their children.

Why are they in this situation in the first place? I’m sure there are many, many reasons – a divorce, a death, an illness, a job loss, a legal difficulty, an unexpected pregnancy – each reason as individual as the family. And these are just the folks who have kids in the school system and who have filled out the paperwork. There surely are others.

We are doing what we can to connect with these families, but it is not easy. There is a lot of shame connected to poverty and hunger, people in communities like ours don’t want to come forward and ask for help, they don’t want others to know that they are struggling. They don’t want their children to have the stigma of financial difficulty.

So what can we do, as Jesus’ followers, as God’s People led by the Holy Spirit? We can ask questions, we can educate ourselves about the facts of hunger, homelessness, and poverty. The website of Feeding America is a good place to start. We can read the Gospels deeply and meditatively, open to what Jesus has to say. And we can pray, and ask God to lead us in wisdom and compassion for this world he has made, and then act – in ways small or large, as the Spirit leads us.

Let us pray.
Lord Christ, you call us from death into life in so many ways – spiritual and temporal. Give us the strength and courage to follow you in being life-givers to those who share this world with us. We ask this in your name. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
September 25, 2016

Jesus said: No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth." Luke 16:13

Do any of you find this Gospel reading confusing? If you do, you are in good company! It almost seems like Jesus is commending dishonesty and sharp business practice. And yet there’s that last bit about not being able to have two masters, about not serving God and wealth. What are we to make of all this?

Part of the difficulty is that Jesus is using two different forms of speech here. The biggest part of the passage is a parable about a wealthy employer and his manager, his steward. The last part of the passage is some direct teaching, some comments about faithfulness, loyalty, and about money. So you think the passage is going along in one direction, and then Jesus changes is up on you!

So let’s think about the parable for a moment. A wealthy man has a manager who is in charge of his estate – real and financial. The manager has been siphoning off funds, embezzling – and he eventually gets caught. But before he actually gets fired he cuts a deal with some of the master’s debtors, reducing their bills. He does this, of course, to curry favor with these debtors, maybe grease his way into a new job after he is let go. But there is another side to it, as well, and to understand it you need to know a little bit about first century Jewish Law.

The Law (which governed all aspects of life – spiritual and civic) forbade the charging of any interest on loans; it’s what was called usury. Now that didn’t mean it didn’t happen, and one way of hiding those interest charges from the public eye was to ask for payment in grain or olive oil, rather than cash. It was harder to track, and easier to pay because grain and olive oil were plenteous commodities. So most likely the deal the manager struck with the debtors was that he was erasing the interest from their payments. Imagine if you could remove the interest from your mortgage or your credit card bill or your car payment; that would be a huge help!

And when the employer found out what the manager had done, he applauded him; said (in effect) “I’ve got to hand it to you – that was a really shrewd deal.” He said this because the manager was building up good will with the debtors who might be able to help him network to a new job, and doing it at the master’s expense, while simultaneously tying his hands. Because if it all came out, the employer’s own law-breaking, his usury, would be exposed. So here we have embezzlement, cooking the books, and a form of blackmail. And the master praised the steward. That doesn’t mean that Jesus was commending any of what just happened. But what he was commending was the manager’s ability to think on his feet, to be shrewd about his situation and the world around him, quick to size things up and take action. Sometimes the “children of light” don’t cope as well with the crises of the world and do the “children of this age,” Jesus says. To his hearers, this would have meant the Jews who were struggling with Roman occupation and bitter contest for political and military control over their own destiny. He’s telling them that they need to wise up, pay attention to the real situation, and be prepared to act quickly and shrewdly in the face of mounting tension and danger. Of course we know that forty years later, the Roman army razed the city of Jerusalem and the Temple as a final act of power and control over the Jews.

And that’s not all jut ancient history. There’s something in that for us, as well. As Christians we do not serve God and ourselves and the world well if we retreat into a pleasant place of sitting quietly until all the problems and crises of the world go by, trusting that God will work everything out. Of course, God does have his arms around everything, and all shall be well, to quote Julian of Norwich, in the long run. But that run can be very long, with a lot of damage and difficulty in the course of it; and part of our work for the Kingdom of God is to do all we can, with God’s help, in the here and now to be God’s agents of light, peace, justice, goodness, truth, and love – but we have to be wise, have our wits about us, not be caught off-guard by the ways of the world, nor become immune to them.

At the end of the passage Jesus does have some direct things to say about our relationship with money – about honesty and faithfulness in the small things, as well as the big things; and about serving only one master: God or wealth; the old-fashioned word was mammon – the greedy pursuit of wealth at all costs.

Maybe this seems like an awkward time to be hearing and thinking about this passage, on this Sunday when we are set to announce the results of yesterday’s Rummage Sale, but let’s think about the Sale (and everything that leads up to it) for a moment. To start with, Kimberly’s first rule of rummage is: “No one gets hurt.” Our concern is always for everyone’s physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. Then, we know well that the Rummage Sale is an event that provides a welcome and a service to our neighbors and visitors, as well as being an agent of community building for ourselves. Having a party on our front lawn every September to which everyone is invited – whether they buy or not – is part of who we are as God’s people. In fact, yesterday some of our guests were from a group home for developmentally disabled adults here in town. Stopping by the Sale was part of their outing for the day. They seemed to enjoy looking at all the rummage, talking with some parishioners, and I know they enjoyed the coffee at the bake sale table! One of the residents had to be firmly steered away by his supervisor. She said,” He’ll stand here and drink your coffee all day, if you let him!” Finally, the funds that we raise at the Sale are for the mission of the parish – the work God calls us to do and be: as a place of worship, prayer, community, service to others, a place to refuel before you go out into your work week - doing God’s work wherever you are; being a place of fellowship and joy.

This morning we have a baptism: Quinn Beyer will be baptized shortly; and in baptism we are always reminded who is the Master, our Master, the One we follow, and trust, and try to emulate: Jesus. There is a question in the baptismal liturgy, one of the affirmations that Quinn’s parents and godparents will make on her behalf, and which was said either by or for each one of us: “Do you promise to follow and obey [Jesus] as your Lord?” and the answer is “I do.” That means that our ethical choices, our behavior, our work, the way we conduct ourselves in business and friendship, and family, as parents and neighbors all should be a reflection of Jesus – his words, his work, and his life: “Love God; love your neighbor as yourself.” That is what the baptized life is about, following Jesus as Lord and Master; becoming his apprentices; committing ourselves anew each day to serving the Lord as best as we are able, with God’s help.

“Do you promise to follow and obey [Jesus] as your Lord?” and all God’s children say: “I do.” Amen.Victoria Geer McGrath

All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 18, 2016

Jesus said: What woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, "Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.” Luke 15:8-9
 
Fifteen years ago tomorrow, on September 12th I sat down with my clergy colleagues, as we did every Wednesday morning, to pray together, to read over the lessons for the coming Sunday, to share insights about the Scriptures, and ideas about preaching. But of course, this Wednesday was different: we were all still in shock over the attacks the day before; we all had friends, neighbors, parishioners who had not returned home and whose death was presumed. Because we were in Bergen county we were able to hear the fighter planes that patrolled the airspace over the George Washington Bridge – so eerie in the otherwise empty skies.
 
We wondered how in God’s Name – literally – could we get up on Sunday and preach. What in the world would we say? And then we looked at the lessons, the very same ones in front of us this morning, and I was stunned by the passage from Jeremiah. It seemed as though the prophet was describing the scene in lower Manhattan: “I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void; and to the heavens, and they had no light. I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking, and all the hills moved to and fro. I looked, and lo, there was no one at all, and all the birds of the air had fled. I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert, and all its cities were laid in ruins.” It was as though God was speaking to us directly about what had happened, about the destruction, about that suspension of reality that we were living through and continued to live through in the days and weeks following.
 
In those weeks so many searched and hoped for news of friends and loved ones. In those weeks we wondered when and if New York would be able to pick up the pieces. In those weeks, we took stock of ourselves and our society and wondered what had been lost, and we struggled valiantly not to be overcome by fear, by hatred, by an aversion to the stranger and the other – because that would mean the terrorists had won, and evil had triumphed. Do not be overcome by evil, St. Paul writes, but overcome evil with good (Romans 12:25).
 
So here we are, fifteen years later, with those same passages from Jeremiah and from Luke: the Parable of the Lost Sheep, and the Parable of the Lost Coin. Whether we are remembering what happened on 9/11, or thinking about some other anguish elsewhere in the world – Syria being the most prominent recent example – or we have in mind some personal situation that threatens to undo us – Jeremiah captures the sense of destruction and desolation, the loss of hope and purpose and reason.
 
And then we put the Gospel reading alongside Jeremiah. The two parables are word paintings, pictures, stories Jesus tells about what God is like. God is like a shepherd who goes searching for that one sheep who has wandered away and become lost, gotten into trouble, hanging by a thread. He risks leaving all the rest of the sheep to go after this one – not because it is special, or more beloved, but just because that is the way God is. God is the Shepherd who searches for the lost, who knows the flock – the People of God, the Beloved Community – will not be whole without all the sheep.
 
God is also like a woman, Jesus says, who has ten coins; maybe they are her life savings, her nest egg, her dowry. One goes missing. She searches relentlessly – spending precious resources to light an oil lamp in the daytime, sweeping every nook and cranny – until she finds the lost coin. And then she calls her neighbors together for a party, to celebrate with her, so that they could share in her joy and relief. That which was lost has been found.
 
That is what God is like: searching relentlessly, unstintingly, pursuing us, seeking us when we are lost and out of touch, and cut off from love and wisdom and goodness. And God rejoices and throws a party; all the saints and angels in heaven are invited – God doesn’t want to have this party alone! What had been lost has now been found, and is safe in God’s keeping.
 
You might think that if we have been lost spiritually, morally, in terms of human decency and relationships, that when we are found by God, when we come to our senses and turn around (the real meaning of repentence) that we’d just try to slink back home, tail between our legs, hoping that God and everyone else wouldn’t notice too much, or at least not say anything. The very next section in Luke chapter 15 is the Parable of the Prodigal Son – and that’s exactly what he tries to do – but God (the father in that parable) will have none of it. There is a party, a celebration.
 
The people in Twelve Step groups like Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous know something about being lost…and being found. And they know how to celebrate! The anniversary of a person’s sobriety is celebrated by the group at thirty days, at ninety days, at six months, at nine months, at a year, at eighteen months, and every year after that, because they know the difference between being lost and being found - all the difference in the world.
 
We all have ways that we get lost – in greed, in willful ignorance, in fear, in rigidity, in manipulating others, in dishonesties large or small, in shutting down our feelings, in viewing life through a lens of criticism and judgementalism, in loneliness or pain or grief. And in our lostness, God does come and search for us – tirelessly, relentlessly, sometimes camping out on our door step just waiting for us to open the door a crack, and let the light of his love seep in.
 
On this fifteenth anniversary of September 11, there are still many scars; there are wounds that may never fully heal; there are new tragedies and terrors that continue to take place in our personal lives and throughout the world; there is always the temptation to give into hatred, fear, and revenge. But there is also this: God loves us like that shepherd searching for the lost sheep. God loves us like that woman who searched for her lost coin. And we are here – able to find and be found by God – today, and every day, and for all eternity. That is worth celebrating, indeed.
 
God is good/All the time; all the time/God is good.
God is good/All the time; all the time/God is good.
God is good/All the time; all the time/God is good. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Episcopal Church
Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 11, 2016

*Photo from National Geographic

Jesus said: 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
 
This summer I’ve been going to an exercise class at the YMCA that combines cardio and strength training; I’ve tried to go twice a week – three time when I can. I’ve enjoyed the class, and I can tell that it’s been helpful in getting more fit. But it’s meant a time commitment, even though a small one. I’ve had to keep an eye on my schedule.
 
Now a friend who is a fitness coach has invited me to be part of an on-line challenge group that she is hosting, and I have signed up. So for three weeks, starting tomorrow, I’ll be doing a thirty-minute work-out video every day, planning out my meals, and checking in with my coach and the challenge group. For me, that means I’ll need to get up about forty-five minutes earlier most mornings to get these work outs in. It seems a little daunting, I have to say, but I know it will be a good step to becoming more fit and staying healthy, which is a good priority.

Our Gospel reading this morning is all about priorities, and Luke puts it in the most stringent language – as he often does. In fact, Jesus says: 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 (NRSV). Yikes! Harsh words. Another translation puts it slightly differently, but still worded strongly: Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters—yes, even one’s own self!—can’t be my disciple. Anyone who won’t shoulder his own cross and follow behind me can’t be my disciple (TM). How are we to understand this? How does it apply to us as we follow Jesus in our own lives?

When we decide to make something a priority, that means we give it importance, a weighty matter for us, we carve out time and energy for it. That doesn’t mean we always succeed, but it means we keep it in focus, keep coming back to it, we don’t let other things crowd out our priority and choke it off. Certainly that is true with fitness. If you’ve ever had a health scare, and your doctor has said that you need to make changes in your habits and physical well-being, you know you need to do it, or be prepared to pay the health consequences. Similarly, if you have learned to play an instrument well, you have discovered that you can’t just sit down a play a piece with beauty and confidence on the first try – even if you already read music. It takes many hours of playing scales, and agility exercises, and technique practice, as well as learning the piece itself so that it begins to inhabit your body and soul. You’ve made your music practice a priority.

The same is true with faith, with following Jesus, being a disciple, living the baptized life. Faith is a priority, and Jesus is asking us to make it THE priority, the foundation and cornerstone on which everything else is built. Our relationship with God and the practical day-to-day living of it is what being a Christian is all about. It’s so easy – once we’ve started – to get distracted, tired, discouraged, overwhelmed, wander away. How many of you know that construction site in the Meadowlands called the American Dream? It is intended to be a mall and entertainment center. But it has been under construction for thirteen years. The ownership keeps changing, funding for the project keeps running out, and meanwhile the shell of the complex just sits there, rusting in full view of the Turnpike. Well, sometimes our spiritual lives can be like that construction project: we get started, but then something else comes along that absorbs our loyalty, we stop putting time and effort into it, we limp along on a few memes we come across on Facebook or half-remembered Sunday School lessons from childhood, and our relationship with God stalls out.

In the last twenty years or so the word “spirituality” has come into common use. At its best, the word tries to embody the way we experience God, as opposed to a dry knowing about God. Spirituality has always been a part of the Biblical and Christian record – that’s why the Psalms speak so deeply to us, and why various Christian writers describe different approaches to prayer, and worship, and Scripture reading. Some approaches hit home and resonate with some people and not with others. But in recent years, the word “spirituality” has sometimes become disconnected from anything larger than me, myself, and I; and we fall into the trap of thinking that God is there only to make us feel better, to get us through the rough times, to attend to our own personal wants and needs and those of our families.

That’s part of what Jesus’s hyperbolic words about “hating” family members and even our own lives is about. God does not want us to hate anyone or any part of his creation. Our families are one of God’s gifts to us, our life is God’s gift to us. But we musn’t mistake the gift for the Giver. We can’t put anything in God’s place of ultimate priority and loyalty – not even or families, as difficult as that may seem. There always has to be a place in our heart, and mind, and energy, and schedule for God and God’s concerns – some time for learning and growth, for prayer, for worship, for loving service.

But there’s another aspect to being a disciple that Jesus touches on here, which we could spend a great deal of time on, and which is important not to lose sight of. When Jesus speaks of carrying the Cross and following him, he is not speaking about the burdens and difficulties that naturally come in any life. We need to remember that in the first century, crucifixion was a form of torturous punishment by the Roman empire for crimes against the authority of the state, including law and order. In order to increase his public shame and humiliation, the prisoner was made to carry the wooden horizontal cross-bar through the streets to the place of crucifixion and ultimate death. Jesus’ hearers would have witnessed these kinds of executions, and known what they were about – an attempt to coerce and threaten the public into submission, as in: ‘if you don’t want to suffer the same fate, you will be sure to follow our rules.’

So Jesus holding up this image of disciples carrying the cross is putting those who would follow him on notice. There will be times, Jesus is saying, when my priorities and values and those of the Kingdom of God will come into conflict with those of the surrounding culture and the political authorities, and you need to be prepared for that. Not just prepared to follow a different way of life, but to know that there may be real-world consequences to your faith and discipleship. It might mean needing to break off a friendship, it might mean taking a public stand for justice and being ready to accept the consequences, it might mean feeling led to follow a course of action that is potentially dangerous because it threatens malign powers-that-be. The German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was part of the WWII resistance movement, and the Episcopal seminarian Jonathan Daniels, who was a white civil rights volunteer working to register black voters in Mississippi after the passage of the Voting Rights Act in 1965, were both killed because of their work on Christ’s behalf. Jesus’ words are a reminder that following him will not make us safe and secure, as much as we would like that to be the case.

But following Jesus will lead us to truth, to love, to partnership with God, to greater meaning and purpose in life, to strength, and wholeness, and joy. And that is worth our time and attention and effort each and every day.

Let us pray.
Day by day, dear Lord, three things we pray: to see thee more clearly, to love thee more dearly, to follow thee more nearly, day by day. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 4, 2016