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Everyone is rich in this morning’s readings: the teacher in Ecclesiastes, the brother speaking to Jesus, the landowner in the parable; they are all wealthy and they are all unhappy.
Despite their hard work and good fortune they cannot enjoy life, instead they are preoccupied with how to protect their wealth from others. None of them want to share their good fortune: the words “I” and “me” and “myself” are littered throughout the texts. The young man at least is talking to Jesus in Luke 12:13-21, the teacher and the landowner, on the other hand, are talking exclusively to themselves. Wealth has become a trap which isolates them from others.
They end up, not only resenting the others who may enjoy their success but their own lives too: The teacher in Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14 -2:18-2, resents his labour: “I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun.” The landowner works harder and harder but never gets to enjoy the fruits of his labour, to “relax, eat, drink and be merry”.
This is not so much about money and what to do with it as life and how we live it. How do we flourish and thrive? We expect too much of wealth if we expect it to provide us with a sense of purpose and meaning. What seems to be missing from the lives of these unhappy rich people is other people, community, an acknowledgement that they are interdependent, a sense of being a part of and contributing to something meaningful that transcends their own life and labours.
We are more than the sum of our labours, more than the size of our bank accounts, we are made in the image of a God. A God who teaches us that life is not transactional, life is relational. A God who gives us everything that we might enjoy it together.
This morning, in Genesis 18:20-33, Abraham is praying but it looks suspiciously like bargaining. Does Abraham assume that prayer is a means of influencing God? That if he is persistent enough, like the man who calls on his friend at midnight in Jesus’ story, God will give him what he asks for?
Jesus does indeed say, in Luke 11:1-13, that everyone who asks receives but what we receive is the Holy Spirit. He promises that God will give us the gift of God’s self. Prayer for Jesus then is not transactional but relational. It is not God who is changed by our prayer but we who are changed by entering more deeply into a relationship with the divine. Although Abraham’s prayer seems profoundly transactional (he wants something and he is attempting to persuade God to give it to him) it is also relational: a means of Abraham discovering more about the nature and identity of God.
What is beautiful about Abraham’s prayer is that he brings his whole self, he is honest and direct. In his prayer he explores how he relates to God, he who is just “dust and ashes” and yet “takes it upon [himself] to speak to the Lord”. A relationship requires both sides to show up, to be fully present and so does prayer. It is only when we come before God, just as we are (for better and for worse) that we can receive God just as God is.
It is interesting that both Abraham and the man in Jesus’ story are petitioning, not on their own behalf, but on the behalf of others. Discovering who God is helps us to discover who we are and so how we should act towards God, self and the world around us.
Hospitality, service, welcome is at the heart of our faith. Throughout scripture, those who fail to offer hospitality (the inhabitants of Sodom and Gommorah, the Pharisees, the elder brother of the prodigal son) are criticised whereas those who offer hospitality without hesitation or discrimination, as Abraham does in Genesis 18:1-10a, are blessed.
Why then, in Luke 10:38-42, is Martha, who opens her home to Jesus, criticised? Why is Mary, the sister who sat and listened whilst her sister did all the work, praised as choosing the better part?
Jesus does not criticise Martha for serving, he criticises her for attempting to limit her sister’s choices.
All human beings are dependent on the services of others. We are part of a web of interdependence. Many of those on whose services our lives depend: from farmers to ambulance drivers to bin collectors (like the slaves who prepare Abraham’s feast) have little choice. Perhaps we are called not only to serve as Martha did, but to reflect on Christ’s words as carefully as Mary did; and consider how we may change our choices so that they do not prevent others from being able to choose for themselves.
This is the point that the scholar in Luke 10:25-37 is missing. He regards the law as something to perform, something that defines others. He asks Jesus to define his neighbour, to categorise those to whom he owes an obligation. When Jesus replies with the story of the Good Samaritan, he does more than widen the class of those who fall within the scope of the law, he asks instead who has the law within their hearts: who was a neighbour to the one in need. The story is not about who is the object of our care but who is the one who cares for us. Being a neighbour is our deepest identity: we act from love because it is who we are, who God called us to be. Choosing love, is choosing life, not just for the one who receives love but for the one who gives it. When we go and do likewise we too choose life and blessing.
Before they enter the promised land, Moses urges God’s people to keep the law (Deuteronomy 30:9-14). The blessings that Moses promises they will receive are not a reward for keeping the law, rather the law itself is the blessing. Following it is not a burden because it is what allows us to flourish, to “choose life”. It is rooted not in stone or ordinance but within us, on our lips and in our hearts. It forms our very identity as children of God.
This is the point that the scholar in Luke 10:25-37 is missing. He regards the law as something to perform, something that defines others. He asks Jesus to define his neighbour, to categorise those to whom he owes an obligation. When Jesus replies with the story of the Good Samaritan, he does more than widen the class of those who fall within the scope of the law, he asks instead who has the law within their hearts: who was a neighbour to the one in need. The story is not about who is the object of our care but who is the one who cares for us. Being a neighbour is our deepest identity: we act from love because it is who we are, who God called us to be. Choosing love, is choosing life, not just for the one who receives love but for the one who gives it. When we go and do likewise we too choose life and blessing.
“All the gospels tell the story of Jesus sending the 12 disciples to spread the news of God’s kingdom but only Luke’s gospel, 10:11-20, also speaks of the sending out of 70.
Twelve is a magic number in Scripture, the 12 tribes of Israel, the 12 disciples, it symbolises the people of God, the Hebrew nation. Seventy is also a special number, it symbolised all the nations of the earth (see Genesis 10). For Luke, the kingdom of God was not just for the special few but for all people.
Jesus sends the 70 out with nothing, no bag, no purse, no sandals. They will need to depend on the hospitality of those they are sent to, all they offer in return is God’s peace. They are warned that they may face rejection and danger, they are sent as “lambs into the midst of wolves”, yet they return rejoicing at everything they have achieved. Jesus reminds them that they should rejoice only in being part of God’s family, the deeds they have done are the result of God at work within them. Their job is to show up just as they are, weak and vulnerable, with nothing to offer except for what God is offering through them.
This morning, we are baptising two children: one is 8 years old and the other just a baby. Baptising children reminds us that we come to God with nothing, we come just as we are, we do not do anything to earn God’s grace, it is a gift that we can receive or reject.
It is hard for us adults to be vulnerable, we prefer to rely on our own strength and resources, but God doesn’t need these. Sure, God will use whatever we’ve got but our accomplishments and cleverness can so easily get in the way of God’s work. God can use our weaknesses so much more than our strengths. It is for us to decide whether we want to cling onto all that we are so proud of, or to trust God’s power to accomplish what we cannot.
All the gospels tell the story of Jesus sending the 12 disciples to spread the news of God’s kingdom but only Luke’s gospel, 10:11-20, also speaks of the sending out of 70.
Twelve is a magic number in Scripture, the 12 tribes of Israel, the 12 disciples, it symbolises the people of God, the Hebrew nation. Seventy is also a special number, it symbolised all the nations of the earth (see Genesis 10). For Luke, the kingdom of God was not just for the special few but for all people.
Jesus sends the 70 out with nothing, no bag, no purse, no sandals. They will need to depend on the hospitality of those they are sent to, all they offer in return is God’s peace. They are warned that they may face rejection and danger, they are sent as “lambs into the midst of wolves”, yet they return rejoicing at everything they have achieved. Jesus reminds them that they should rejoice only in being part of God’s family, the deeds they have done are the result of God at work within them. Their job is to show up just as they are, weak and vulnerable, with nothing to offer except for what God is offering through them.
This morning, we are baptising two children: one is 8 years old and the other just a baby. Baptising children reminds us that we come to God with nothing, we come just as we are, we do not do anything to earn God’s grace, it is a gift that we can receive or reject.
It is hard for us adults to be vulnerable, we prefer to rely on our own strength and resources, but God doesn’t need these. Sure, God will use whatever we’ve got but our accomplishments and cleverness can so easily get in the way of God’s work. God can use our weaknesses so much more than our strengths. It is for us to decide whether we want to cling onto all that we are so proud of, or to trust God’s power to accomplish what we cannot.
The story of Jesus’ encounter with the demoniac in Luke 8:26-39 could be read as just another miraculous healing. A man is set free from all that has imprisoned him: physically, socially and psychologically.
But healing miracles are never just about the person being healed they are metaphors for some larger social ill in need of healing.
The miracle takes place in Gerasa, the site of a massacre of Hebrews resisting Roman rule. The demon calls itself Legion, the term for a garrison of 5-6,000 occupying forces. Even the pigs echo the symbol of the infamous 10th fretensis legion. All of these references would be familiar to those who witnessed the healing.
Isaiah 65:1-9, reminds us that Jesus is entering a dangerous and prohibited place, that dealing with swine and entering tombs is forbidden. The story assures us that there is no human condition so abject and abominable that God cannot enter, bringing healing and redemption.
But just as the people of God in Isaiah have rejected God’s “outstretched hands” and turned instead to other powers, so the crowd in Luke reject Jesus. They are “seized with fear”. They understand that Jesus’s actions are about more than the healing of one the man; they are a challenge to all the forces that constrain and exclude God’s children.
They are a challenge to us too: can we see what binds us? do we believe that God’s power is greater than the forces at work in oppression and injustice? do we have the courage to challenge them? do we want ourselves, and all God’s, children to be free?
At the end of Acts chapter 15 Paul decides to visit his fellow Christians in places he knew but he is prevented from doing so. Instead, in Acts 16:9-15, he is sent somewhere new. He believes that he is going to the men in Macedonia but it is the women who respond to his preaching. The work of God leads him to unexpected people in unexpected places, the outcomes are equally uncertain, some positive some not so and he will not always be able to see his efforts bearing fruit.
This morning, in John 5:1-9, Jesus’ efforts also have mixed results when he heals a paralysed man in Bethsaida. The man offers no thanks and shows not signs of faith. He will go on to blame Jesus when he is reprimanded by the religious authorities. The man’s paralysis is more than physical. His situation has left him apathetic and despairing. When asked if he wants to be made well, he blames others for his condition. He took no responsibility before he could walk and he continues to take none once healed. We too are often paralysed. We are not confident that our actions can make a difference. Perhaps we are afraid that we may be rejected or that our efforts will fail, that embracing healing and wholeness will also involve embracing change and uncertainty. But, despite our reticence, our recklessly generous God continues to ask us “do you want to made well?”