Services

I came to bring fire to the earth” Jesus tells us in Luke 12:49-56.  For Luke’s contemporary audience, who had lived through the sacking of Jerusalem and the burning of towns and villages, this fire was all too literal. 

Yet fire has many uses both literally and metaphorically.  In Jeremiah 23:23-29 the word of God is described as fire.  The people have been listening instead to deceitful words offering false comfort and security, telling them just what they want to hear.  In contrast the fire of God’s word burns away what is false and reveals the reality of their situation. The truth will set you free but first it will first piss you off. 

As Jesus points out, when the truth is contested, the result will be division.  Although this feels like the opposite of peace it is a necessary prelude to building a just peace. The peace that earthly powers is too often an unjust peace bought at a price borne by the world’s poorest and weakest.  The peace that Jesus offers is not “of this world”, it requires the destruction of structures and practices that lead to suffering and inequality.  As Luke’s community knew all to well, taking a stand against injustice often incites the anger of those who have vested interests in the status quo. 

How did God’s people then, and how do we today, test the words we hear?  How do we distinguish between hearing what we want to hear and hearing the uncomfortable truths that we need to hear?  Are we willing to open our ears to the cry of the prophets, old and new calling us to change in order that the world too may be changed and God’s kingdom may come? 

Do not be afraid.  Both of our readings today start with these words.  What is it that we should not be afraid of? 

In Genesis 15:1-6 Abraham is afraid that he will die childless and that a slave will be his heir.  In Luke 12:32-40 the disciples are afraid of many things, of persecution, of loss of community, of lacking food and clothing and the necessary things of life. 

In each case the real fear is lack of a future: Abraham’s name will not pass into the next generation; the disciples may not survive this generation. 

Abraham is assured that he will have a son, the disciples are assured that they will be given what they need but more than this they are not to be afraid because God will give them God’s very self: “for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom”. 

The problem is that we can only receive the kingdom, all that God desires to give us, if we stop chasing after all the things that we are afraid we may lose or will never have.  No matter how hard we try, none of us can assure our future, not through family or status or possessions.  But God can and will if only we can stop living in fear.

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.