“The whole message of the Gospel is this: Become like Jesus.” – Henri Nouwen
Category Archives: Gospel
Sermon – The Days of Noah (Advent 1A)
This is an old sermon of mine based upon the gospel text for the First Sunday of Advent, Year A – Matthew 24:36-44.
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“For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man," writes Matthew.
The season of Advent is upon us, this being the first Sunday.
Advent, like Lent,
is a time or preparation,
a time of getting ready,
And I don’t mean preparing for Christmas celebrations or family get together.
And I don’t mean getting ready by buying all your presents in the next few days before all the good stuff is gone and the parking lots at the malls or shopping centers get too full.
Advent is about preparing for and getting ready to meet Christ,
and so it is no surprise that our scripture lessons speak of the need to get ready,
to stay awake,
to throw aside the evils we hold onto and take upon ourselves Christ.
What might be a little surprising, though, is that our gospel lesson doesn’t speak about Jesus coming as a baby so many hundreds of years ago.
Rather, it speaks of Jesus second advent, or second coming.
Now I don’t want us to get too caught up in the particulars of Jesus’ return.
I won’t outline for you a time-line of prophetic events,
nor will I give you ten easy ways to determine the day Jesus will return.
I’m not even going to talk about the Left Behind series of books that have become best sellers.
Besides, it seems to me that these verses from Matthew go a long way to dispute the kind of thinking seen in these things anyway.
In fact, in this passage Jesus doesn’t tell us when he is going to come back at all,
and instead he tells us how we should be living when he does return.
And it is here that Jesus tells us that his coming among us,
whether for the first time or the second time, or any time,
will be as it was in the days of Noah.
Matthew writes:
For as the days of Noah were,
so will be the coming of the Son of Man.
For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage,
until the day Noah entered the ark,
and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.
Now, notice something about these verses:
in them Jesus does not accuse the people of Noah’s day of doing anything wrong.
He does not go into detail and draw up a long list of their crimes and misdemeanors,
and neither does he condemn the people in the days of Noah for their great sins.
All Jesus says is:
They were eating and drinking and getting married.
Now there is nothing wrong with that.
Everyone needs food and water,
and most everyone needs companionship.
These are not sinful activities.
The problem, we find out,
is not what the people were doing.
No, the problem was what they failed to do.
On the one hand they were unprepared for what was about to happen to them.
They did not expect that a flood would come,
and so they did nothing to get ready for that watery day of judgement.
I am reminded of Monty Python’s sketch, "The Spanish Inquisition."
In it a man is being questioned in such a surprising way that he finds himself saying,
"Look, Mr Wentworth just told me to come in here and say that there was trouble at the mill,
that’s all –
I didn’t expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition."
And then, as if on cue,
inquisitors burst into the room and one of them says,
"NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Our chief weapon is surprise.
surprise and fear.
fear and surprise..
Our two weapons are fear and surprise.
and ruthless efficiency..
Our three weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency.
and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope..
Our four.
no.
Amongst our weapons..
Amongst our weaponry are such elements as fear, surprise..
I’ll come in again."
The inquisitors exit the scene to re-enter and begin the speech again.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.
As Jesus said,
"If the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming,
he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into" (Matthew 24:43).
The Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour,
just as the flood was itself unexpected.
But even more than the flood being unexpected,
there is am ignorance that seems prevalent,
which Jesus acknowledges when he says:
"they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away."
You see, there was something that they did not know,
and it was this something that Jesus felt was crucial.
What was it?
What were the people of Noah’s day not doing?
What was the something they did not know?
And the question could as easily be:
What is it?
What is it in our own day,
that people often do not know such that when the floods come they are swept away?
I want to suggest this morning that what the people in Noah’s day,
in Jesus’ day,
and in our own day do not know is that the nature of life is basically spiritual.
At the heart and ground of our being is our spiritual existence,
our eternal nature.
Before we are anything at all,
we are first creations of God into whom God breathes the Spirit of life,
and without that breath of God,
without that spirit,
we are nothing and life holds no meaning.
I want to suggest that the problem then and now lies with our assumption that life consists primarily in eating and drinking and marrying and all the rest,
while all the time ignoring our true nature as children of the living God.
Some wise person once said that most people look at religion the way a pilot sees a parachute.
They are glad it’s there,
but they hope they never have to use it.
As in the days of Noah,
people do not know God;
they do not know that their eternal souls are all that really matters,
and so,
when the rain falls,
the wind blows,
and the flood comes;
they are swept away on its waves.
While I was at Saint Mark in Trenton,
I once received a call from a hospital asking if I could come right away.
Someone was dying and the family wanted a minister.
I got to the hospital as quickly as I could,
but the woman had already died a few minutes earlier.
Now the family at this time doesn’t particularly want to talk to me,
or ask for prayer,
or any such thing.
So I asked how long the loved one had been in the hospital.
And it turns out she had been in intensive care for over a week,
but it was only when the doctor said she was almost gone that they called for a pastor to come over.
And now that I, the pastor, have arrived,
they really don’t know what to do with me.
It just seems that when death is at hand,
and you don’t know what else to do,’
then you call a pastor.
The family took my phone number,
in case they needed someone for the funeral,
and that was the end of our relationship.
I never heard from them again,
And afterwards when I thought back on the experience,
my only response was basically to say to myself,
"What a shame."
This family seemed to me to be like
the people in the days of Noah,
eating and drinking and marrying and being given in marriage,
and "they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them away."
They knew nothing about the fact that they and their loved one are children of God,
they knew nothing about prayer being the heart and center of true human existence,
and they did not know that when death comes,
you commit your loved ones faithfully into their creator’s hands,
and that you call the pastor early in the process,
so that scriptures may be read,
and the faith may be shared,
and prayer may be used to unite everyone together.
They just did not know -
I want you to contrast the spiritual poverty of that situation with the words of Marvin Franklin,
a fellow minister and once good friend of mine.
In one of his reports to the charge Conference of St Mark,
he once described his ministry of visitation to the sick and wrote about those he visited:
As many suffer the ravages of time and disease,
As mortal ills of the flesh prevail,
their continued spiritual growth enables them to
be more than conquerors through Christ who loves them.
They are fighting the good fight,
and are keeping the faith as they suffer loss after loss,
enduring many deaths,
but experiencing the resurrection triumph.
I remember the words Marvin once said, of a parishioner he visited while she was on her death bed.
After he had sat with her awhile,
read some scripture and prayed with her,
the woman, just hours before her death,
looked up at Marvin and said:
"You can go now. I will be alright."
I will be alright, she said.
When the flood of death finally comes,
I will be alright
because I know the God who has conquered death in the resurrection of my Lord, Jesus Christ.
Marvin died not too many years after I left St. Mark for Eastern Pennsylvania,
and I felt his death deeply.
For between his customary greeting,
which was always, “Happy Day.”
And his love of God,
I have met few Christians or pastors who were more in touch with the spiritual core of their existence.
My friends, the people in the days of Noah were not doing anything wrong.
According to Jesus,
they were just eating, drinking and marrying and all the normal things people have been doing since they came into being.
The trouble was that they were not in touch with God and what God was doing.
They were so wrapped up in their own agendas,
so captured by the physical and material dimensions of their lives,
that they missed the only dimension which counts in the end,
the eternal, spiritual dimension.
Now if that sounds like a description of modern life during the Christmas season,
rest assured I intend that way.
The shopper’s countdown is on – only 27 more days left to buy and buy and buy some more,
just so much time to do all the things that make up a successful commercial holiday.
The days of Noah are upon us once again,
and we are caught up in the usual flurry of eating and drinking and shopping and partying and traveling and visiting,
and just as the people of Noah’s day did not know,
so many people in our own day do not know what is most important at this time.
And even some of us who do know,
who have no excuse whatsoever,
even some of us who know will forget in the midst of our busy lives.
And in the end a great many people will arrive at Christmas day concerned and worried about whether the gifts they bought were right,
or the dinner they gave got good reviews,
or simply glad that the hassle is over with.
But the weeks ahead offer us a special opportunity to know the wonder of Christ’s coming among us;
to marvel at the gracious love of our God who enters our world as the child of peasants;
to see one another and all people as God’s children –
our brothers and sisters.
But will we?
Or will we be like those in days of Noah?
In Thornton Wilder’s play, "Our Town,"
the main character Emily,
who has died giving birth,
is given the opportunity to return to her life and home on earth and observe the happenings of one ordinary day from her childhood.
As she watches the events of that day unfold,
she breaks down and cries
"I can’t go on.
Oh, it goes so fast, and we don’t have time to look at one another.
I didn’t realize.
So all that was going on and we never noticed!
Take me back – up the hill – to my grave.
But first:
Wait!
One more look!
Goodbye!
Goodbye Grover’s Corners,
Goodbye Mama and Papa,
Goodbye to clocks ticking – and my butternut tree!
Goodbye to Mama’s sunflowers and food and coffee and new-ironed dresses and hot baths and sleeping and waking up!
Oh, Earth, you are too wonderful for anyone to realize you!"
And then Emily asks:
Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it – every, every minute?"
And off to the side,
the stage manager answers softly,
"No – Saints and Poets maybe – they do some."
The challenge is for us to realize life during the Christmas season.
The challenge is to be one of those Saints or Poets,
like Marvin Franklin,
who can say throughout any day "Happy Day!"
The challenge is for us to wake up to the wonder and beauty that surrounds us throughout the Advent of Christ.
How can we do these things?
The scripture says:
"For as it was in the days of Noah,
so will it be at the coming of the Son of Man with
everyone eating and drinking and marrying and being given in marriage,"
and never knowing the God in their midst,
the God who was made known to all in the birth, life, and sacrificial death of our Lord Jesus Christ.
We can make a step in the right direction this morning,
we can move away from the days of Noah,
and we can do it through the very things those people were so caught up in.
You have before you a table spread.
You are invited to come and to eat and drink,
not just physical food, however –
most of us have enough of that already.
But we have here before us the presence of Christ,
spiritual food and drink which can sustain us through the floods of life when all other things fail us.
This sacrament of communion, of the body and blood of Christ offers us the opportunity to know Christ as we enter this Christmas season.
Let us prepare for Christ’s coming,
that the flood may not sweep us away.
Luke 13:10-17 – My Paraphrase
Now Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And a woman was there who had a spirit of disease for eighteen years. She was completely bent over and was never able to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he summoned her and said, “Woman, you are set free from your disease.” Then he laid hands on her, and at once she stood up straight and praised God.
But the leader of the synagogue began to speak with indignation because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath. He said to the crowd, “There are six days on which it is proper to do work. Come on those days and be healed, but not on the Sabbath day.”
Then the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath loose his ox or his donkey from the stall and lead it away to give it water? Then shouldn’t this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set loose from this bondage on the Sabbath day?”
When he said this, all his adversaries were put to shame; and all the people rejoiced at all the glorious things that were done by him.
Luke 10:38-42 – My Paraphrase
Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him as a guest into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat down beside Jesus’ feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was driven to distraction by much serving; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and disturbed by many things, but only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen what is best, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 7:11-17 – My Paraphrase
Luke 7:11-17
On the nest day, Jesus journeyed to a town called Nain, and many of his disciples and a large crowd of people went with him. Now when Jesus approached the gate of the town, a man who was dead was being carried out for burial. The dead man was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. With her was a great number of people from the town.
And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Weep not.” Then Jesus approached the funeral pallet and touched it. And those who carried it came to a stand still. Then Jesus said, “Young man, I command you, rise up!” And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.
Terror seized them all, but even so they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us! And “God has visited his people!” For this reason, word about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the entire region.
Welcome to the Table – A Sermon for Pentecost 3, Proper 6, Ordinary 11
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The texts for this sermon are as follows, and can be read here.
1 Kings 21:1-21a
Psalm 5:1-8
Galatians 2:15-21
Luke 7:36-8:3
As one might surmise when reading this message, it owes much of its form and substance to the work of William Willimon in his periodical for preachers called Pulpit Resources.
———-
Will Willimon, commenting on today’s gospel reading in Pulpit Resources,
states that rarely, in human life, are boundaries drawn more clearly than around the dinner table. We are careful about whom we invite to dinner.
Your daughter is dating a young man.
“Dad, can I invite Ted to lunch after church?”
Your ears perk up.
What does this mean?
Who is this stranger who would intrude at our table?
You are at your first week on your new job.
You wonder if you will like it here, how you will get along with your new colleagues.
Then someone says, “There’s a group of us that goes out for lunch on Fridays.
Do you want to join us?”
And then You think that you may make friends here after all.
We erect some pretty touch boundaries around the table,
and in a way this is good.
After all, the table is a place of intimacy,
and sharing of food together is one of the most intimate of human activities.
The family meal, eaten by the gathered family at the end of the day, is a sort of sacrament of family life,
an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.
Maybe that’s why the writer of the 23rd psalm sings,
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”
The psalmist knows that the one who will invite you to the table is the one who will stick beside you through think and thin,
even when you are threatened by your enemies.
For the Jewish people of Jesus’ day,
every meal was a religious occasion.
We even get our custom of saying a blessing,
a grace before meals,
from the Jews.
When you say a blessing before eating,
you claim the dinner table as a place of divine grace and revelation.
“God is great,
God is good,
let us thank him for our food” is a very Jewish prayer.
If you want to know God,
Israel says that you don’t have to go up to some mountaintop.
All you have to do to discover the love of God is to consider the food on your table.
So today’s gospel puts us at the table with Jesus.
Now Jesus is the guest of a man named Simon,
a very religious person,
a Pharisee who spends much of his day studying God’s word and attempting to put his religion into practice in everyday life.
When we get to today’s reading,
the blessing has already been said,
God has been invoked,
and the conversation has begun to get underway.
First-century Jews were often members of religious societies that met regularly for meals and for religious conversation.
Maybe that’s what’s happening here at Simon’s house.
They do seem to be discussing religion,
and as I said,
Simon is very religious.
And everything seems to be going well until a woman enters the scene,
This woman is a “woman of the city.”
And she comes in and all but literally falls upon Jesus,
letting down her hair
(And yes, I think the expression “let down her hair” meant the same then as it does today),
kissing Jesus’ feet,
anointing his tired feet with oil and hair.
Well, as you can imagine,
this is more than Simon can take.
And the problem isn’t that this woman has violated social customs.
In fact, as Jesus notes,
she is showing kind hospitality.
It was customary,
when a guest entered your house,
to offer a kiss of welcome,
and to wash the guest’s feet as a sign of hospitality.
No, the problem is religious.
“If this man were a real prophet,” Simon says to himself,
just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear him,
“he would be able to see what sort of woman she is.
a sinner.”
I mean let’s be real for a minute.
What good are prophets anyway if not to be able to recognize real sin when it occurs,
to point to the boundaries between the holy and the unholy,
the righteous and the unrighteous.
If Jesus were really a prophet,
he would be able to see.
And in response to Simon,
Jesus does what he often does when confronted.
Jesus tells a parable.
One man owed his creditor a small sum.
Another owed a great sum.
The creditor forgave both.
Think now, Simon,
which one would be the most grateful?
And being the great religious scholar and person he is,
Simon answers right away,
well, the one forgiven the most would be the most grateful.
Then Jesus turns to Simon at the table and says,
“Simon, look at this woman.
You showed me no hospitality.
Look how she welcomes me.”
Perhaps it’s a matter of perception.
Simon, look at this woman.
What do you see?
A sinner we need to keep out of our presence,
a woman in need of exclusion?
Or do you see a sinner in need of forgiveness and reconciliation?
Is she a code breaker who ought to be punished for her violation of the code? Or is she a person full of hunger who needs life-giving nourishment?
It all depends on how we look at it.
But note please the difference in the way Simon sees the woman and the way Jesus sees her.
Friends, what kind of vision do we have?
When we gather to celebrate the Lord’s supper,
the holy Eucharist,
what does this meal mean?
Who comes to this table?
Is this a meal just for the family,
those of us gathered here in the fold?
Or is this a meal of invitation and inclusion,
meant to be shared with the whole world?
Is this a meal for the righteous elect?
Or is this a meal for sinners being forgiven?
Today’s gospel story is a story full of physical activity,
of touch and smell,
taste and touch.
Jesus doesn’t bother the woman with the fine points of theology that Simon surely knows so well.
It is enough for her to be at the table.
She doesn’t say anything.
She reaches out.
She touches Jesus.
This is more than Simon can take.
“If Jesus were a real prophet,
he would be able to see what sort of woman is touching him!” he exclaims.
But for Jesus,
forgiveness is not some doctrine to be believed; rather,
it is a feast to be received,
a party to which the outcasts are invited,
a gift to be received with empty hands.
So Jesus not only tells a parable at the table,
he becomes a parable,
a sign to us of what God is up to in the world.
In Jesus,
God is busy inviting the whole world to the table.
A concluding question:
How do we insiders like this story?
We began our service of worship with an invocation,
with prayer and song asking God to be present among us.
We are here to receive Jesus into our hearts and minds.
But how do we like this story about a woman,
a “woman of the city,”
an outsider and sinner,
who was better at receiving Jesus than Simon the insider?
The Jesus whom we receive is too often the Jesus of the elect,
the Jesus owned by the insiders.
But here comes this Jesus who has this thing for the outsiders;
who makes the table,
not just a place of warmhearted fellowship for the family,
but also a means of grace,
a sign of invitation to others to come join the family.
How well do we receive that Jesus?
When Jesus says to her,
“Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
I don’t think he means,
“Because you have faith,
you have been forgiven.”
That would be the old
“if you do this, I’ll give you this.”
Rather, this woman’s faith is revealed in her coming to Jesus -
in her seeing something that Simon,
for all his religion,
can’t see.
She sees and knows that Jesus has come to save sinners.
Jesus has come to invite the lost to be found.
In knowing who Jesus is,
she is found,
she is saved.
If faith is a way of seeing,
she has it.
She sees who Jesus really is.
Simon sees only a would-be prophet.
She sees the Savior of the whole world,
the one who has come to invite all sinners (and aren’t we all?)
to the gospel feast.
Every time the church gathers for a meal,
be it the Lord’s supper here or a family night covered dish supper,
we believe that Christ is with us.
You know,
where two or three of us are gathered,
there he is also.
Today’s gospel bids us to open our eyes and see among us the outcast,
the outsiders,
the sinners as sisters and brothers at the table,
invited by Jesus to a great feast of salvation.
Willimon tells of a woman who once said to him,
“I don’t know that I’m Christian,
but I do consider myself very religious.”
The problem with that statement Willimon says,
is that Jesus, through his life,
assaulted our view of “religious.
We often use religion to draw lines across the world,
lines that demarcate the sinners from the saved,
insiders from outsiders.
Jesus makes religious an openhanded hospitality,
a gracious welcome and invitation toward those whom our religion often excludes.
I don’t know if I am very religious,
but I do hope that I am a disciple of Jesus.
And who is a disciple?
A disciple is someone who hears Jesus say,
“Come, sinners, to the feast”
and knows that Jesus means him or her.
A disciple is someone who then turns to sisters and brothers throughout the world and says,
“Come, join us sinners at the table.”
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Technorati tags: 1 Kings 21:1-21a, Psalm 5:1-8, Galatians 2:15-21. Luke 7:36-8:3, sermon, lectionary, welcome, sinners, Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper, forgiveness, preaching, Pentecost 3, Proper 6, Ordinary 11
The Relationship Between Forgiveness and Love – A Sermon for the Third Sunday After Pentecost, Proper 6, Ordinary 11
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The texts for this sermon and Sunday are as follows:
1 Kings 21:1-21a
Psalm 5:1-8
Galatians 2:15-21
Luke 7:36-8:3
You can read them in their entirety here.
———-
Let me paint you a picture.
It is the Sabbath,
and you and your friends and all sorts of important Jewish officials have gathered at the home of Simon the Pharisee for Dinner.
You have just come from the synagogue,
where you heard for the first time a young Rabbi named Jesus proclaim his own brand of gospel.
This Jesus is beginning to have quite a following and so it was natural for Simon to invite this Jesus over for a bite to eat.
You see, Simon is one of those collector of celebrities.
Anyone who was halfway important,
even a little famous or infamous as the case may be,
sooner or later ended up at Simon’s house.
And it was natural that Jesus would accept Simon’s offer.
It was widely known that Jesus, like many preachers,
would never turn down a dinner invitation.
Part of the problem,
as far as the religious officials were concerned,
was exactly this.
Jesus ate with anyone and everyone -
tax collector or priest
sinner or saint
it seemed to make no difference to this young rabbi.
The dinner is being held outside in the courtyard of Simon’s home.
Here the guests reclined at low tables,
and the meal was a leisurely affair.
It could last for hours.
It was the custom at this time and place that when a Rabbi was at meal in such a house as Simon’s,
well, all kinds of people would come,
whether they had been invited to eat or not.
They would mill around the outside of the table and around the courtyard,
and they would listen for any pearls of wisdom that would fall from the Rabbi’s lips.
There was more than a few of these people here at Simon’s.
Jesus was good at attracting a crowd.
There was quite a bit of hub-bub and racket.
And perhaps because of this Simon forgot to play the part of the host when Jesus entered.
It was the custom of the time for the host to give the invited guest a kiss of peace.
All Simon did was wave a hurried hello.
Simon also forgot to bring out the basin and water to pour over Jesus’ feet.
The roads of the day were just dusty tracks,
and the shoes were open sandals -
no more than soles held in place by straps.
So cool water was always poured on the guest’s feet to cleanse and to comfort them.
But not today.
Simon even forgot to anoint Jesus head with oil, as good manners demanded.
But Jesus didn’t seem to mind these things,
and the meal was progressing rather nicely.
It was going real good, as a matter of fact,
until that woman dared to show her face.
You know who I mean.
It was that woman.
That notorious woman of the town.
Everyone knew who she was,
Everyone knew what she did,
and no one could believe that she had even dared to come to this dinner.
and absolutely no one would have ever believed the things that happened next if they hadn’t been there themselves.
The woman moved through the crowd,
closer and closer to where the young teacher was seated.
She had heard him speak this morning.
She had stood outside the synagogue and listened as he taught from the Holy Scripture.
She had heard rumors about this man,
about how he was different than the other religious leaders and authorities.
And as she listened, she knew that the rumors were true.
She had felt many things in her life.
Hatred, great sadness, depression, a sense of hopelessness.
These she knew all too well.
Men claimed to know what she wanted.
We know what you want, they would sneer,
as they did their business with her.
The men claimed to know what she needed.
They’d mouth their words and tell their lies,
and she had gotten good at ignoring them,
acting as if what they said did not hurt.
acting as though she felt no pain.
But this man’s words rang true,
and they cut through the pain and the hate and the hopelessness,
and although men had told her countless times that they loved her,
for the first time in her life she felt loved as she stood listening to this Jesus speak.
And so she had come to Simon’s house.
She noticed that several of her clients had come as well,
although they tended to turn their faces from her in the daylight.
She thought she would just go up to Jesus and thank him for his words of that morning.
That’s all she wanted to do.
But when she got to where Jesus sat,
she began to cry.
It was as if something inside her,
some barrier to feelings and emotions, broke.
The tears came without her wanting them to.
And she noticed that they fell upon Jesus’ feet.
She was a little embarrassed,
and being caught up in the moment she knelt down and unbound her hair and began to dry Jesus’ feet with it.
Maybe she momentarily forgot that it was an immoral act for a woman to loose her hair in public,
maybe she had forgotten this long ago.
Or perhaps the moment was all that mattered,
and she knew that what she did was good and right.
She took the phial of perfume,
that every woman at that time wore around her neck,
and in her business one had to smell good,
and she poured out the perfume on his feet.
Filled with gratitude and love she began to kiss his feet over and over and over.
Well,
You can imagine what a stir this scene caused.
It was embarrassing to say the least.
And what self-respecting rabbi would let a woman like that get within two steps of him.
She was not just a prostitute,
but because of this was also unclean.
One should avoid contact with an unclean person.
And here Jesus was letting this woman cry all over him,
letting her wipe his feet with her hair.
Allowing her to kiss him.
All this was too much for Simon.
He wasn’t used to his little get-togethers turning out so badly.
And he thought to himself,
“If this fellow was a prophet,
he would know who this woman is and what this woman does.
He would know that this woman is a bad woman.”
Perhaps Simon muttered this to himself,
or maybe Jesus knew what he was thinking,
for he turned to Simon and told him a parable.
“Simon,” Jesus said, “there was a moneylender who had two debtors.
One debtor owed him over five hundred denarii, over a year’s wages.
The other debtor owed him fifty denarii, over a month’s salary.
Since neither of them could pay him back,
the moneylender graciously canceled both of their debts.
Now which of them should love him more?”
Well that was easy.
Simon knew the right answer immediately.
Like many Christians, Simon was an expert at right answers.
“Well,” he said,
“I suppose the one who owed the greater debt would love him the most.”
Jesus said to him, “Yes, You are right.”
Simon swelled with pride,
but what followed soon deflated his ego
for Jesus continued.
“Do you see this woman here at my feet?
I came into your house as a guest,
and you offered me no water for my feet;
yet she has bathed my feet with her tears and wiped them dry with her hair.
You gave me no kiss of welcome;
yet ever since I arrived she has not stopped kissing my feet.
You did not anoint my face even with cheap olive oil,
yet she has anointed my feet,
and with expensive perfume.
Her sins were many,
but it is easy to see that they have been forgiven,
for she loves greatly.
But the one to whom little is forgiven loves little.
And then Jesus spoke for the first time to the woman,
“Your sins are forgiven.
Your faith has brought you to salvation;
go in peace.”
And this is exactly what she did.
My friends,
this story in Luke drives home in a special way the relationship between the forgiveness of sins by God and the place of human love and the giving of one’s self to another.
Simon is a righteous man of sorts.
He has little to be forgiven for,
and so he shows Jesus only a little love.
The woman had sinned much,
she had been forgiven a great deal,
and so the love she showed was also great.
Forgave…..Forgave…..forgiven……forgiven…forgiven…for-gives.
Six times some form of the word forgives occurs in this story.
With repetitive frequency,
Luke jackhammers home to us that this story is about divine mercy.
It is a strong contrast:
the woman,
probably a prostitute,
lavishes on Jesus acts of thankfulness;
while Simon,
a Pharisee and religious leader,
smugly assumes that Jesus is ignorant or naive about the facts of the matter.
But Jesus does know,
and it does not matter that the person kneeling at his feet is a woman,
or that she is a known prostitute,
or that she has come unwelcome to the party,
or that she is ritually unclean,
or anything else.
What matters is that God’s grace and forgiveness is offered to all,
with no strings attached;
and so run of the mill sinners,
known prostitutes,
and even smug Pharisees and church-goers,
can receive it.
What matters is that the woman shows Jesus love,
and in doing so she shows that her sins have been forgiven.
Jesus tells the woman at the end to “go in peace.”
It is the same peace that the psalmist spoke of when he once wrote:
Happy are those whose transgressions are forgiven,
and whose sin is put away.
And I am here to tell you today that God has not changed.
God’s mercy is here for us today as surely as it was there for the woman and the Pharisee.
And it is up to us to decide which of these two people we want to emulate.
Jesus has linked together for us forgiveness and loving.
Both are related to our salvation.
After all, what else was Jesus doing on the cross but forgiving, loving and thereby saving us?
I do not know about you,
but I know at least three things about my life:
I know that in my life I have sinned much.
I know that I have been forgiven much.
And I know now that I must therefore love much.
Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche has said that “God reveals himself to us by revealing us to ourselves.”
When we really look in the mirror, in the presence of our loving God,
and really see who we are – what we have done and what we have failed to do – how dishonest and self-serving we have been -
then, and only then, do we discover our need for a Savior.
If there is one thing I know it is this:
I need a Savior.
I need a Savior to save me from myself,
from my selfishness and self-centeredness.
I need a Savior to help me forgive as I have been forgiven,
and I need a Savior to help me love as I have been loved.
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Technorati tags: 1 Kings 21:1-21a, Psalm 5:1-8, Galatians 2:15-21. Luke 7:36-8:3, sermon, lectionary, forgiveness, love, Jean Vanier, L’Arche, preaching, Pentecost 3, Proper 6, Ordinary 11
Powerpoint Slides for Ascension Day
Below you will find four slides I have put together for Ascension Day. To get to a larger version of each slide (800×600), click on the image to be taken to my flickr account. Let me know if these are of any use. Thanks.
How Much Do You Love Jesus? Show Him
A sermon based on John 21:1-19
by Will Humes
John, chapter twenty, which is right before our reading this morning, ends with verses 30 and 31,
which read:
“Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples,
which are not written in this book;
but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,
and that believing you may have life in his name.”
These verses provide a logical conclusion to John’s gospel.
Nothing more remains to be said, it would seem.
But then we have a whole other chapter tacked on after this.
Those who study the scripture tell us that chapter 21 is an addition to the gospel – an epilogue.
Now an epilogue is something added to the conclusion of a story,
the purpose of which is to complete some lines of thought or ideas or a narrative strand left unfinished.
And this got to to wondering what would have caused John to take up his pen and write another chapter to his book,
after he thought he had finished it.
What else needed to be said?
What story had he left out?
And the answer to that question for me has to do with Jesus and Peter and their conversation about love.
Of course, compared to the other gospel writers,
John has already written about love more than the rest combined.
His gospel is full of passages about love.
John 3:16 tells us about God’s love:
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have eternal life.”
John 5:20 tells us that God the Father loves his son, Jesus Christ.
John 11 tells us about Jesus great love for his friend Lazarus.
Upon seeing Jesus weep,
some of those gathered said to each other:
“See how much he loved Lazarus!”
And John 13: 34-35 recounts Jesus’ love for us, and his commandment to us, as his followers, to love one another:
“A new commandment I give to you,
that you love one another; even as I have loved you.
By this all people will know that you are my disciples,
if you love one another.”
And, of course, Jesus death on the cross,
readily shows his great love for the world,
and not just for his followers and friends then,
but for all people of all times and places.
So, having told us already that God loves us, Jesus loves us, and that we should love one another.
We might be wondering by now what more John can possibly say about love.
What else is there for him to add?
The what else is this:
What about our love for God?
What about our love for the one sent by God, Jesus the Christ?
No gospel is complete,
no story is finished,
no talk about love can be concluded,
without speaking about our love for Christ, our love for God.
This is the unfinished part,
and this is what prompts John to take pen in hand and write his epilogue.
John remembered a conversation Jesus once had with Peter,
and he especially remembered the question Jesus asked;
the question – “Do you love me?”
Do you love me?
What a powerful question.
It’s a question that’s been the source of a multitude of stories,
books, plays and poems.
Thousands, perhaps millions of songs have been written and sung about this question and the answers it engenders.
Hearts have soared to new heights,
life has taken on new meaning,
and hope has blossomed and flourished when the answer to this question is yes, I love you.
Hearts have been broken, crushed,
lives have virtually ended,
and hopes have been shattered when the answer is no.
It is said that young Mozart was driven to ask everyone the same question of everyone he met.
The question: “Do you love me?”
And it is this question that Jesus asked Peter,
and it is asked of every person who claims to follow in Peter footsteps and be a disciple of Christ.
And I am sure that almost everyone here would answer this question in the affirmative.
Just as Peter did.
Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.
But then there is a follow-up to our answer,
If you love me, Jesus says, then show me.
And that, my friends, is the tricky part.
It is easy to profess our love,
It is far more difficult to live out of love.
I remember a discussion in a class at Seminary once.
The professor was asking the class how you knew if another person loved you.
“How do you know that he or she loves you?” he asked.
They may say they love you,
they may shout it from the rooftop,
they may take an ad out in the paper,
but how can you really know?”
Getting no answers from this supposedly bright class,
the professor answered the question himself,
“You know that someone loves you, he said, “by what they do.”
And in the case of love,
actions really do speak louder than words.
This reminds me of the Broadway musical and later Hollywood film called My Fair Lady.
As the scenes unfold Eliza becomes more and more frustrated about a paramour, who though he speaks of love,
is reticent to show his affection.
The music wells up in the background,
and we know a song is on the way.
Eliza then exclaims:
Words! Words! Words! I’m so sick of words!
I get words all day through;
First from him, now from you!
Is that all you blighters can do?
Don’t talk of stars burning above;
If you’re in love, Show me!
Tell me no dreams filled with desire.
If you’re on fire, Show me!
Here we are together in the middle of the night!
Don’t talk of spring! Just hold me tight!
Anyone who’s ever been in love’ll tell you that
This is no time for a chat!
Haven’t your lips longed for my touch?
Don’t say how much, Show me! Show me!
Don’t talk of love lasting through time.
Make me no undying vow. Show me now!
Sing me no song! Read me no rhyme!
Don’t waste my time, Show me!
Don’t talk of June, Don’t talk of fall!
Don’t talk at all! Show me!
Never do I ever want to hear another word.
There isn’t one I haven’t heard.
Here we are together in what ought to be a dream;
Say one more word and I’ll scream!
Haven’t your arms hungered for mine?
Please don’t “expl’ine,” Show me! Show me!
Don’t wait until wrinkles and lines
Pop out all over my brow,
Show me now!
We only know that love is true and real if the one who claims to loves us, shows us his or her by what he or she does.
And that brings us back to Peter and Jesus.
Just imagine them there on the shore of Lake Galilee.
The disciples have finished eating the breakfast Jesus had fixed for them.
and Jesus and Peter decide to take a stroll by the lake.
As they are walking Jesus stops and turns to Peter and asks him,
using Peter’s real name:
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”
Imagine what might thoughts might have went through Peter’s mind.
“Do I love you more than these?
What does he mean?
Is he asking me if I am prepared to give up my livelihood as a fisherman?
Is he asking me if I love him more than my friends love him?
Or is he asking if I love him more than I love my friends?
Why in God’s name is Jesus asking me this?
And why is he calling me Simon?
After all, he gave me the name Peter, the rock.
He called me the rock.
Now I know I was anything but a rock during his trial and crucifixion – so maybe he is chiding me for my failures.
I don’t know.
I just don’t know.
But I do know that I love him,
and in spite of all evidence to the contrary,
I love him more than anything or anyone else.”
And so Peter gave a simple answer,
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
And Jesus replied, “Feed my lambs.”
And then Jesus asked Peter again,
“Simon, son of John, Do you love me?”
And again
Peter replied,
perhaps with growing concern,
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
And again Jesus replied,
“Tend my sheep.”
And then for a third time, Jesus asked,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Peter, by now distressed that Jesus had asked not once or twice, but three times, answered,
“Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”
And again Jesus replied,
“Feed my sheep.”
Of course, we all know that it was three times Peter had denied knowing Jesus on that cold, dark night of betrayal a few weeks before..
And now three times Jesus has asked his question about love,
and in reply to Peter’s answer,
Jesus has also told him three times to take care of his sheep,
his lambs, his followers.
In other words, Jesus is telling Peter that if Peter really loves him, then he will show his love by what he does.
Peter will show his love by giving his life to tending the lambs and sheep of Jesus’ flock.
As William Barclay points out in his commentary on this passage:
“We can only prove that we love Jesus by loving others.”
And, of course, this is what Peter did with the rest of his life.
From that moment on the beach to his death,
Peter showed his love by doing all that Jesus had asked him.
And when he came to the end,
Peter, like Jesus whom he loved so much,
was able to give even his life as a sacrifice of his love.
Peter, through his life, showed to Jesus and to the world the truth behind his claim to love Jesus.
In fact, I would say that in his life,
Peter actually showed Jesus himself to those around him,
The truth behind what I am saying is simply this:
We become what we love.
If we look lovingly at anything for long enough,
we take on its characteristics.
It is said that our faces are maps of our living and loving.
And I think there is something in this.
It is often said, for instance,
that people seem to resemble their pets.
And, on a more serious note, a husband and wife who have loved each other for a long time begin to look like each other.
That’s why we must be careful who or what we love,
for we take on it’s appearance.
And so I ask you,
“Who or what do people see when they look at you?”
Do they see Jesus, or do they see someone else?
Do they see Christ’s love, or do they see something else?
And we have to be careful who or what we love,
because our loving determines our living.
And to truly love,
to love as Jesus loved,
to love as Jesus would have us love,
means to give one’s self away.
To give without counting the cost,
as God has given to us.
It is easy to sing the words, “Oh how I love Jesus.”
It is much, much harder to live out your love.
But that is where the power of the resurrection comes in.
Olive Burns, in her novel Cold Sassy Tree has one of the characters in her book ask his grandfather about Jesus rising from the dead.
“Gosh Grandpa, You mean you don’t Jesus rose from the dead?”
“I’m a sayin thet did he or didn’t he ain’t important son.
What’s important is thet when the spirit-a Jesus Christ come down on them disciples later,
they quit settin round a-moanin and a-tremblin,
and got to work,
They wairn’t scairt no more,
and the words they said and the things they did had fire in’m.
Compared to a miracle like thet,
Jesus rollin’ back a dang rock and flyin off to heaven ain’t nothin.
and thet same miracle is still a happenin right here in Cold Sassy, in July of nineteen aught-six.
A crippled person or a invalid, or the meanest thief of most despairin misfit,
why, if can ketch aholt of the spirit of Jesus Christ,
he can quit bein scairt and be like risin from the dead.
Once his soul gits cured,
no matter what his body’s like,
why he can start a new life.
Through Jesus Christ we already have new life,
and because of this when he asks us,
“Do you love me?”
We can answer,
“Yes, Lord, you know we love you.
You have given us all that have and made us who we are.
Our lives are yours. Of course we love you.”
And we can truthfully say this because we know that through Jesus Christ and his continuing presence with us,
we have the strength to live out our love,
no matter what it entails.
This morning, Jesus asks all of us a question,
a simple question: Do you love me?
If our answer is yes,
yes, Lord, we love you,
then we have no choice but to show him,
to show him our love through our words, yes,
but even more importantly, by what we do.
Luke 13:31-35
On that same day, some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, “Get away from here and leave this place, for Herod intends to kill you.”
Jesus said to them, “You go and tell that fox, ‘Look, today and tomorrow I cast out demons and perform healings, and on the third day I will complete my work.
Nevertheless, I must journey today, tomorrow and the next day, because it is unacceptable for a prophet to die outside of Jerusalem.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent unto you! Have often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her young ones under wing, but you would not!
Behold, your house is left unto you desolate, and truly I say to you, you shall not perceive* me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”
*see, but more like perceive, understand, discern, or know.



