Dead to Rights, Twenty-Third Sunday After Pentecost, October 27, 2013, Luke 18.9-14

            "I'm only a poor man. But I got to have my rights same as you, see?"

            "Oh no. It's not so bad as that. I haven't got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get your rights either. You'll get something far better. Never fear."

            That snatch of dialogue from C. S. Lewis' Great Divorce nicely captures the essence of Jesus' famous tale. In Lewis' fable, a man who murdered one of his coworkers meets his former boss on the outskirts of Heaven. The boss, who has been hanging out in Hell, thinks something has gone wrong in Admin. "What I don't see is why I should be put below a bloody murderer like you." The short answer is that the homicide asked for mercy while the foreman demanded justice.

            Luke links the story of the dueling prayers with the preceding parable about the obsessive-compulsive widow in two ways. The more obvious is the statement, "And he also told this parable." (v.9) The less obvious is the use of a key word: "legal protection," v.3 and 5, and "justice," v.7 & 8, translate the same Greek word as "justified" in v.14. In the courtroom context of both episodes it refers to legal vindication, having the gavel come down in one's favor. In the first episode righteousness improbably falls on the one who deserves it but cannot enforce it. In the second episode righteousness alarmingly falls on the one who desires it but cannot claim it.

            The point in either case is the shocking reversal of the Kingdom of Heaven.

            If we watch carefully, we can almost see the mafia boss wink at the Sunday school superintendent as the two shuffle toward the exit. "It's not so bad as that," he grins through a two-day growth of stubble, breathing the fumes of last night's bender on the other man's perfect attendance pin. "I haven't got my rights. Who knows? Maybe you won't either!"

Right On!

Doug

Judge Judy vs. Judge Jesus, Twenty-Second Sunday After Pentecost, October 20, 2013, Luke 18.1-8

            In Relfections on the Psalms, C. S. Lewis comments insightfully on the cultural key to the Parable of the Unjust Judge: "There is no danger of appearing in his court against your will: the difficulty is the opposite - to get into it."

The poor woman has had her little strip of land - room for a pigsty and a hen-run - taken away from her by a richer and more powerful neighbor. And she knows she has a perfectly watertight case. If once she could get it into court and have it tried by the laws of the land, she would be bound to get that strip back. But no one will listen to her, she can't get it tried. No wonder she is anxious for "judgment."

            Anxious indeed: The Greek word for judgment, vindication, righteousness appears in some form five times in this compact plot. (v.3,5,6,7,8) Recall Absalom's pickup line as he seduces Israel to rebellion: "See, your claims are good and right, but no man listens to you on the part of the king." (2 Sam 15.3)

            Jesus here uses antithesis to portray a God active and aggressive on behalf of the powerless. Our Lord holds out the hope of a world where the evicted homeowner finally mounts the witness stand while the CEOs of Freddy and Fanny slouch in the dock. Prayer Mirandizes the marginalized: It pays the divine retainer for the best Mouthpiece in the profession and the Almighty places it only at the disposal of those who have no other hope.

            The context of this story, coming as it does in the slipstream of a prophecy of judgment (17.22-37), expands its meaning beyond the very valid application to private prayer. When God lifts up the gavel the voices of the murdered cry from their mass graves against the dictators who slew them silently and out of sight. When God calls the court to order the unheard cries of unborn infants finally wail in the ears of a society that chose sterile and surgical convenience over the incalculable costs of life. When God unseals humanity's indictment the tortured creation finds a human tongue to tell truth to industrial exploitation.

            So rejoice! God's courtroom takes the shape of a cross and Calvary promises that we will not forever cool our heels in the anterooms of authority. But lest this parable trick us into sinking back on the luxury of our own merits, Jesus swiftly picks up the favorite theme of the previous parable as he launches into the next: "He also told this parable to some people who trusted in themselves that they were righteous." I dare not come into the courtroom of eternity with any evidence apart from the saving grace of God.

What Can Wash Away My Sin?

Doug

Politics and the Pulpit, Twenty-First Sunday After Pentecost, October 13, 2013, Jeremiah 29.1, 4-7

            "Most political sermons," observed C. S. Lewis, "teach the congregation nothing except what newspapers are taken at the Rectory."

            Lewis was right, of course: For instance, no one really needs to know what I think about the current shutdown of the federal government. Lewis was wise enough, however, to note in the same paragraph that faith must speak to politics. "The closest I can get to a settlement of the frontier problem between them," Lewis decides, "is this: - that Theology teaches us what ends are desirable and what means are lawful, while Politics teaches us what means are effective."

            Jeremiah the prophet presents a case in point as he engages in a debate conducted by a series of letters-to-the-editor. (v.1, 24, 29, 31) He speaks a word from God but sends it in the official dispatch case. (v.3) He addresses theologically an issue that is controversial politically: the return of Israel from exile. He claims the spiritual pole-position in a demolition derby over how quickly God will act on Israel's behalf. (Chapters 27-28).

            Perhaps, without revealing whether we subscribe to the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal, we can use Jeremiah's message to gain insight into the delicate but necessary matter of living for the Kingdom of Heaven as citizens of planet earth. The prophet hammers away at two terms in this passage: "exile" and "welfare." The former occurs three times (v.1, 4,7), the latter twice (v.7).

            "Welfare" translates the Hebrew word shalom and means "peace" in a far fuller sense than the mere absence of armed conflict. Jeremiah urges Israel to contribute positively to this alien society by raising crops and raising kids. He subtexts a backhanded prohibition of revolt. (v.21-22) He hoses down the wildfire predictions of a swift apocalypse and instead urges lifelong stewardship of the resources at hand. (v.10)

            But he balances calls for shalom with reminders of exile. He never addresses his readers as citizens of Babylon but always as ex-patriots from Israel. He urges them to make homes, but not to feel at home. He encourages them to play by the rules while reminding them of their true Ruler.

            Welfare and exile: the two compass points by which the believer navigates this in-between life. Christians may honorably differ as to what course makes for present peace, but we can never let our reading of Revelation excuse us from serving our society. Again, Christians come from all nationalities but as universal exiles we can never declare that one country possesses Most Favored Nation status. Patriotism might call for revolution and jingoism might tempt to triumphalism, but the Word of God insists that we hold only temporary work visas.

            It is worth noting that Peter and Paul, the two New Testament writers who voice the clearest call to Christian citizenship (Romans 13.1-7, 1 Peter 2.13-17), endured execution when they drew the line between conformed behavior and compromised belief, and that Jeremiah himself ultimately chose exile with Israel over honor in Babylon. (Jer 40.1-6) Welfare and exile: The Christian exists to bless temporarily while never investing permanently.

I Pledge Allegiance,

Doug