As the Pages Drop 

In the movies or on TV in the old days

the passage of time

was marked by

pages falling from a calendar on the wall.

As the last page of this year

is about to drop

the mind pauses

to review what was written on each completed page.

Gratitude arises for accomplishments:

the list of books read

challenges overcome

repurposed wood as bridge, ramp, shed & widgets.

Contemplation continues in celebration

of those whose lives

brought blessings and lessons

now cherished in loving memory.

Thankfulness tumbles in torrents

for present companions

whose presence beside us

is welcomed as a gift from above.

On the morning of this year’s last day

awaiting tomorrow’s dawn

past blessings provide hope

"For all we're about to receive."

James E. Thyren

December 31, 2022

“for all we’re about to receive.”

 Walking in the Light

“The

light

shines in

the darkness,

and the darkness

did not overcome it.”[i]

So says the Gospel of John.

With our Advent candles ablaze

to poke holes in December darkness

our world’s need for that overcoming light

is evidenced by bombs raining down in the

evil attempt to plunge a nation into darkness.

Our nation’s need for heaven sent illumination

is communicated in the sad, all-too-frequent reports

of gunfire bringing death to people trying to enjoy life.

Our own soul’s need for Christ’s light is revealed by all that

weighs our hearts down: disappointment, disillusionment, despair.

“Come,

let us walk

in the light of the Lord!”[ii]

The prophet Isaiah’s invitation,

issued to people in darkness long ago,

is a timeless summons to the privilege of pilgrimage.

The seer said it after picturing a purposeful procession

to begin on a day when “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be

established as the highest of mountains, and shall be raised above the hills.”

The envisioned voyage pictured as a human stream flowing from every nation

shouting together their journey’s goal and purpose:

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,

that he may teach us his ways

and that we may walk in his paths…”[iii]

We too are called to walk in the light of the Lord and to make it our purpose

to learn the Lord’s ways and walk in the paths the Christ blazed.

We are do so on the strength of the witness of those who have gone before us:

“though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me”[iv]

May your path be lit by the Light darkness cannot quench!

James E. Thyren

December 2022

---

[i] John 1. 5
[ii] Isaiah 2. 5
[iii] Isaiah 2. 3
[iv] Psalm 23. 4

[iv] Psalm 23. 4

 

Still the One – A Sermon based on Matthew 11. 2-11 –preached at Covenant Presbyterian  Church, Scranton, PA on December 11, 2022 

Jill Duffield, the former editor of The Presbyterian Outlook, offers a modern image to help us live with today’s readings from Isaiah and Matthew.  She says reading these words from scripture “brought to mind a recording of a 9-1-1 call,” because they gave her “a sense of a calm stranger on the other end of a panicked plea for help.”[i]

            “We have heard those recordings of two desperate voices,” writes Duffield, “one laced with fear and pain, the other methodically asking questions, staying on the line, giving instructtion, reminding the traumatized other that someone is on the way to intervene, to bring assistance, to rescue and to save.  These readings bring forth those intense emotions: danger is present, but we aren’t left alone to face its wrath…” they “offer the reassurance that as desperate as the situation may be, help is right now on the way, so hang on and hang in and don’t lose hope.”[ii]

            When Isaiah took on the role of 9-1-1 operator, the people of Israel were in exile. Their depor-tation had taken place in large part because of their willingness to leave the ways of God behind while embracing the spiritual practices of their neighbors. They had been hauled away from everything familiar. Having neglected to build up their spiritual reserves to keep going when the going got tough, they were at a loss as to how to reconnect with the only source of strength and help that can be counted upon.

            Yet someone had a little address book tucked a way and in it they found a number to call, and when Isaiah in the Emergency Call Center answered, he had words of reassurance to share. “The changed times you are experiencing will not last forever. A new springtime for people of faith will come around in its season, and the hopeless landscape that breaks your heart will begin to blossom. Watch for the crocus to emerge from the ground!”

            Calmly, steadily, the prophet offers instruction to the listening ears on the other end of the line: “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear!’ Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come to save you.”

            The caller breathes a little easier having heard that all is not lost; there is help to face it all.  “Hang on, hang in there, don’t lose hope. Help is on the way.” 

            Though written long ago, the prophet’s words come to us as if they were penned yesterday. Living in these times when the Christian church as we know it is in transition, and the shape of Christendom as it will be is still unknown, the prophet’s counsel to strengthen and encourage one another is timely. God is still at work. Get in on it. Don’t sit there; do something.

            When the going gets tough, those who have endured and survived hard times have gifts to offer those who lack such experience. Back when vaccinations against Covid began to be available my forty-something niece asked her ninety-something grandmother if she remembered what it was like to live before the polio vaccine. My mother responded by telling the story of what a relief it had been after her mother and aunt dragged five young cousins to the local hospital to line up for their shots. 

Our been there/done that stories can serve to “strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees” near-by. The Church with a capital “C” and every congregation with a small “c” have endured ups and downs and times of transition. Sharing the stories is a way to open hearts to remember that the God never gives up on us.  As the beloved hymn reminds us: “Our God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come.” One day you may be the encourager; on another you may be in need of the pep talk.  It is one of the ways we can help each other along the way.

When John the Baptist dialed 9-1-1 by sending his disciples to ask his question of Jesus, it was not quite the panicked call of one seeking to be talked through CPR while performing it on a loved one. John’s call was more like the call to Tech Support when the program you downloaded or the appliance you purchased is not working the way it should.  You thought it would do this, but instead it does that, and you want to know, “did I order the right item, or is there another that better meets those expectations.”

            When we meet John the Baptist in his prison cell in Matthew, he becomes less of a cardboard cut-out figure. Gone is the fiery preacher who attracted people to the wilderness. Gone are the confident ultimatums. Gone is the demand to “bear fruits that befit repentance.”

            As Lutheran pastor Katie Hines-Shaw puts it: Instead of the open air, sun scorched desert, surrounded by pilgrims, “John finds himself alone in a dark prison cell. Suddenly, he who recognized Jesus as the Messiah seems to harbor doubts. ‘Are you the one who is to come,’ John sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “or are we to wait for another?”[iii]

            How did we get from “one who is more powerful than I is coming after me;” to “are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” We get there precisely because John is in prison. Wisconsin pastor Mark Yurs spells it out for us:

            John “has been arrested and jailed as a political enemy of King Herod.  Prison can put doubt into anybody’s heart.  It is easy to believe in God in the bright sunlight when all is joyful and free, but let the iron bars of difficulty slam shut and doubt lurks in the darkness. ‘Are you for real Jesus?’ ‘Can religion matter in my case, in my condition, with my concerns, or has it reached the end of its usefullness?’ Hard experiences, like John’s prison bars press such questions upon us.”[iv]

            Herod’s prison accommodations were nothing like the jails and prisons that dot the land-scape around here. There were no uniforms or bedding provided and laundered. No meals either. One’s needs were met by family and friends, or not at all. John’s disciples would have been his lifeline, his support system, his link to what was going on outside those prison walls.

            With the meals they brought, John’s disciples delivered news of what Jesus was doing.  They told John the stories the Gospel of Matthew recorded in the chapters leading up to our reading.  Katie Hines-Shaw sums it by noting: “In the preceding chapters of Matthew, Jesus has cleansed a leper, caused the lame to walk, restored sight to the blind, and raised the dead. Surely John knows all these stories.”

            She continues: “He may also know that this litany of miracles follows a pattern set by Isaiah. In today’s first reading familiar themes emerge: the eyes of the blind are opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped; the lame leap like a deer. Jesus’ reply to John references not just this passage from Isaiah but others as well.”[v]

            One of those other passages is Isaiah 61. After speaking of bringing good news to the oppressed and binding up the brokenhearted, Isaiah added: “to proclaim liberty to the captives and to release the prisoners.” That leads some commentators to wonder if John, sitting in the shadows of his prison cell was waiting for Jesus to get with the program and bust him out of jail! 

            In an Advent meditation accompanying one of her many scripture based hymns, Carolyn Winfrey Gillette writes “I wonder how John felt when he heard about Jesus from his own disci-ples, and when he heard that Jesus was not living up to the Messiah job description that he ex-pected the Lord to have?”[vi]

            Bringing John’s disappointment in Jesus closer to home, Carolyn adds: “We know what it is to throw our-selves at a cause, a calling, or a project and then to be disappointed or confused about it. I think about the times when Christians today have been disappointed by other people, by circumstances, or by roadblocks to what we believe we are called to do.”[vii]

            At the heart of John’s disappointment with Jesus are unfulfilled expectations.  Montague Williams explains: “While his main task is to point people to Jesus, he (John) generates certain expec-tations of what Jesus will accomplish and how.  John even has a group of disciples who are ready to move in support of Jesus’ upcoming cosmic display of authority.  The problem is that Jesus is taking too long. John has a lot riding on being right about Jesus, but now he is wondering if he is wrong.”[viii]

            The professor narrows the focus further: “Previously, John claimed that the ax was at the root of the trees that bore no fruit (3:10), but Jesus seems to lack the ability to swing. Rather than raising a powerful winnowing fork and throwing chaff into fire (3:12), Jesus’ actions identify him more and more with people who hold zero social power. Healing and forgiving are important and generate a significant following, but John expects the Christ to be doing much more.  As strange as this may sound, John is not sure Jesus is acting in a Christlike manner.”[ix]

            Stanley Saunders puts it more bluntly: “Jesus’ minis-try is strong on healing and restor-ation, but weak on judgment and vindication.  As John sits in Herod’s prison, awaiting death (14.1-12), he may be wondering whether and when the liberation of God’s people from bondage and oppression will really take place. So far, the dominion of Rome and of local leaders like Herod and the Jerusalem priesthood remains undisturbed. What kind of Messiah leaves the forerunner in prison?”[x]

            That leads Saunders to point out that “Today, many Christians have similar question: If Jesus is the one who brings God’s rule to fruition, why is our world still marked by exploitation, injustice, polarization, and violence? Why are we still waiting? How long must we wait? Will Jesus really come to redeem those who suffer, or should we look for another? The answer lies,” he says, “in what one makes of the signs Jesus performs: do we believe that when the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news pro-claimed to them that we are seeing God’s power? Or are we looking for something else?  How is God’s power evident today?  Will we experience the good news as redemption or judgment?”[xi]

            The John we meet in prison is familiar because his doubts resemble those we bring.  The John we meet in prison is recognizable because we have wrestled with the distance between our expectations of Jesus and the kind of savior he turns out to be.  Like the John we meet in prison, it is up to us to reconsider our position once Jesus explains where his priorities and ours part ways.

            Will we, will John, hear the answer Jesus gave as the 9-1-1 message Jill Duffield heard: “Hang on, hang in, don’t lose hope. Help is on the way?”  Matthew doesn’t tell us what John made of the answer Jesus sent him.  At least one commentator points out that in the end of today’s passage Jesus doesn’t condemn John’s doubt. Instead, he confirms John’s role as preparer of the way, going onto call him a great prophet.  Montague Williams concludes by saying: “In this passage, we find that even a prophet committed to holiness who Jesus calls one of the greatest remains a work in progress.  Jesus makes room for John to doubt and grow in faith, understanding, and calling. This is good news for us.”[xii]

            Yes, this is good news! The works Jesus spoke of, fulfilling as they do the promises of Isaiah, all point to lives made whole by the touch of Christ.  Though we are distracted by all the bad news around us, the wholeness restoring work of Christ continues all around us. If we look and listen carefully we’ll discover where it is happening now.

            You might see it at an Advent workshop, where the grandfather whose grandkids are thousands of miles away sits beside the fatherless child who loves having the old man help make an ornament.  You might hear of it in the story of a trucker who was told to find a dumpster for the broken case of steaks refused by the grocer. Instead he stopped at a church, knocked on the door, and asked the pastor if he could pass them along to someone in need. By sundown those steaks were in the hands of the director of a homeless shelter.  You might rejoice at the news that a family member brought low by drug use has been welcomed into a program run by a father and the two sons he rescued from the grip of their addictions.

            Yes, Jesus was the one. John need not wait for another.  Neither do we. He is still the one…and the miraculous thing is that even as we do our Advent waiting, the Lord is already near. He is already here.

            He is in each person who takes the time to help another discover a new way of looking at things. He is in each individual who speaks a kind word to someone who has been deafened by criticism.  He is present in the volunteer who pushes a wheelchair to the activity room. He is visible on that Mitten Tree over there, and as the pile of Angel Tree gifts back there are distributed, opened and cherished.

           Jesus is still the one…and always will be.
           To God be the glory!
            Amen.

[i] Jill Duffield, “Looking into the Lectionary for Dec. 11” 3rd Sunday of Advent – a blog dated Dec. 5, 2016, p. 1
[ii] ibid.
[iii] Katie Hines-Shaw, The Christian Century, November 23, 2016, “Living the Word, Reflections on the Lectionary, December 11, Third Sunday of Advent,” p. 22 
[iv] Mark E. Yurs, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 71
[v] ibid., Hines-Shaw
[vi] Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, God’s World is Changing, ”Ponder Dissapointments,” ISBN 9798362981679, ©Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, 2022, # 21
[vii] ibid.
[viii] Montague Williams, “In the Lectionary,” The Christian Century, Vol. 139, No. 20, December 2022, p. 25
[ix] ibid.
[x] Stanley Saunders, “Third Sunday of Advent, Commentary on Matthew 11.2-11, workingpreacher.com, 2022, p. 1
[xi] ibid.
[xii] ibid., Willliams

 Walking the Lighted Path      First Sunday of Advent      November 27, 2022

    A Sermon preached at Covenant Presbyterian Church, Scranton, PA,
    based on Isaiah 2. 1-5; Romans 13. 11-13; and Matthew 24. 36-44 

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.”[i]

A quote from the poet, Wendell Berry,

from a poem called, ironically, “To Know the Dark.”

I have the quote because I read the poem.

I read the poem because I have a book.

I have the book because I have a friend.

I have this friend because God introduced us.

God introduced us so we might support one another.

We support one another by learning together.

Between lectures while learning together

in a Seminary chapel I bought the book

that contained the poem that yielded the quote:

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.”

How nicely the quote pairs with the summons of Isaiah:

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”[ii]

The first Advent Candle is ablaze over yonder,

it’s little light shining to overcome the darkness—

its singular glow a reminder

of the Light of the World

sent by God out of love for us all.

Our world’s need for that overcoming Light

is evidenced by bombs raining down

in the attempt to plunge a country into darkness.

Our nation’s need for divine illumination

is communicated in the all to frequent report

of gunfire bringing death to people enjoying life.

Our own Soul’s need for the Lord’s Light

is revealed by all that leads to heavy hearts:

disappointment, depression, disillusionment, despair.

So we hear the summons and respond

to the choice shared by wisdom birthed by experience:

"Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.”

“To walk in the light,” “to go in the dark with a light,”

these are words picturing a pilgrimage.

Those who make a pilgrimage are not the same at the end

as they were in the beginning or any place along the way.

Isaiah had a vision of people proposing a pilgrimage.

It wasn’t a Sunday afternoon ride in the country.

The envisioned voyage was a passage with a purpose:

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,

to the house of the God of Jacob,

that he may teach us his ways

and that we may walk in his paths.”[iii]

Isaiah’s vision is still very much a dream

because the idea of one world “under God,”

seems an improbable, if not impossible fantasy

in our fractious time of deep divisions,

when people were urged to keep the peace

by posting signs at the entrance to holiday feasts, reading:

“Leave your politics on the porch!”

What unbelief dismisses as a dangerous delusion

faith embraces as an awesome aspiration

as humble hearts discover the choice Isaiah offered

to the house of Jacob long ago

is the spiritual GPS direction we desperately need today.

Embedded in the invitation

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

is the prophet’s assessment that the people

were not walking in the light of the Lord.

Implanted in the appeal to his people

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

is the prophet’s hopeful promise

that one day, with hearts and minds awakened,

God’s faithful will choose for themselves

to learn God’s ways and live them by walking his paths.

That same choice is always ours to make.

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

One of the Psalms of Ascent, the pilgrim songs sung

by those on their way to worship on God’s holy hill,

has been heard as a response to Isaiah’s summons:

“I was glad when they said to me,

‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’”[iv]

When I say those words, I don’t hear my own voice.

I hear the smoke-deepened alto of Mickey Oswald,

or the Jersey accented speech of Laura Ingersoll,

or the sisterly duet of Miss Taylor and Mrs. Stiedel,

all of whom took turns using Psalm 122, verse 1, as a

Call to Worship when the primary grade Sunday School

classes gathered to model what the adults were doing

at the other end of the building in the big sanctuary.

“I was glad when they said to me,

‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’”

The gladness portrayed in that phrase is a signal to us

that choosing to learn the ways of God

and walk in his paths is not an onerous obligation.

It is a blessed opportunity. Pilgrimage is a privilege!

Reflecting on the opening words of Psalm 122

as a guide for our Advent journey, Carol Wade writes:

“Our yearly pilgrimage gives us once again an

opportunity to reconsider the way we are living our lives.

Through pilgrimage, praise, and purpose, the Psalmist

reminds us that we are always waiting in hope,

always called to be the light of the world,

and to work on behalf of God’s reign of justice and peace.

We are forever engaged in an act of new creation.”[v]

Note well, the pilgrimage is one we do not make alone.

Both of Isaiah’s invitations, and the one heard in the Psalm

are addressed, not to individuals, but to the community:

“Come, let us go!

That same communal invitation pops up again in the

words the Apostle Paul wrote to the Romans.

And Once again, I am tickled how the Scripture is echoed

by the quote from Wendell Berry:

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.”

Paul writes:

“Let us lay aside the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;

let us live honorably as in the day.”[vi]

Paul uses one of his favorite metaphors to speak

of the same choice Isaiah put before his people.

The metaphor Paul employs is changing clothes.

When one wakes up in the morning,

one lays aside the pajamas or nightgown

that have clothed the body during darkness

and put on the clothes to be worn through the day.

Cynthia Campbell explains it for us:

“As Paul paints the picture,

it is still dark outside when his spiritual alarm clock

goes off; the day is “near” but not quite here.

Perhaps it is that mysterious moment

when the darkness of night begins to give way to shadows,

and there is just enough light to know

that morning is just around the corner.

This is a time of anticipation,

and Paul urges his audience to action.

It is time to get up and get dressed.”[vii]

Paul’s selection of an outfit for the day is very special.

Again we turn to Dr. Campbell for an explanation:

“The clothing Paul wants us to put on is Jesus Christ:

his life, his way of being are the garments

that we are to put on to meet the future.

What concerns Paul here is that we adopt a new

and more honorable way of life.

Put aside partying and drunkenness—

things that dull the senses

or draw attention away from what is really going on.

Put aside quarrelling and jealousy—

things that destroy community and injure relationships…

That new day that God is bringing is a time

when God and humanity will be reconciled;

when peace, justice, and integrity will be

the hallmarks of human society.

What Paul wants is for the Christians to start living now

as though this new day has already begun.”[viii]

“Let us lay aside the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;

let us live honorably as in the day.”

The alternative is stark, and is captured

by the last line of one of Wendell Berry’s Sabbath Poems:

“When people make dark the light within them,

the world darkens.”[ix]

A few years back on a Tuesday afternoon in November

I drove over the river and through the woods to my

Alma Mater to sit in the five-story atrium of

Princeton Seminary’s new library.

The occasion was a lecture by columnist and author

David Brooks.

He began his talk with a couple of stories,

one of which concerned a hot summer afternoon

when he returned to his home after a busy

but productive day.

When he got out of the car,

he walked around the side of the house

and saw his children happily playing ball

on a lovely day in a beautiful yard.

Then he went into the house,

a welcoming space, a haven, a home,

a place that on that day seemed so perfect

that it caused him to pause and give thanks for it all.

It was, he said,

one of those moments when you are aware of grace,

when you are aware of something so wonderful

that you in no way deserve or have earned.

It was, he said,

one of those times when you find yourself deciding

to live a life worthy of that gift.

One of the reasons he told that story

was to awaken us all to be on the alert

to recognize such moments in our own lives

and choose to live worthily of them too.[x]

In that book of poems I bought while my friend and I

attended a lecture series at another divinity school

is another poem that speaks of that same idea

of choosing to be worthy of our blessings.

The poem is called: “Prayer After Eating:”

I have taken in the light

that quickened eye and leaf.

May my brain be bright with praise

of what I eat, in the brief blaze

of motion and of thought.

May I be worthy of my meat.”[xi]

“Let us lay aside the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;

let us live honorably as in the day.”

The time to respond to Paul’s spiritual advice

is always now,

as the Gospel reading from Matthew makes clear.

“About that day and hour no one knows,

neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son,

but only the Father.

Keep awake therefore,

for you do not know on what day the Lord is coming.”

Jesus, as Matthew presents him to us

has his own way of saying

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

Contemplating it all, a pastor from Wisconsin

finds a reason for relief in the midst of

the second coming talk of Jesus in our gospel text.

The relief he finds comes with the recognition that

“uncertainty is a condition of even the best biblical faith.”[xii]

If Jesus doesn’t know, and the angels don’t either,

Mark Yurs says, “It is a relief to know Christ

does not expect us to know everything.”

And yet, Jesus has his own way of inviting us, like Paul to

“lay aside the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;”

and to “live honorably as in the day.”

My Wisconsin colleague puts it this way:

“We are not expected to know everything,

but we are expected to do something.

The Jesus of the verses before us calls persons

to a life of work in the spirit of wakefulness.

Work in this sense means activity here and now.

Biblical faith as Jesus envisions it is not

so concerned with otherworldly matters

that it neglects this world’s affairs.

Matthew’s Jesus has an eye on what is to come

and believes something decisive is going to happen

in the future, but he keeps attention focused

on the present day and the needs of the hour.

We find this in the manner in which he directs people

to the field, the mill, the daily grind,

the ordinary places of human endeavor where life is lived.

This region of the mundane is where faithfulness happens

and it is not to be neglected.”[xiii]

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord…”

in the shop and behind the counter,

in the kitchen and on the street corner,

at our desk through our keyboard strokes,

and as we participate in acts of kindness and charity.

“Let us then lay aside the works of darkness

and put on the armor of light;

let us live honorably as in the day…”

while doing the laundry and raking the yard,

when little eyes are watching and tender ears listen,

when we’re in the stands at the game

and when we gather with family and friends

to give and receive gifts

and feast around a holiday table

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.”

Know the light,

wear the light,

share the light,

walk in the light,

wherever you are

in whatever you do

and in all that you say.

Amen.

[i] Wendell Berry, “To Know the Dark,” New Collected Poems, (Berkeley, CA, Counterpoint Press ©2012), p. 121
[ii] Isaiah 2. 5, NRSV
[iii] Isaiah 2. 3b-e
[iv] Psalm 122. 1
[v] Carol L. Wade, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 13
[vi] Romans 13. 12c-13a
[vii] Cynthia L. Campbell, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 16
[viii] ibid.
[ix][ix][ix] Wendell Berry, “2007 Sabbath Poems, VI,” Leavings, Poems, (Berkely, CA, Counterpoint, 2010), p. 93
[x] My recollections of a November 2016 Lecture by David Brooks at Princeton Theological Seminary.
[xi] ibid., Berry, p. 169
[xii] Mark E. Yurs, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 23
[xiii] ibid., pp. 23, 25

 

To Learn the Language of Grace            A Sermon preached at Covenant Presbyterian Church,
Luke 19. 1-10                                             Scranton, PA on Sunday, October 30, 2022

    The elementary school playground across the street from our home was in full early afternoon chaos. The “big toy” jungle-gym was teeming with bodies climbing and sliding. In the far corner a game of kickball was being played. In the near corner by the gas meter a gaggle of girls were huddled around someone shedding tears.  Three young ladies circled the circumference of the space chatting while doing their laps.  The cacophony of shouts and screams could be heard over the roar of the lawnmower in my hands grinding fallen leaves with its mulching blade.

            Each time I shut down the machine to empty the bag of shredded leaves into a container I glanced over at a solitary figure standing along the fence to the left of “the big toy.”  Short of stature, wearing jeans and a wool hat under her hoodie on a blustery October afternoon, she stood like a statue. She made no move to join any of the activities. Only once did I see anyone come over to speak to her.

            There was another standing alone leaning against the brick wall of the school.  A third kid in a red sweatshirt sat on the ground where the building and the fence meet.  I wondered if these three kept to themselves by choice or were they being shunned by the others.  The kid in the sweatshirt jumped up and joined others chasing a ball; turned out he was just resting.  The guy leaning against the wall melted back into the mass of miniature humanity mingling on the playground.

            The figure by the fence stood motionless where she had been the last time I emptied the bag of leaves. It wasn’t the first time I had seen someone isolated out there while others run and play.  Some-times there’s a child staring off into the distance, back to all the others.  It wasn’t the first time I had lifted a simple prayer: “Lord, I don’t know what is going on with that one…but you do…so deal with her needs.”

            From the corner by the door into the school came a shrill blast of a whistle signaling recess was over.  The statue raised her hand and pointed in that direction and followed as the children scampered or shuffled to line up. That’s when I realized she was not a loner or an outcast, but a vertically challenged adult…a short person doing playground duty.  As I pulled the starter cord one more time, I laughed to myself at the assumption I had made.  I did not, however, cancel the prayer with a “never mind.”  All of us can use a little prayer on our behalf now and then!

            The moral of the story could be as simple as “you can’t judge a book by its cover.”  Or it could be a cautionary tale about how inaccurate our judgment of others can be when we base them on out-ward appearances or the categories we use to pigeonhole others.  

            In the space of two verses we are provided with three covers to judge Zacchaeus by; three categories to use to sort him into this, that, or the other box.  Luke gives us three handles to carry the bundle of assumptions we’re apt to make about the man who climbed a tree in order to see Jesus.  He was a chief tax collector.  He was rich. He was short in stature.

            When we hear that Zacchaeus was short in stature, it may trigger thoughts of a man with insecurities, like the famous actors known for standing on a box or insisting that leading ladies wear flats to compensate for their lack of height.  Think of the characters played by Danny DeVito, where a quick wit and withering sarcasm allow him to “tower” over the others in the cast.  The wee little man in the Sunday School song may lead us to lump him together with Napoleon or some other historical figure who are remembered for overcoming their closeness to the ground by rising to prominence as a memorable leader. (I am not Putin you on!)

            When Luke labels Jericho’s chief tax collector as being rich, that four letter word can deposit any number of pictures into our memory banks.  This week for instance, as Great Britain welcomed a new Prime Minister to Number 10 Downing Street, pundits worried that this young rich man, married to an even richer wife, could possibly relate to the struggles faced by the average bloke and his Mrs. trying to get by in touch economic times.

            Meanwhile, on our side of the pond, with prices rising in the grocery store checkout line, and the economy mentioned in the political ads that aren’t throwing mud at the other candidate, one won-ders how do “trickle-down” promises land on the ears of those who lost their job when a wealthy em-ployer plugged all the leaks and raised the boards on the dam’s spillway by calling downsizing “right-sizing”? Can anyone lacking necessities relate to those who take luxuries for granted?

In the flow of the Gospel of Luke, Zacchaeus shows up shortly after a certain rich ruler asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus answers by listing a handful of the ten commandments.  The man replied “been there, done that, got the T-shirt!”  Jesus gives him an additional assignment: “Sell all you have and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  When the man heard Jesus’ answer, “he became sad; for he was very rich.”[i]

            That leads Jesus to respond: “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!  Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”[ii] So when we hear there was a man in Jericho who was rich, we’re meant to wonder: Will he slip through the needle’s eye?  Also in the background is the parable about the rich man and Lazarus.  The rich man who had ignored the poor man outside his gates finds himself in tor-ment after death, while observing the poor man resting at Abraham’s side in paradise.  Will Zacchaeus fare any better?

            The odds don’t seem to be in his favor.  In addition to being called short and rich, Zacchaeus is singled out as a chief tax collector.  The word Luke uses for “tax collector” means liter-ally “tax-farmer,” the equivalent of that the Romans called “publicans.”[iii] Bible scholar Christo-pher Hutson explains that Zacchaeus was nothing like an IRS agent:

            “Under the Roman republic (which preceded the empire), private businessmen called ‘publi-cans’ bid on public contracts for various government jobs, including tax collection. …Having bid to deliver to Rome a certain amount, they worked with local officials, who collected within their own districts.  …Publicans were also moneylenders, speculators, and contractors supplying material for the army. Such enterprises provided opportunities for cooking the books, commodities speculation, side deals, graft, and extortion to defraud Rome, local officials, fellow investors and average citizens.”[iv]  Hutson concludes: “Zacchaeus, then, was a Jewish businessman involved in large contracts with Roman businessmen.  Many would have viewed him as collaborating with the foreign occupation and profiting from the misery of other Jews, which is why ‘publicans and sinners’ are routinely lumped together.”[v]

            To borrow a line from a Wendell Berry poem, Zacchaeus was numbered among those of whom it can be said: “Their pockets jingle with the small change of the poor.”[vi]

            Zacchaeus: short guy; rich man; corrupt collaborator. Have we got him pegged, or what? May-be, maybe not!  Remember where we started? “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”  Our judgments of others can be wildly inaccurate when we base them on outward appearances or the categories we use to pigeonhole others. There may be more to the encounter between Zacchaeus and Jesus than meets the eye. 

There’s a chance the chief tax collector is not the black hatted villain the crowd despises. Christopher Hutson points to ambiguities in the translation of what Zacchaeus said to Jesus after he climbed down from his perch in the Sycamore tree.  Providing his own translation, Hutson asks: “When Zacchaeus says ‘Half my possessions I give to the poor,’ is he describing his customary practice or turning over a new leaf?  When he says, ‘If I have defrauded anyone, I repay fourfold,’ is he admitting his guilt or pledging to audit his books for errors?”[vii]

            Cameron Murchison explores this line of thinking further, noting how choice of words when translating from Greek to English is crucial.  He notes: “While English translations of Zacchaeus’s statements to Jesus variously render his words about ‘giving’ and ‘restoring’ as future or present tense, the Greek verb in use…is certainly capable of being understood as customary action in the pre-sent.”[viii]  This raises the same question Hutson asked: is the story recording an “account of personal generosity as an act of repentance…(a) promise of new behavior upon being confronted with the embodied grace of God in Jesus—or is it a descriptive account of his existing practice about which he simply tells Jesus.”[ix]

            In other words, is the story following the typical Lukan pattern of contact with Jesus, repentance of sins and newness of life bestowed? Or is this an instance where we are shown a sinner who is never-theless capable of saintly behavior?  Murchison points out that the crowd who blocks his view and later grumbles about Jesus going to his house are guilty of concluding Zacchaeus is a sinner, “but not necessarily because they know anything about him beyond his occupation and his wealth.  He belongs to a class of people (wealthy tax collectors in the employ of foreign governors) who are as a class regarded as sinners.”[x] View the cover, jump to your conclusions about the content. Name the category, and tailor your perception to confirm what you already believe to be true.

            I heard an interview with an actor who portrayed a drug dealer in a movie based on the real life experiences of one of the screenplay’s authors.  The actor was asked about the complexities of the role which required that he be seen as both a law-breaking purveyor of illegal substances, and at the same time, a positive mentor, acting as a father-figure to a young boy learning to survive. His comments challenge the false dichotomies we often embrace that picture people as either evil through and through or solid gold good citizens.  Reality lies some-where in between with the acknowledgement that we are all capable of being incredibly good one moment and exceedingly bad the next…and sometimes both simultaneously!

            Let that sink in as Cam Murchison digs deeper into the non-traditional interpretation of the dialogue  recorded in the Tax Collector’s home: “If Jesus hears Zacchaeus’s testimony as a statement of how he is currently living his life, giving half of what he has to the poor and restoring any inadvertently defrauded fourfold, then Jesus’ claim that ‘salvation’ has come to this household becomes a statement that human and communal wholeness is evident in its practices.  Whether he has the proper DNA or not, this Zacchaeus is to be regarded as a true ‘son of Abraham,’ participating in the blessings of Abraham, even as he himself has been a blessing to the poor and defrauded.”[xi]

            This new view of Zacchaeus is supported by the curious way the story began. The chief tax collector of Jericho was trying to see who Jesus was.  So intent was he on getting a look at Jesus that he was willing to throw dignity to the wind.  It is not every day that you see a well positioned government official running ahead of a crowd. Even less likely would be that official shinnying up a tree and scrambling out onto a branch to get a glimpse of the person the crowd prevented him from seeing.

            If he really was the lost cause sinner the crowd took him to be, he would probably not put him-self in a place where the visiting man of God would spot him.  More likely he would be cowering in the shadows, if he were to be found anywhere in the vicinity in the first place. Could it be that Zacchaeus went to all that trouble because he had heard that Jesus was the first religious person he’d ever en-countered who was likely to see beyond his occupation and his wealth and discover the man who was doing his best to live a life worthy of his heritage as a son of Abraham?       

            From his perch in the tree, Zacchaeus is looking down at the man at the center of the crowd.  From the road below, Jesus looks up at the man in the tree. Jesus calls to him by name. Jesus invites himself over to his house.  And instead of a “woe is me, now I’m in for it” slow climb back to the street, Zacchaeus is described as hurrying down to meet Jesus and “happy to welcome him.”  Meanwhile, Luke tells us, “All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”

            Yes he has! Thank God for that, especially if you are willing to admit that missing the mark is a regular part of the way you play the game of life.  All through the Gospel of Luke Jesus is seen leaving behind the company of those who prided themselves on being pure and upright, to spend time with those viewed as outsiders and outcasts.

That’s good news, Cam Murchison tells us, because “Only now we glimpse the possibility that when God so dwells with them, God finds not merely pitiable people desperate for renewal, but at least sometimes people who in their own way have learned God’s way to live to the praise of God’s glory.”[xii] Remember the actor portraying the drug dealer who served as mentor to the young boy? One of his challenges was to portray a man, who for all of his faults, held onto a kernel of faithfulness which led him to pray for the boy.

The late poet, hymn writer and seminary professor Tom Troeger provides us with a helpful way of looking at the different ways Zacchaeus was viewed by Jesus and the crowds in today’s story.  He begins with a situation to which we can all relate:

            “Sometimes when we cannot get another person to understand us, we exclaim in frustration: ‘You and I do not speak the same language!’  We may both be speaking English and even use the same accent and colloquialisms, but the different ways we perceive, process, and interpret reality are at odds with each other.”[xiii]

            Troeger found such a conflict of language in today’s story, noting: “Jesus speaks the language of grace and acceptance to an outcast tax collector: ‘Zacchaeus, come down at once. I must stay in your home today.’ But the crowd speaks a completely different language, an idiom of judgment that cannot comprehend the idiom of grace: ‘Everyone who saw this grumbled, saying ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.’”

            Troeger went on to say:  “Jesus and the world do not speak the same language.  Jesus speaks grace; the world speaks of keeping track of every wrong.  Jesus speaks of pouring oneself out in love; the world speaks brutal force. Herein lies the greatest quandary that Christian preachers face: how do we break through to a world that speaks a different language?”[xiv]

            The challenge for us all is to learn and relearn the language of grace. We need to learn it so we will rejoice when Jesus calls us down out of whatever tree we are perched in. We need to know it so we can speak it to others when they need kindness and compassion, mercy and forgiveness. To learn the language of grace is a gift we can give ourselves so we can share it with the world, so that God may be loved, served and glorified. Let this be our prayer.  Amen.

[i] Luke 18. 18-23
[ii] Luke 18. 24-25
[iii] Christopher R. Hutson, Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, Vol. 2, Chapters 12-24, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), p. 165
[iv] ibid.
[v] ibid., p. 167
[vi] Wendell Berry, from “Look Out,” GIVEN, Poems, (Washington, DC: Shoemaker Hoard, (2005), p. 124
[vii] ibid, Hutson.
[viii] D. Cameron Murchison, Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, Vol. 2, Chapters 12-24, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), p. 166
[ix] ibid.
[x] ibid.
[xi] ibid.
[xii] ibid., p. 168
[xiii] Thomas H. Troeger, Sermon Sparks, (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2011), p.132
[xiv] ibid., pp. 132-3