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Proper 22A-20
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

Mt. Sinai was wrapped in smoke. Thunder and lightning and a thick cloud covered the mountain. A blast of a trumpet so loud it made all the people tremble. (Exodus 19:16). The people were afraid and stood at a distance when God handed down the Ten Commandments to Moses. They are rules to live by, wise guidance for life, an extravagant promise, a simple covenant built on trust. Love God. Love people. Love people in order to love God. Love God in order to love people. The view from Mt. Sinai must have been breath taking.

Fast-forward twelve hundred years to Jesus. The plan that began with Abraham and Sarah continuing through Moses on Mt. Sinai had run aground. We hear Jesus explain to the temple elders, “Listen to another parable!” he told them. The nation of Israel is like a well-appointed vineyard. God provided them with all they needed and more. God placed the whole enterprise into their hands. They are a privileged people. Their whole life, therefore, is really about just one thing: the call to tend and nurture the vineyard, cultivating and caring for God’s people so they might flourish and bloom and become a blessing to themselves, and to others, and to God, a light to the nations revealing God’s grace to the world. Yet the religious leaders exploited and mistreated God’s people — the people of Israel, God’s “vineyard.”

Jesus’ parable exposes the corruption of the religious elite and condemns their obsessions with privilege and power. The chief priests and elders are like the wicked tenants. They abuse their authority, dishonor God’s house, and mistreat God’s messengers. They killed the prophets and now would kill God’s son. Likewise, the wicked tenants in Jesus’ parable meant to put an end to our whole story. But the cross of Christ proved to be a new beginning.

This week, Christians around the world celebrate the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, commemorating the life of a 12th century monk whose values of nonviolence, simplicity, and care for creation become more important with each passing year. In honor of St. Francis we bless our pets and pray for all God’s animals in worship this morning. His graceful, animal loving image adorns many of our homes, including my own. I read that Francis has become of the most popular lawn ornaments sold in America today. And yet it is hard to think of a more radical Christian witness.

The joyful beggar who so famously loved animals and nature, chose simplicity and poverty over status and comfort. He lived in a simple, shared, and non-violent way that shouted good news and joy to the world. Jesus accused the religious leaders of his day of yielding wild, sour grapes. What harvest are we gathering from the collective vineyard of our lives, our community?
We stand at a crossroads. Which way will we go? Like the children of Israel at Mt. Sinai, or the disciples at the foot of the cross, we look to the future with fear and trembling.

“In April of this year, National Geographic published a “flip” issue of their magazine — basically, two issues in one — to explore two starkly different futures for our planet. One half of the magazine presented the worst-case scenario: what Planet Earth will look like in fifty years if we do nothing substantive about climate change.
The writer described a grim, dangerous world of mass extinctions, searing forest fires, deadly heat waves, fierce storms, and widespread suffering for the human race.
The other half portrayed a more hopeful, verdant vision: what Planet Earth could look like in fifty years if we harness our time, ingenuity, resources, and technology now to undo at least some of the damage we have already done. In this scenario, we would find sustainable ways to feed ourselves. We’d clean up our oceans, rivers, and lakes. We’d provide carbon-neutral energy for all. We’d reimagine our homes, streets, cities, and corporations in light of the most pressing needs of the environment. We’d begin to reverse climate change, and prevent many, if not most extinctions. ‘It’s impossible to know who is right,’ Susan Goldberg wrote about the two contrasting visions in her Editor’s Note for the issue. Everything will depend on the decisions we make in the coming days, weeks, months, years, and decades.” (Debi Thomas A Lament for the Vineyard, Journey with Jesus, 9/27/20)

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child” (I Corinthians 13:11). I admit, I used to think we had things pretty well figured out. There is a great awakening today at how much our lives could be better and how urgently we need change. Not only for the planet, but also for gender equality among all our siblings in Christ and justice for all God’s children of color.

Sometimes I feel this generation is like Moses on top of Mt. Nebo—that other mountain. There God showed him the whole promised land while knowing he would never be allowed to walk there. (Deuteronomy 34:1). It feels as if on January 20th we will either be in one world or entirely in another. Once the thunder, cloud, smoke, and trumpet blasts of the election season are finally over we shall we whether the promised land will be for us a reality or remain just a dream. The decisions we face are rarely so urgent and consequential as they are now. It is understandable how we might confuse the question about our future with the outcome of the election. We forget how long has been at this. The moral arc of the universe is very, very long but it bends towards justice. The children of Israel crossed over Jordan as a people. It didn’t matter about Moses. God raised up new leaders from the people, by the people, for the people. It was the people’s work to enter the promised land, to cultivate it, and sustain it. It is our work, regardless of who sits in the oval office, to extend the promise of God’s grace to all people now.

In fact, we already have one leader, one lord, one God of all. God’s money is on the human race. God is heavily invested in you. Who–or what—is your money, your time, your talents riding on? We heard Jesus say that we are stewards. We are privileged and most richly blessed. Let us join hands and welcome the future, as full partners with God. Look, together we enter into a new land of promise where the lives of all, including and every creature, may flourish through the abundance of God’s amazing grace.

Proper 22C-19
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

“Lord, increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5). Jesus and the disciples make their way from Galilee to Jerusalem. They walk. Jesus talks. The disciples are taking notes. Jesus said, “You cannot serve God and wealth” (Luke 16:13b). ‘Offer forgiveness to everyone who asks –not seven times, but seventy times seven!’ (vs. 4). They’re starting to feel inadequate. Have we all been there?

Earlier, when they returned from their mission trip with the 70, they felt powerful and filled with joy. But now the thought of living up to Jesus’ expectations fills the disciple’s with fear. They’re painfully aware of what they lack. We need more faith, more people, more resources, more strength! (As we prepare the 2020 budget, I certainly can relate to that.)

Yet, Jesus knew it was not going to play out that way for the disciples. Even what little they had would soon be taken away. He would be crucified, die, and be buried. How do we apply this lesson to our lives today?
Jesus’ brusque reply to the disciple’s earnest request for more faith is mixed with judgment and hope. ‘If you had faith the size of a tiny mustard seed, you could move mountains and mulberry trees’ (v. 6). Episcopal pastor and author Barbara Brown Taylor wrote, we waste a great deal of time and energy looking for the “key to the treasure box of More.” All we lack, she argues, “is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need. The only thing missing is our consent to be where we are.”
Jesus is frustrated the disciples are looking at faith all wrong. “More” faith isn’t “better” faith. Faith isn’t a thing. It’s not a noun but a verb. Faith is trust. When my daughter Leah was a toddler the stairs in our house were long and very steep. I fell on them once or twice myself. Faith is what Leah shockingly bestowed upon me one evening as I was climbing up those stairs. She was about two years old when she came running and jumped from the top step into my arms.

Jesus reminds us ‘you have faith already.’ It’s not about proportion. It’s not a recipe, or incantation, but an invitation. Go! Live according to what you have seen, heard, and know. That is all. That’s enough. That’s the key. Just do it.

While the good people of Bethlehem slept quietly in their beds, turning a cold shoulder to a young family in need, our savior was born in a manger attended by humble animals. The prophet Isaiah writes, “The ox knows its owner and the donkey its master’s crib; but Israel does not know, my people do not understand” (Isaiah 1.3).
And from Job, we read this sage advice: “…ask the animals, and they will teach you; the birds of the air, and they will tell you; ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being” (Job 12:7-10).

For a lesson in faith, look no further than your pets. The animals that love us are here today. The spiritual wisdom of all God’s creatures is a recurring theme in the bible.

Carlo Carretto (1910–1988) was a member of the Little Brothers of Jesus, a community of contemplatives based on the spirituality of St. Francis of Assisi.Carretto describes Francis’ experience with a hungry old wolf who had been terrifying the people of Gubbio and preying on their livestock.

According to legend, Francis went out to meet the wolf armed only with love. The townspeople were sure the wolf would eat Francis. But Francis simply considered the needs of both the wolf and the community. He discerned that the wolf was too old to hunt wild animals and just needed to eat, while the people needed safety for themselves and their animals. Francis proposed that the wolf be given food each day, and the wolf agreed to leave their sheep and chickens alone.

Carretto writes in Francis’ voice: “No, brothers [and sisters], I was not afraid [to meet with the wolf]. Not since I had experienced the fact that my God is the wolf’s God too.” Father Richard Rohr commenting on this story writes, “What is extraordinary in the incident of the wolf of Gubbio is not that the wolf grew tame, but that the people of Gubbio grew tame, and that they ran to meet the cold and hungry wolf not with pruning knives and hatchets but with bread and hot porridge. This is the miracle of love: to discover that all creation is one, flung out into space by a God who is a Father, and that if you present yourself as [God] does, unarmed and peaceably, creation will recognize and meet you with a smile.”(Daily Meditations, St. Francis and the Wolf, 10/6/19)

Welcoming everyone equally with warm and generous hearts may come easily to our pets, but it doesn’t come naturally to us. Jesus pressed the disciples on this point asking them, which of you would say to your slave, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table?’ (Luke 17:7). Well, the answer is no one would. It’s like another story Jesus told, ‘Which of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one, would leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one?’ Nobody would do that either. But God does, and that’s the point.

All we need is here. All we need to become disciples is provided for us. Faith in the fact of God’s grace is the key that unlocks the treasure box of more in life and—God has already given it to you.

Here, at the Lord’s Table, we are welcomed who don’t deserve to be served. Here, Jesus our Master is both host and food. Here, we find rest and comfort to heal our wounds. Here, the faith we received as a gift is reckoned to us as righteousness. Here, we are loved in a way that far exceeds what each of us is capable of. Before our well-being, there is God’s graciousness, before our delight, there is God’s generosity, before our joy, there is God’s good will. (Walter Brueggemann, Awed by Heaven, Rooted in Earth, 137-38) Let all God’s creatures rejoice! Amen.