23 Pentecost, Year C

Proper 26 -- Isaiah 1:10–20; Psalm 32:1–8; II Thessalonians 1:1–12; Luke 19:1–10
A homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Sunday, October 31, 2010.

“WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF HOLINESS?”
(Homily text: Luke 19: 1 – 10)

We begin this morning with a question that each of us ought to ask ourselves regularly: “What do we do when we are in the presence of holiness?

What did Zacchaeus do?

He climbed a tree, for one thing. For another, he repented of his deceitful ways.

I think it’s fair to say that when Zacchaeus first heard that Jesus was passing through Jericho, he was probably just curious to see Jesus. Maybe he’d heard about some of the things Jesus had done as He made His way into town. For one thing, Jesus had healed a blind beggar at the edge of Jericho (see Luke 18: 35 – 43). Maybe Zacchaeus had heard about that, and wanted to see something more like it take place.

We simply don’t know.

But we do know that there was an urgency to Zacchaeus’ desire to see Jesus….Notice that Luke tells us that Zacchaeus ran to get ahead of where Jesus was going to pass by. We also notice that Zacchaeus then climbs a tree to get a better view, since he was a short man.

At this point, we ought to stop for a moment. For to our 21st century sensibilities, neither action (the running and the climbing) seem to constitute anything at all unusual. After all, in our society today, adults regularly run (for fitness). Not many climb trees, however, since it is usually children who want to do those things.

But in the first century, a grown man risked ridicule for running, and more ridicule for climbing a tree. Neither action was likely to bolster a person’s esteem in the eyes of the community back then.

But Zacchaeus sets aside his pride and his social standing (such as it was, considering that he was a chief tax collector) in order to get a better look at Jesus.

At this point, we ought to pause again, and recall what the occupation of tax collector entailed in the first century.

Tax collectors are never most people’s favorite personages in any age. However, in the first century in occupied Palestine, most Jews hated them. The reason was simple: Many tax collectors were Jews who collaborated with the Romans by providing the Romans with the financial means to continue to oppress the Jews and to occupy the Holy Land. Moreover, the Roman system of taxation was rife with the possibility of graft and corruption, for the Romans contracted with a local tax collector, who paid the total amount of tax due in advance. After the payment was made, the tax collector then extracted payment from the residents of his district, and was able to pad the total amount due, keeping the difference between the taxes which were due and the money that was collected. Evidence of the graft and corruption which the system encouraged can be seen in Zacchaeus’ pledge to repay four fold anyone he’d cheated.

No wonder that tax collectors were lumped in with the prostitutes and other “sinners” in the estimation of many people. We hear this in the grumbling of the crowd as Jesus tells Zacchaeus that He will be staying with him that day. They say, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner!”

So, what do we do when we are in the presence of holiness?
This, of course, is the question we began with this morning.

Keeping this question in mind, let’s return to the text, and see what Zacchaeus does.

First of all, as we make our way through the sequence of events as Jesus greets Zacchaeus (who is still up in the sycamore-fig tree), let’s take the time to notice what is not said. The things that we might normally expect to show up in Luke’s recounting of this event are missing. Notice that Jesus never insists that Zacchaeus change his ways, for example. Not one word is reported to us about that. So far as we know, this important aspect of Zacchaeus’ change of behavior is missing entirely from Luke’s account.

Next, notice that Zacchaeus volunteers to do something: He will give away half of his goods to the poor, and he pledges to repay anyone he’s defrauded four fold.

In so doing, Zacchaeus lives out John the Baptist’s instructions (which can be found in Luke 3: 10 – 13) to those who were to give away half of their possessions (John the Baptist said that those who had two coats should share one with someone else in need), and to tax collectors, that they should not collect more than the amount prescribed.

In response, Jesus says that “Salvation has come to this house.”

What’s missing here? How did we get from Zacchaeus’ announcement of his intentions to live a new and better way to Jesus’ announcement that salvation had come to Zacchaeus’ house? After all, Zacchaeus didn’t make a statement of faith, nor did he admit (at least not openly) the mistakes of the past.

As I said a moment ago, I think what’s missing in the text is as important as what’s present.

Notice that Zacchaeus doesn’t say something like, “Lord, I’m sorry I’ve done the things I’ve done. I repent, and ask for God’s forgiveness.” No such statement – or anything like it – is to be found in the text.

But Zacchaeus’ actions constitute evidence of a new, inner reality.

For Zacchaeus’ actions prove that there’s been a change of heart. Maybe Zacchaeus’ conscience bothered him as Jesus came into his house. Maybe it bothered him a lot.

I know that if I’d been in Zacchaeus’ shoes, my conscience would be bothering me! Maybe you would feel the same way.

So, what do we do when we are in the presence of holiness?

Zacchaeus’ actions give us a good pattern to follow:

1. Be willing to set aside our dignity: That’s what Zacchaeus did by running to get ahead of Jesus, and by climbing the tree to get a better look. To get a better look at Jesus, we might just look a little bit like an idiot in the process.
2. Be ready to have Jesus address us personally, by name: Notice that Jesus exercises His divine omniscience to address Zacchaeus by name. Jesus singles him out for special attention. Jesus “seeks out and saves the lost” (see verse 10) as He calls Zacchaeus (and us) by name, each one personally.
3. Recognize the urgency in Jesus’ address: We hear the word “today” (as in “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.”) “Behold, now is the day of salvation,” we read in II Corinthians 6: 2b. A change in our hearts should begin today!
4. Evidence of a change of heart within is shown in the way we live: Certainly, there was a change of heart, a new way of living, that came to Zacchaeus that day. His willingness to change his ways was an outward and visible sign of the reorientation of his heart within.

May we, too, respond to the presence of holiness that Jesus’ presence among us represents, that we may amend our lives, that salvation may be ours.

AMEN.

Pentecost 22, Year C

Proper 25 -- Jeremiah 1: 10 – 19 – 22; Psalm 84: 1 – 6; II Timothy 4: 6 – 8, 16 – 18; Luke 18: 9 – 14

A homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Sunday, October 24, 2010.

“WAGES, OR A GIFT?”
(Homily text: Luke 18: 9 – 14)

Think with me for a moment about the difference between wages and a gift.

When we receive payment for work done, we call that payment “wages”. In Jesus’ day, a common day laborer was paid one denarius per day, that was the prevailing wage.

Today, we still measure – in most cases – wages in terms of time and money. For example, we say that the wage for a given position is “so much per hour”.

A wage is given in direct response to the amount of time that’s been devoted to the work for which it is paid. In the case of a wage, the wage-earner earns his/her monetary payment.

Now, think about a gift for a moment….A gift is something we do not earn. It may be given in response to some aspect of a relationship between two persons or between a person and a group, or between two groups. For example, we give gifts for birthdays, anniversaries, or when people leave a position and go elsewhere, to cite some examples.

We can’t earn a gift. Even if a gift is given in response to something a person (or persons) has done, there’s no direct correlation between the two. The gift is freely given. The gift can’t be demanded, for it isn’t a gift, if it is.

Now, keeping in mind the difference between wages and a gift, let’s turn our attention to today’s gospel text, which is the very familiar Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican (tax collector). This parable is but one example of the treasure trove which Luke alone imparts to us. No other gospel writer provides this parable to us.

Here, we see the Pharisee, first of all, proclaiming his righteous deeds:

• “God, I thank thee that I am not like other men!”
• “I fast twice a week,”
• “I give tithes of all that I get.”

(Notice that Jesus says that the Pharisee is “praying with himself”! The message is clear: The phone line is dead! There’s no one (God) listening at the other end.

Now, contrast the Pharisee’s behavior with that of the tax collector. Jesus says that the tax collector wouldn’t “even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast.” Moreover, the tax collector “stood afar off”.

Finally, the tax collector says to God, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.”

As we analyze the behavior of the two men, we see that the Pharisee is interesting in being paid, rewarded, for his work. That seems to be the clear implication of his actions.

Such an assumption is in keeping with the image that the four gospels paint of the Pharisee movement. We should remember that this group knew the Law of Moses, the Torah, backwards and forwards. They sought to ensure that everyone kept every one of its hundreds of precepts faithfully and religiously. They also seemed to be quite proud not only of their knowledge, but of their accomplishments in doing so. Think of the very unflattering image we have from Jesus’ lips about this sort of religious person: He says that they love to have the best seats in the synagogues and at banquets, they love to be greeted in the marketplaces by their titles, and they love to wear long robes.

On the other hand, the tax collector goes away “justified” in the sight of God, Jesus says.

Why?

The reason is simple: The tax collector’s prayer is the very prayer that creates a relationship between God and us. By praying the tax collector’s prayer, we admit our sinfulness, which separates us from God’s holiness. And, we pray for God’s mercy to be present upon us and within us.

When we admit our spiritual condition, and ask for God’s mercy, then a relationship of love begins between God and us.

Such a love relationship is then created in which gifts flow between God and us.

So, Jesus’ point seems to be that we can’t earn God’s favor.

If the Pharisees and the Scribes missed that point, so too did some of the early Christians.

St. Paul takes pains to underscore the spiritual reality of the nature of our relationship with God when he writes in Ephesians 2: 9 this: “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God – not because of works, lest any man should boast.”

We couldn’t state the formula by which we come into a right relationship with God any better – or more clearly – than that.

We are saved by grace, through faith. And this saving is a gift. We can’t earn it.

As time went along, other Christians also struggled with this reality. In the late 4th and early 5th centuries, a British theologian named Pelagius taught that human beings could respond to God through their own initiative, without God’s grace. Subsequently, others began to teach similar ideas, and we know this heresy by the name of its founder, Pelagianism.

The spirit of Pelagianism is alive and well today: For many think that they can work their way up into God’s grace and favor by their own means and by their own efforts.

Lifting up themselves by their own spiritual bootstraps might be a good way to summarize this sort of an attitude.

As more time went along, Christians during the Reformation era also struggled with the spirit of Pelagianism, as many reformers stood in opposition to the idea that human beings could better themselves in God’s eyes by their own efforts. Indeed, this thread within the Reformation movement was a major one. We would do well not to lose sight of the importance of this thread in the attempts of the reformers in the 16th century to bring the Church back to a right understanding of the nature of the relationship between God and us.

God’s mercy is a gift to us, something that we can’t earn at all (for we have nothing to pay for it with!).

And God’s continuing presence, guidance and support all throughout this life is a gift that continues to manifest itself as time goes along.

In response, we give God gifts. These may be gifts of time, gifts of our talents, devoted to the Lord’s work in this place and elsewhere, gifts of our monetary treasure (this could easily become a stewardship sermon, as we think about our financial support of our parish church’s ministries in the coming year).

Put another way, the basis for our relationship with God is God’s grace, first and foremost. In response, we come to God in faith, trusting in His goodness and mercy, and acknowledging our sinfulness, seen in the light of God’s holiness.

Now, the relationship can be established, for it rests on this foundation.

What follows, then, is an exchange of gifts: gifts that God gives to us, and gifts that we give in response.

There is no accounting measure in place as gifts flow between God and the people that He loves. No measure which might say “I gave you so many gifts, and you gave me so many.”

No.

For if we begin to keep count, then we are in the same position as the Pharisee, for we are demanding payment for deeds done.

May the Holy Spirit bring our hearts to life, that we may see God’s grace clearly, acknowledge our own unworthiness to ask for God’s mercy, and then receive that mercy.

May the gifts then begin to flow between God and us, uncounted, unaccounted, until we see Him face-to-face.

AMEN.

21 Pentecost, Year C

Proper 24 -- Genesis 32:3–8, 22–30; Psalm 121; II Timothy 3:14–4:5; Luke 18:1–8
A homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Sunday, October 17, 2010

“A PRIMER ON PRAYER”
(Homily text: Luke 18: 1 – 8)

“And he (Jesus) told them a parable, to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.” (Luke 18: 1)

Our Lord sets before us today a primer on prayer. In it, we hear the Lord’s instructions about the importance of prayer, about the Father’s willingness to hear our prayers, and about the Father’s continuing care for, and responsiveness to, His people.

Throughout Luke’s gospel account, we read again and again about Jesus’ prayer life. We also have an account of Jesus’ teaching His disciples how to pray, as Luke reminds us about the circumstances of the giving of the Lord’s Prayer (see Luke 11: 1 – 4). The image we have from Luke’s portrayal of Jesus’ life is that He was one who was given to much prayer.

Today’s gospel account calls us to be people of prayer.

So, let’s begin by recalling the circumstances of the early Church to which Luke might have been writing. Let’s also remember our own circumstance as the Church in the 21st century. In my view, the early Church and the Church today face many similar challenges, especially in the area of prayer.

If biblical scholars are correct in their assessment that Luke may have been writing about the period 85 – 90 AD, then it’s possible that the Church to whom he was writing may have been wrestling with deep questions about their place in God’s eternal plans. By the time Luke may have been writing, many in the Church were questioning the idea that Jesus would return in glory very soon. It might have begun to occur to these early believers that Jesus’ return might not occur for some length of time. If so, then the question arises: “What should we be doing, if we (the Church) are going to be here on earth for awhile?”

In connection with this question comes another one: “Has God abandoned us?”

I think this question is a natural one, and it may have been on the minds and in the hearts of many of those early Christians. After all, by the time Luke is writing, some of the early persecutions had already occurred. Christians had paid with their lives the price of their faith. Life in general for Christians in the Roman Empire wasn’t getting any easier as time went by. “Had God abandoned His people?” It seems to be a fair assumption to make that this question was a major concern of those early Christian people.

It’s likely that Luke is addressing just such concerns as these by relating Jesus’ parable to us.

By now, it has been nearly 2,000 years since Jesus walked this earth and taught us about the Father. By now, Luke’s gospel account itself is about 1,900 years old.

Much has changed for God’s people in the interim.

But much has also stayed the same: Living the Christian life isn’t an easy proposition, even in a wonderful country like ours. For one thing, the culture we live in is a thoroughly secular one, a culture that seems to promote and value many of the same behaviors as were found in the Roman Empire. Though we American Christians aren’t paying with our lives the price of our faith, we are still finding ourselves swimming upstream against the current of a secular culture whose values are antithetical to Christian values, much of the time.
On the surface, it may not seem like God answers prayer, or that He is even present in our day-to-day lives.
“Has God abandoned His people?” we ask.
Today’s parable, generally known as the “Parable of the Unjust Judge”, provides an answer. It also provides encouragement, encouragement that we, like those first century Christians, are called to be a people given to much prayer.

Before we consider the aspects of what might constitute a healthy and active prayer life, let’s look briefly at the parable itself.

At first glance, the parable may not seem to make a whole lot of sense.

Jesus uses a literary device in the parable which is known as lesser-to-greater. This device allows the reader or hearer to identify with a common situation, in order to extrapolate the meaning from it and transfer it to the greater, larger situation. Here, then, Jesus uses the example of a judge who “neither feared God nor regarded men” to show that the judge was crooked, essentially. This judge apparently ignored all of the Old Testament requirements for a person to act as judge in legal matters. Regard for the sacred trust placed in judges apparently didn’t phase this unjust judge, not in the least. Concern for God’s sense of justice, and care for God’s people, didn’t seem to matter to this particular judge at all.

And so, Jesus then says that a widow sets her case before this unjust judge. We must recall, at this juncture, the plight of widows in biblical times. In Jewish culture, widows had very little legal standing. In fact, in order to gain legal protections, oftentimes widows would have to have a male relative present their case before a court.

So, it’s clear from Jesus’ parable that the widow has very little leverage with which to move the unjust judge to hear her case, and to grant her legal relief. All she can do is to pester the judge, which she does.

Jesus makes the point that, if an unjust judge will grant consideration to the widow’s request by virtue of her unceasing efforts, then won’t God – who isn’t unjust nor unhearing – grant our requests without pestering? This is the lesser-to-greater movement Jesus intends for us to make.

Exactly. God is much more willing to hear than we are to pray. God is much more willing to grant our requests than we are deserving of such an answer to our prayers. (We have a wonderful collect which expresses these two ideas beautifully: See page 234 in the Book of Common Prayer, 1979. This collect is prayed on a Sunday in early October every year.)

If we can accept the truth of God’s willingness to hear, and His willingness to grant our requests as they are in accordance with His will, then what about the matter of prayer? Are there misconceptions present in our thinking about the nature of prayer? And, for that matter, what might a healthy prayer life look like?

It is to these two questions that we now turn.

We begin with misconceptions that might be present in our attitudes and our approach to the important matter of prayer. Each misconception will be posed in the form of a question.

Where’s that in the book? The Book of Common Prayer is a wonderful tool to aid us in worship, and in prayer. Rich Anglican liturgical worship, which is based on the Prayer Book, can’t be beat for depth and richness of expression, and for a sheer beauty which values a sense of the majesty of God. But there’s a down side to having such a rich prayer resource: We can get so used to using it that we forget how to pray without it. Many longtime Episcopalians stumble when they have an occasion to pray, because they seem to feel they need the Prayer Book to do so.

Of course, the God who is much more willing to hear than we are to pray (as we said a little while ago), is also the God who knows our concerns before we ask (as the Prayer Book also says). These two truths should encourage us to simply give to the Lord our praise, our concerns, and our thanksgivings. So what if our first attempts at saying or praying these things are clumsy? In time, we’ll get better at praying extemporaneously. Practice does make perfect, in this case.

Don’t we need a church? Here, we confront another common attitude: We can only pray in the church building itself. Prayer, according to this attitude, should be an activity that we do when we’re in church. However, I get the impression that we might feel that we don’t need to pray at other times.

In contrast to this attitude, Jesus’ parable, heard today, calls us to be people of prayer, all the time, and in every place. Prayer ought to suffuse our daily lives.

“Father, please pray for me”: Another common attitude is that the clergy have some sort of a “hot line” to God. Coupled with this attitude is one which says that God hears the prayers of clergy more than He hears other prayers.

Nonsense.

For one thing, if we clergy believe that God hears us more than He hears others, then we are in the same spiritual boat as the Pharisee in Jesus’ Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (which we will consider next week). If clergy think they are somehow closer to God than others are, then the truth is that those same clergy are actually farther away from God than others are.

Clergy don’t have a “hot line” to God. All of us have such a “hot line”, and it is available to us 24/7/365. Today’s parable encourages us to make use of our connection to the Father.

One thing that clergy might – and ought – to be doing is to be about the business of prayer. So, we might say that clergy might possibly engage in more prayer that some people do. That would be the only possible difference between laity and clergy: the amount of time and effort spent in prayer.

Now, how might a prayer life be characterized as a healthy one? After all, we don’t want to get into the habit of treating God like the business end of a spiritual ATM machine. You know, the sort of attitude that says, “When you need God, you go, put your prayer access card into God’s ATM prayer machine, put in (the amount of) your request, get it, and drive on with life!”

Unfortunately, many people treat God just that way. They make it seem like the only time prayer is important is when they need or want something, and once they have it, they forget God until the next time some need or difficulty comes along.

But today’s parable calls us to be people of prayer.

How, then, can we maintain a healthy connection to the Father in prayer?

As we suggest to our Junior High youth in our New Beginnings Retreat, here is a recipe for a healthy and balanced prayer life.

It is known by the acronym A C T S L.

A – Adoration: We adore God for who He is: wonderful, awesome, majestic, eternal. This same God also desires to have an ongoing, personal and deep relationship with each and every one of us. So, we adore God for who God is, awesome in power and majesty, yet very near and very present with each individual believer.

C – Confession: We confess to God the ways in which we have fallen short of His standard of holiness, in thought, in word, and in deed. We open our hearts to Him, knowing that He knows us thoroughly and deeply already. We come, seeking forgiveness and amendment of life.

T – Thanksgiving: Here, we remember the many reasons for giving God thanks for the gift of life, the gift of faith, for providing our basic needs on a daily basis, and so forth. (This part of the formula is especially important, for giving thanks to God is often forgotten.)

S – Supplication: We offer our needs and our desires to God, not only for ourselves, but for others whose needs are known to us.

L – Listening: Prayer is a two-way conversation. Oftentimes, we forget to listen, as well as to speak. Listening for God’s voice comes in the quiet and silent times (an important aspect of prayer), and also in regular reading of Scripture, and in the voices of others in the Church. These are just some of the ways God speaks to us.

Finally, our whole lives can be a prayer: We can be a people given to much prayer, prayers that are offered verbally, prayers that are offered silently, short and concise prayers, prayers that are no more than one word or thought, quickly offered, prayers that consist of acts of love and kindness which reflect God’s love and kindness toward us. All of these are ways we can live lives of prayer.

Jesus told them a parable, to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.

May God’s people ever be people of prayer, people who do not lose heart, knowing that God hears the prayers of the faithful, and God abides with His people until the end of time.

AMEN.

20 Pentecost, Year C

Proper 23 -- Ruth 1:1–19a; Psalm 113; II Timothy 2:3-15; Luke 17:11-19
A homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Sunday, October 10, 2010

“SAINT MAKING”
(Homily text: Luke 17: 11 - 19)

Ever think about how a saint is made?

I’d be speaking, of course, of the making of the major, "capital S” saints, people like St. Peter and St. Paul. I’d also be speaking of the "little s” saints, people like you and me.

Here before us today is an event which results in the making of a saint, a Samaritan man who’d not only been healed of his leprosy, but also came into a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

“Jesus, Master, have mercy on us,” they cry out.

Before we get into the process of the making of this Samaritan saint, let’s take a moment to notice a couple of things about the encounter between Jesus and this group of ten men.

First of all, let’s correct something in our Revised Standard Version’s translation. Today, we read “On the way to Jerusalem, he (Jesus) was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers.” The better translation of “ten lepers” would be “ten leprous men” or “ten men who had leprosy”. This is an important distinction, I think, and something we will come back to in a moment.

Second, let’s notice how often the verb “see” is important to the exchange between Jesus and the ten leprous men. Luke tells us that “When Jesus saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests’.” And then, “One of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice.”

Third, we would not be giving Luke due notice if we didn’t take note of the fact that it is the most unlikely of the ten men, the despised Samaritan, who comes back to thank Jesus for his healing. In this respect, the event before us today is very similar to Jesus’ parable about the Good Samaritan.

Fourth, the ten men are outsiders. They are unclean by virtue of their condition.

Now, let’s go to the nature of the encounter between Jesus and these ten men who were afflicted with leprosy. For in the encounter itself, we can learn a lot about the business of the making of saints.

As Jesus enters the village, He is met by the ten men, who (most likely) have seen Him coming.

They may also have heard something about Jesus, for they call out to Him by name.

What they do not do is to do what the Book of Leviticus requires them to do, which is to call out to anyone who is nearby “Unclean, unclean.”

We can speculate about the nature of their greeting, though we can’t be sure why they said what they did. Perhaps they’d heard that Jesus had been healing others, and had not been afraid to come into contact with them.

Or perhaps, as one commentator suggests, they were merely asking for money, since, due to their condition, they were unable to work.

We can’t be sure about the reason(s) for their actions.

But we can be reasonably sure, I believe, that they knew that Jesus could help them somehow, for their appeal is quite personal. It is addressed to Jesus directly.

So, the saint-making begins. It begins with the appeal of the men in need to Jesus, who is the source of help.

Now, we come back to the issue of the ten men with leprosy, or, as it would be correctly translated from the Greek, “ten leprous men.”

Let’s remember that the ten men are men, human beings. They are not merely objects, that is, lepers. Jesus sees the men as men, as human beings, who are worthy of consideration, care and help.

Jesus’ attitude with regard to the ten men differs sharply from the attitude of the Jewish elite of His day, who would have taken great care to avoid the ten men, for fear of becoming unclean themselves. In this respect, the practices of many pious Jews in Jesus’ day would be analogous to the actions of the priest and the Levite in the Parable of the Good Samaritan, the two men who pass by the wounded and beaten man on the other side of the road. Pious Jews of 2,000 years ago would have avoided any contact with the ten men. Here again, the issue of one of being clean, or unclean.

And so, the saint-making continues: Jesus presents the ten men with a test of faith: “Go and show yourselves to the priests,” He says. Of course, Jesus’ instruction is in keeping with the provisions of the Book of Leviticus. A priest had to certify that a person had been healed of their condition.

But notice that no healing has yet taken place!

Luke reminds us that the ten men set off to see the priest, but they are healed only while they are on their way. The first move – made in response to Jesus’ command – belongs to these saints-to-be. They must take that first step in response to Jesus’ command.

Now, the saint-making is complete as the Samaritan – the most unlikely of the ten to act properly (at least by the standards of the Jews in Jesus’ day) – comes back to thank Jesus for his healing.

And Jesus confirms the importance of the role of faith in saint-making, as He says, “Go your way, your faith has made you well.”

What lessons are there for us in today’s Gospel reading?

Perhaps we might reflect on our own saint-making process, as a good place to begin. Recall the steps with me, as we apply them to our own recollection of the saint-making process:

1. We recognize our need, and our inability to help ourselves: We come, like the ten men, calling out to the Lord, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.”

2. Jesus sees us as human beings, and responds: The Lord sees us as men and women, boys and girls. He does not see us as objects. The conditions that are part of our lives do not mask our humanity to God. For example, if a person is one who shoplifts, we tend to call them “shoplifters”, while God would tend to see that person as a person who shoplifts: steals. God – through Christ – is willing to enter into a personal relationship with us, recognizing that no condition that might be present in our lives is beyond correction and healing.

3. We respond in faith: It’s important to put our foot forward, responding to God’s love and mercy which precedes us. Doing so is an act of faith, for the evidence of God’s saving and loving actions may not be noticeable at all, at this point.

4. The relationship is complete as we enter into a deep and personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

We are now saints!

Now, having done these four steps, we are equipped to assist God in making more saints,
sharing what God has done for us in our lives with others.

The saint-making continues!

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.

19 Pentecost, Year C

Proper 21 -- Habakkuk 1:1–13, 2:1–4; Psalm 37:3–10; II Timothy 1:1–14; Luke 17:5–10

A homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Sunday, October 3, 2010

“OTHER DUTIES AS ASSIGNED”
(Homily text: Luke 17: 5 – 10)

Let’s reflect on the gospel text before us this morning, just briefly.

And as I did so this past week, the phrase that kept running through my mind was “other duties as assigned.”

This is a phrase that one encounters in job descriptions. For example, a job description might read something like “The person who has this position will do ____, and ____, and _____, and other duties as assigned.”

Jesus paints a picture the good and faithful servant who does one task that the servant is assigned by the master, only to the n be given a totally different task.

Maybe Jesus is telling us that we have to be flexible!!!!

He might ask us to do one thing, and then another, something totally different.

At any rate, let’s consider some of the implications of what He has to say.

The first thing we might consider is the nature of our relationship with the Lord….it is one of mutual servanthood. In Luke, chapter 22, we hear Jesus say that He has come among us as one who serves. So Jesus comes as servant. Of course, He is also Lord. So, if we are to be comprehensive in our understanding of who Jesus is, we need to understand that He is, first of all, the Lord. But he is also the Lord who voluntarily sets aside His lordship to some degree, in order to come among us as a servant.

For us, then, the Lord models servanthood. We are not asked to do anything the Lord hasn’t already done Himself.

Secondly, Jesus describes one set of tasks, that of plowing a field or keeping sheep, tasks which are done outside. But then He says that, once those tasks are done, then we might be asked to do something else which is entirely different. The second task has to do with serving someone at table. (Notice that table fellowship – or eating (and drinking) – figure prominently in Luke’s gospel account. Here, we see yet another example of this.)

Third, when we respond to the Lord’s command to do something, we are only doing what our status as servants tells us we are to do. Notice that the Lord says, “So, you also, when you have done all that is commanded you, say, ‘We are unworthy servants, we have only done what was our duty.’”

Finally, let’s consider the connection between Jesus’ first comment, which has to do with the things that faith can accomplish, and His ensuring comments, which have to do with the tasks that lie in front of us. Jesus says that faith can uproot trees and move them to the most unlikely of places: the sea. What connection does accomplishing the impossible have to do with the tasks we are to do?

I think the answer is that the tasks that we do, while seeming to be small and insignificant, are exactly the means by which the impossible is accomplished.

Sometimes, I think we think that the impossible happens when God moves to act in some spectacular way. Usually, I think, our perception is that that is the only way the impossible is accomplished.

But many times, faithful people will set themselves to a task, only to look around afterward to see that they’d accomplished the impossible, one step at a time.

By being a servant of the Lord’s, we surrender our welfare in order to advance the welfare of the master. Doing so gives us the flexibility to undertake one task which might seem pretty mundane (or even distasteful), and then another. We do so because we know that the master knows better than we do what it will take to accomplish the tasks before us, even the impossible ones.

AMEN.