Sermon for 4th November 2007
Sermon for November 4th 2007.
The Revd. J. Michael Povey at St. David’s, Englewood, FL
Isaiah 1:1-20; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12; Luke 19:1-10
The Biblical record loves to turn thinking on to its head; to upset our theological apple-carts.
Jerusalem and Judah is Sodom and Gomorrah.
Jesus desires the company of a hated little man
Earlier this week Pope Benedict beatified more than 400 priests and nuns who had been killed in the Spanish Civil War. It was a controversial act because of the politics involved, but politics are nothing new in the life of the Church.
We simply cannot live in a religious bubble, separated from the life of the world, nor is that what is required of us. If we are to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth, many of our choices as disciples of Jesus will have political consequences.
To feed the hungry, and no one is opposed to that, is to raise an important question “but why are they hungry in a world of abundance?” And that question leads us to political thinking and choices. Not partisan politics I hasten to add. Thoughtful Christians are republicans and democrats and independents. But thoughtful believers will also ask “what are the political choices that lead to poverty, hunger and homelessness?”
A religious bubble:- religion apart from political consequence, (to which some would call us), can indeed be something which God hates.
For God hates any religiosity which is separated from justice. The Holy One tells the people of God in the words of Isaiah, that God is weary of their sacrifices, offerings, assemblies and festivals. Isaiah is bold enough to refer to the people of Jerusalem and Judah as “Sodom and Gomorrah”.
“Why this weariness?” The implication is clear. God is weary of injustice, human oppression and the lack of care for the most vulnerable.
We must, God says, turn from religiosity, and “learn to do good, seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow“.
Note the verbs. They call for action. Learn. See. Rescue. Defend. Plead. Don’t just sit there. Do something.
For in fact when we do nothing, we are actually doing something.
That Roman Catholic practice of “making saints” often has a controversial political aspect. So be it. Anglicans have been wary of this practice for another reason. It is this: “we never truly know who are the saints, and who are not”.
The Red Sox victory parade wends its way down Boylston Street. Danny DeVito happens to be in town, but he is at the back of the crowd. So he shins up a telephone pole to get a better view. The Duck Boat stops right at that pole. David Ortiz calls out. “Hey Danny come on down and join me. We can get together for some munchies tonight”. And the “kicker” would be if Danny DeVito happened to be a Yankee fan!
I couldn’t resist that! And you get my drift. Zacchaeus up the tree, and Jesus calls him down, and invites himself to dinner at Zach’s home.
We are so familiar with the story, turned as it has been in to a cute story for children, that we can no longer be shocked. But it is shocking. An apparently wretched rascal is singled out for special treatment by Jesus.
And we’ve made a nice little moral out of the story. “Zacchaeus”, we say, “was so moved by his encounter with Jesus, that he immediately repented and gave half his good o the poor etc”.
But here, according to Episcopal Seminarian Sarah Dylan Breur, we may have been misled by the English translation of the Greek text.
Sarah maintains that it should be translated something like “Lord, half my possessions I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone, I pay back four times as much”.
It is something he is already doing - quite plausible as the text says that he is very rich.
In other words, the one whom the crowds decried as a sinner, is already the one who is doing justice and loving mercy. And he is doing it quietly, almost secretly.
To the crowd he is a sinner. To Jesus he is a son of Abraham.
Oh, we think that we know, and can identify the saints. And we are so sure that we can identify the sinners.
But even Popes can get that wrong.
The “know it all” me wishes that it could be simpler.
But very religious people can be Sodom and Gomorrah.
And the woman down the street whom I despise could be a saint.
The Revd. J. Michael Povey at St. David’s, Englewood, FL
Isaiah 1:1-20; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12; Luke 19:1-10
The Biblical record loves to turn thinking on to its head; to upset our theological apple-carts.
Jerusalem and Judah is Sodom and Gomorrah.
Jesus desires the company of a hated little man
Earlier this week Pope Benedict beatified more than 400 priests and nuns who had been killed in the Spanish Civil War. It was a controversial act because of the politics involved, but politics are nothing new in the life of the Church.
We simply cannot live in a religious bubble, separated from the life of the world, nor is that what is required of us. If we are to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth, many of our choices as disciples of Jesus will have political consequences.
To feed the hungry, and no one is opposed to that, is to raise an important question “but why are they hungry in a world of abundance?” And that question leads us to political thinking and choices. Not partisan politics I hasten to add. Thoughtful Christians are republicans and democrats and independents. But thoughtful believers will also ask “what are the political choices that lead to poverty, hunger and homelessness?”
A religious bubble:- religion apart from political consequence, (to which some would call us), can indeed be something which God hates.
For God hates any religiosity which is separated from justice. The Holy One tells the people of God in the words of Isaiah, that God is weary of their sacrifices, offerings, assemblies and festivals. Isaiah is bold enough to refer to the people of Jerusalem and Judah as “Sodom and Gomorrah”.
“Why this weariness?” The implication is clear. God is weary of injustice, human oppression and the lack of care for the most vulnerable.
We must, God says, turn from religiosity, and “learn to do good, seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow“.
Note the verbs. They call for action. Learn. See. Rescue. Defend. Plead. Don’t just sit there. Do something.
For in fact when we do nothing, we are actually doing something.
That Roman Catholic practice of “making saints” often has a controversial political aspect. So be it. Anglicans have been wary of this practice for another reason. It is this: “we never truly know who are the saints, and who are not”.
The Red Sox victory parade wends its way down Boylston Street. Danny DeVito happens to be in town, but he is at the back of the crowd. So he shins up a telephone pole to get a better view. The Duck Boat stops right at that pole. David Ortiz calls out. “Hey Danny come on down and join me. We can get together for some munchies tonight”. And the “kicker” would be if Danny DeVito happened to be a Yankee fan!
I couldn’t resist that! And you get my drift. Zacchaeus up the tree, and Jesus calls him down, and invites himself to dinner at Zach’s home.
We are so familiar with the story, turned as it has been in to a cute story for children, that we can no longer be shocked. But it is shocking. An apparently wretched rascal is singled out for special treatment by Jesus.
And we’ve made a nice little moral out of the story. “Zacchaeus”, we say, “was so moved by his encounter with Jesus, that he immediately repented and gave half his good o the poor etc”.
But here, according to Episcopal Seminarian Sarah Dylan Breur, we may have been misled by the English translation of the Greek text.
Sarah maintains that it should be translated something like “Lord, half my possessions I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone, I pay back four times as much”.
It is something he is already doing - quite plausible as the text says that he is very rich.
In other words, the one whom the crowds decried as a sinner, is already the one who is doing justice and loving mercy. And he is doing it quietly, almost secretly.
To the crowd he is a sinner. To Jesus he is a son of Abraham.
Oh, we think that we know, and can identify the saints. And we are so sure that we can identify the sinners.
But even Popes can get that wrong.
The “know it all” me wishes that it could be simpler.
But very religious people can be Sodom and Gomorrah.
And the woman down the street whom I despise could be a saint.
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