Luke 12.32-34
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning,
Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
 
Today we are experiencing a synchronicity of observances in the life of our church: it is both World Communion Sunday and the kickoff of our stewardship campaign. Initially, I thought about it as more of an eclipse, with one special Sunday covering the other, but as I thought more about it, it provides an opportunity for us to see our faith, our generosity, our giving in a global and a local context.

By a show of hands, how many of us think of ourselves as rich? A few years back the Occupy Wall Street Movement took aim at the “One Percenters” -– the people who are in the very top income bracket in our country -– and denounced the disparity of income in our country. And to be sure, even though that movement has dissipated, the problem of income inequality worsens. But it isn’t just a problem for us nationally…it’s a global issue. Let me ask you another question: By a show of hands, and looking beyond the United States, how many of think that you are not simply doing okay, but wealthy in the global scheme of things?

This may surprise you, but if your household income is $32,400 or more, you are a “One Percenter,” globally speaking. The median income for households in Fort Collins is $60,110, and the mean household income is $80,591.[1] Does that help put things in perspective?

Median household income in Italy is just over $20,000 a year (one-third of Fort Collins), and in Portugal it’s just over $16,000 a year…those are developed European economies. In Angola, it’s about $3,500 a year, and in Liberia it is only $781.[2]

Let me ask that first question again: By a show of hands, how many of us think of ourselves as rich? So, when we celebrate World Communion Sunday, perhaps it’s helpful for us to have a global perspective on our own wealth.  [Jesus interrupts…][3]

* * *
[Jesus: Hal? … Hal?]
Who is that?
[It’s Jesus, Hal.]
No, it’s not!
[Sure, it is, Hal! Let me prove it…you know this one, don’t you: “Much will be demanded from everyone who has been given much; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, even more will be asked.”][4]

Yeah, that’s from the end of the Parable of the Unfaithful Slave. And if you really are Jesus, are you trying to tell us that I – we – have been entrusted with a lot and that we will be asked for even more?

[You figure it out, Hal. Duh! Okay, see if this makes sense: “There was a certain rich man who clothed himself in purple and fine linen, and who feasted luxuriously every day. At his gate lay a certain poor man named Lazarus who was covered with sores. Lazarus longed to eat the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table. Instead, dogs would come and lick his sores. (I know it’s gross, but I’m trying to make a point here…)

“The poor man died and was carried by angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. While being tormented in the place of the dead, he looked up and saw Abraham at a distance with Lazarus at his side. He shouted, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I’m suffering in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received good things, whereas Lazarus received terrible things. Now Lazarus is being comforted and you are in great pain. Moreover, a great crevasse has been fixed between us and you. Those who wish to cross over from here to you cannot. Neither can anyone cross from there to us.’

“The rich man said, ‘Then I beg you, Father, send Lazarus to my father’s house. I have five brothers. He needs to warn them so that they don’t come to this place of agony.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets. They must listen to them.’ The rich man said, ‘No, Father Abraham! But if someone from the dead goes to them, they will change their hearts and lives.’ Abraham said, ‘If they don’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, then neither will they be persuaded if someone rises from the dead.’”][5]

Okay, Jesus, I’m feeling persuaded – since you are, after all, someone who rises from the dead. Can I ask you a question? Why is it that you are always talking about money? Are you trying to lay a guilt trip on us?

[Jesus: I talk about two things more than anything else, especially when I’m at dinner with sinners and tax collectors: love and money…both have a lot to do with you becoming a co-creator of the kingdom of God that I came to proclaim. And the reason I talked so much about love and money is that you have so much to give…sometimes you just need to be…well…prompted.]
Okay, then. Consider me prompted. And thanks for the reminder, Jesus.

[Jesus: No problem, Hal, and just remember, “I am with you always…even until the end of the age.”][6]
* * *

I know that’s a lot to think about. We’ve been showing you videos about how Plymouth is changing peoples’ lives and by extension why your financial support is so essential. And you can see all of those videos at plymouthucc.org/give. But I wonder if the reason that most of us give is that Jesus calls us to open our hearts, and that heart-journey helps us know where we should invest the money that has been entrusted to us.

When we examine ourselves, we know that we are rich by comparison to most of the world, even if Madison Avenue tells us that we are lacking and that our personal wants come before all else. And we know in our hearts that God has entrusted much to us and that we are being called to pay it forward, to go deeper, to give generously. You and I are being called by God -– and not by the advertising industry –- to put our treasure where our hearts are, to invest in the kingdom of God whose hallmarks are faithfulness, justice, peace, and freedom. That is a deeply counter-cultural message in our nation today.

I’ve thought in the past about the story of Jesus and the rich young ruler, who... [Jesus interrupts: Oh, yeah, that’s a good one!] Thank you, for that! I’ve wondered how I might respond if Jesus himself were to ask me face-to-face to give up all of my possessions and follow him. Would it make a difference if it was Jesus standing in front of you, asking you to search your soul and to use what has been entrusted to you for God’s realm? If you don’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, then you probably won’t be persuaded by someone who rises from the dead.

There are a lot of ways that you can invest in God’s realm. There are different ways to bring faith and justice and peace into God’s world. But for me, Plymouth and the United Church of Christ form the most immediate and sustainable way available. I know that all of us are in different financial situations, some have student loans, big medical bills, kids going to college, car payments, and that it isn’t as simple as saying, “Yes, Jesus, I’m going to give all that up and follow you.” But that doesn’t let us off the hook…it isn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. [Jesus interrupts: “Yeah, Zacchaeus (Za-KEY-us) the tax collector to just give half of his possessions away, and…][7] Okay, thanks, Jesus. We get the idea. It’s not all or nothing; it’s do whatever you are able to do — the very best you can.

I started looking at that Graduated Giving Chart that was in the bulletin last week, and I did some math and figured out that Jane Anne and I should increase what we are giving, and both of us feel as though we need to put our money where our hearts are, and our hearts are here with Plymouth and the United Church of Christ. So, Jane Anne and I have decided to increase our pledge to Plymouth next year to $10,000. I don’t say that because I think you should give exactly the same, but because I don’t believe in asking you to do something that we ourselves are not doing. We’re trying to set an example and to encourage you to stretch. And it will mean some sacrifices on our part, which is not all bad…it makes us more intentional about our giving.

Plymouth is at a crossroads with great opportunities for ministry and mission ahead of us. I know that many of you find tremendous value in what we are doing here, in our community, and around the world. As you consider your pledge for 2020, please use the Graduated Giving Chart, be prayerful, and also put your treasure where your heart is.

Amen.
 
© 2019 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.
 
[1] http://worldpopulationreview.com/us-cities/fort-collins-population/
[2] http://worldpopulationreview.com/countries/median-income-by-country/
[3] Thanks to Bill Tucker, who was the “off-stage” voice of Jesus.
[4] Luke 12.48 (CEB)
[5] Luke 16.19-31 (CEB)
[6] Matthew 28.20 (my translation)
[7] Luke 19

Luke 12. 13-21
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning
Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
 
Part of the time I was growing up, my dad worked in Manhattan, where he worked with the pharmaceutical division of Revlon, and they made everything from Tums to all kinds of prescription medications. And my dad recalled a meeting with Charles Revson, the founder of Revlon, who had a needlework pillow on the couch in his office that said, “You can never be too thin or too rich.” Yeah, it’s kind of funny…but we all know that people who suffer from eating disorders don’t think it’s funny, and people who have any kind of a moral compass don’t think so.

And it got me thinking…sometimes, is it possible to have too much of a good thing?

One of the lessons I learned from my dad is that money is a tool to be used for good in the world, and that it is not an end in itself. Money is not essentially good or evil…it’s a tool that can be used toward positive or negative purposes. And I thought everyone believed that. But many of us have a conflicted past with money. Some of us grew up without much, and maybe that leads us to feel insecure about having enough…yet others who were raised in similar circumstances don’t have the same conflicted relationship with money. Some folks grew up in families with plenty of money, and perhaps that has led us to think we are entitled to the same or more wealth…yet others raised in well-to-do families approach money with equanimity. I wonder whether most of us have a relationship with money that is complicated. And perhaps that is what makes us so uncomfortable when we talk about it. And Jesus talked about money… a lot.

The parable we hear in Luke’s gospel today sets before us a “rich fool,” who definitely has a conflicted relationship with money. It’s as if he has a pretty secure retirement plan, with enough in his Bank of Judea 401(k) to last, but he is under the impression that he needs to shelter the excess wealth with which he has been blessed, so he decided to craft a new retirement plan to maximize his assets.

To many North Americans that doesn’t sound wrong or unjust…maybe the rich fool is just being prudent and saving for a rainy day. So, does the parable of Jesus strike us as odd? You and I may think of the wealthiest one percent of our populace and assume they are not bearing their fair share of the tax burden. But what about us? What about folks at Plymouth? Are we as individuals building bigger barns? Is that investment property we own helping us to be rich toward God? Is that investment we made in our retirement plan going to be used to build up the realm of God, or is it going to make us just a bit more comfortable in retirement? Do we, some of us, have too much of a good thing?

We all know that there are other good things in life that we should enjoy in moderation…food, drink, sunshine. We are probably aware of the pitfalls of excess in eating, drinking, and being out in the sun. But how do we tell when enough is enough, and not too much?

Some situations are measurable. When you go for your annual physical and your doctor advises you to lose 25 pounds, you have quantitative evidence that things are out of balance. When you get pulled over after a few drinks and just miss getting a DUI, you have quantitative evidence that you’ve exceeded moderation. When you have skin cancer lesions removed after spending too much time in the sun, you have quantitative evidence that you’ve gone overboard.

But what about when things are not so easily measured? And what about some things where you and I might be tempted to say there is not such thing as “enough?” What is “enough” houses? What is “enough” retirement funds? What is “enough” cars? What is “enough” health?

I was thinking about that last week while waiting for my radiation treatment down at the UCHealth Cancer Center. Usually, I’m one of the younger patients in the waiting room, but when I went in there were two kids, I’d guess about 4 and 6 years old, working on a big coloring page on the waiting room wall. And I assumed that they were waiting for a grandparent undergoing treatment. And when their 30-something-year-old mom walked out, it struck me. Wow…I’m dealing with cancer in my 50s, and she is about 25 years younger than I am and has little kids. That make me sit up and take notice, and it put things in perspective for me. I’m planning to be around for a while longer, but I get hit by a bus tomorrow, I’ve had a longer and a fuller life than that mom in her 30s, let alone kids dealing with pediatric cancers. Is there enough health? … a long-enough life?

I told someone recently that four years ago, I had an internist. And now I also have a urologist, a surgeon, a radiation oncologist, a cardiologist, and a pulmonologist. I have more than enough doctors! But thank God they are there. And when I’m feeling as though I don’t have good enough health, I try to go into an attitude of gratefulness for what I have: health insurance, the ability to make the copays, top-flight caregivers, and a cancer center that is only 15 minutes away. And the people who work at that place are an absolute blessing…there are a lot of angels wearing scrubs down on Harmony Road.

I want to teach you a very short Hebrew folk song that is sung around some Seder tables on Passover, as the people celebrate God’s abundance and deliverance from slavery in Egypt. Part of the Haggadah, the litany of Passover, includes the sentiment that “It would have been enough for us! If God had brought us out of Egypt but had not executed judgments against the Egyptians, it would have been enough for us! If God had given us their wealth, but had not split the sea for us, it would have been enough for us! So, the form is “It would have been enough” … “but God went beyond that and did this!” And the Hebrew word “Dayenu” means enough. Here is how the song goes: Day- Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Dayenu! Day-e-nu!

You know the refrain now, so let’s give it a try as a response to some of the things in our own lives that would have been enough. I’ll start with a couple, and then I’ll ask you for other ways God has blessed you with enough.

It would have been enough if God had given us the breath of life, but she sustains us even unto this very hour!
Day- Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Dayenu! Day-e-nu!

It would have been enough if God had given us a nice church to worship in, but he filled it with an amazing transformative tradition and the magnificent people who form Plymouth!
Day- Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Day-Day-enu! Dayenu! Day-e-nu!

What do you say would have been enough…but then God went above and beyond?
[move to Communion Table]

Singing Dayenu brings us into the realization that God’s abundance is present and tangible. It leads us into a non-quantifiable understanding that what God provides is more than enough. What if the rich fool had been sitting around a Passover table, or the table where we remember Jesus’ last supper at Passover, and he sang “Dayenu?”

What might the rich fool had done differently with the overabundance he planned to store in new, bigger barns? Even if he were still to die that night, might he have died as a joyful man instead of a foolish man? And what of us? What might we do differently as those who hear this parable of Jesus? How might we change if we remember to sing “Dayenu” and to be thankful for the abundant blessings of God?

May it be so. Amen.

© 2019 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.

Luke 10.38-42
Rev. Jane Anne Ferguson
Plymouth Congregational Church, UCC
Fort Collins, CO

38 Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the LORD's feet and listened to what he was saying. 40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." 41 But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42 there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
 
How many of you are familiar with this story? Anyone hearing it for the first time? How many of you winced when you heard Martha complain to Jesus? How many of you want to cheer her on because you have been in her position? Its not easy to ask for the help we need. How many of you wince when you hear Jesus’ reply to Martha? Anyone resent Mary just a little bit? Anyone just a little are envious of her? Anyone feel torn between loyalty to Mary and loyalty to Martha? Maybe like both of them live inside of you.

This is a brief, but not a simple story. Its complicated in the archetypes of activism and contemplation it presents us as followers of Jesus. It asks the question, how will we live in relationship with the Holy One? The story has been the theme for many a women’s retreat, its not just a story for women. Men, no sleeping in this sermon! This is story for all of us.

Martha may be the hostess welcoming Jesus ... but Jesus provides the really radical hospitality in the story. He turns the over the gender tables of his time. In the first two verses of this passage, he breaks with two Jewish social norms and conventions regarding women. First, he allows himself to be welcomed into Martha’s home. Not her husband’s home or her father’s or her brother’s. Notice the brother of Mary and Martha, Lazarus, who we hear about the gospel of John, is not even present in this story. This is Martha’s home. And Jesus enters it with no compunctions, no need for first being introduced to her by a male relative. He defies convention honoring her personhood as an equal. And then he goes even further by welcoming Mary and Martha to sit with the disciples for teaching. Women were not traditionally included in the teaching circles of rabbis. Yet there is Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet. And my guess is that Martha was invited to sit in the circle as well from the very beginning. Before she headed to the kitchen.

This is a story of the radical hospitality of Jesus not just for women but for all of us. Because we all live in a world that provides the same distractions that got Martha all caught up and twisted around with anxiety. We live in a world where our worth is measured by our tasks, actions and accomplishments. It’s a badge of honor to be so busy that we are exhausted, worn out, over-functioning. We try to cram as much productivity into a day as possible. Our world pulls us in so many directions it is dizzying.

Have you ever longed to cry out with Martha, “Jesus, do you not care about all I have to deal with, work, school, children, aging or ailing friends and relatives, volunteer work at church and in the community, spending quality time with my partner? Can’t you help? Do I have to do this all alone!” Jesus replies, “My dear, dear friend, you are worried and distracted by many things; come sit. There is need of only one thing.”

And here we are in our progressive Christian community. We are called to social justice for our sisters and brothers who are homeless or who are immigrants, called to environmental justice for creation, called to eradicate gun violence in our country, called to the full inclusion of LGBTQ brothers and sisters, called to just treatment of women and to human rights around the world. And we know recent news cycles send us spinning. We could say with Martha, “Jesus, do you not care that we are trying to welcome and to save all the people who you have taught us are our neighbors, that we are trying to save our planet, that we are trying to keep our community safe from the flagrant use of weapons of war, to teach our children your ways? Jesus! We feel all alone! Who will help? Can you tell all these other Christians to help us!” Jesus replies, “Church, church, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.”

What is this one thing? Was Martha preparing too many dishes for dinner?  Is Jesus saying, “Don’t’ multi-task!” Okay, Jesus....you have our attention. What is that one thing? Why has Mary chosen the better part? Why have you not sent her to rescue Martha in her anxiety? For that matter, why don’t you and the disciples get up and help Martha? The work of the world, the care of people, doesn’t get done with just thoughts and prayers! Surely you know that. What is this one thing?”

Jesus says, “Sit down here with Mary and be with me. Be with God. Tend to the intimacy of your relationship with the Holy One, prioritize this rather than the distractions. Come sit by my side. Tell me, how is your soul, dear one?”

Jesus’ invitation does not deny the work that must be done. No one knows more about justice work, about caring for others than he does. The late Madeleine L’Engle captured the importance of work in her brief poem, “Martha”:

Now
nobody can ever laugh at me again.
I was the one who baked the bread.
I pressed the grapes for wine.

Madeleine L’Engle, The Weather of the Heart,
“Martha,” (Harold Shaw Publishers: Wheaton, IL, 1978, 81).

Jesus does not say Martha’s work is unimportant. It is her distraction and anxiety that are tripping her up. The work of our lives is important. Yet Jesus is saying to us in this story, “Relationship to the Holy One comes first. Tend to this life-giving relationship, then all the other work is put into perspective.” It reminds me of Stephen Covey’s time management suggestion in his book, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Your life with God, with the kin–dom of God that dwells within you, in your soul, is the first big rock to put into your time management jar. Then comes the other big rocks – family, work, helping to build God’s realm here on earth in whatever way you do that. And then the little rocks of commitments and activities will find their way into the rest of the time left.

When we are distracted like Martha – and I know for me that is daily – how do we sit at Jesus’ feet with Mary? What is quality time with God? This time is about intention and listening with our hearts and minds. Yes, in prayer in its varied forms --  centering prayer and meditation, journaling, praying with scripture, praying with a prayer group. It is regularly coming to worship for communal and individual prayer, scripture, music, even sermons and fellowship with fellow journeyers. It is the challenge of studying God’s word in scripture and God’s word in books that make you think and wrestle theology, spiritual practice and prophetic action. Quality time with God can be intentionally listening in the garden or the mountains. It may be running or yoga. Painting or knitting. It may be sitting quietly with your first cup of coffee or tea and simply being, paying attention to the movement of the Spirit that is prompting you to questions, to actions, to relationships. That “one thing” is intentional time devoted to being with the Holy. The “one thing” can be so many things that lead us into God’s presence where we unburden our hearts and listen for understanding.  

There is a legend from the Provence region of France about Mary and Martha. It seems that after the resurrection of Jesus they journeyed to France as missionaries. They retained their archetypal characters. Martha was the activist....she tamed and banished a dragon that was bullying a small town. Mary was a contemplative hermit who supported her sister through prayer and became the wise woman of the area whom many came to for teaching. Each of us may have an affinity or a call for one of these archetypes or the other. In reality we need both Mary and Martha energy in our lives. And we need to remember how Jesus offered them the radical hospitality of God. It was Jesus’ own practice to turn to God’s hospitality of  love in prayer so that he could invite others into it. May we be a community that invites one another as Jesus invited Mary and Martha. May we remember to sit with Jesus in radical relationship to God’s love so we can offer the radical invitation of God’s hospitality to our world. May we take Jesus’ words of invitation. to heart even as we serve God, one another and our neighbors.

”There is need of only one thing,” Jesus says. Choose the better part. Come sit with me. Learn with me. Listen with me. Be with me in God’s extravagant welcome of love.” Amen.

©The Rev. Jane Anne Ferguson, 2019 and beyond. May be reprinted with permission only.

Luke 10.25-37
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning,
Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
 
Before I sat down to write this sermon, I called a member of our congregation, Marilu Theodore, who is in hospital in Portugal with a fractured pelvis (and she hopes to have medivac transportation home this week). One of the things that she remarked on was how very compassionate she has found people who are caring for her. Even the family of the woman she is sharing a room with are visiting with her and checking in on her as well. If you don’t know Marilu, observing the compassion of caregivers is very much in character, and she asked me if Marcus Borg hadn’t said something about compassion when he was here seven years ago. I told her that I’d be writing a sermon about the Parable of the Good Samaritan and relying on Marcus’s work for that…at which time she suggested a title for this sermon: “The View from the Other Side of the Bedpan.”

The Erma Bombeck-esque nature of Marilu’s suggestion is a good one. When we attempt to put ourselves into someone else’s shoes, especially in a moment of distress, how can we help but offer a compassionate response? Perhaps the problem is that most of us don’t really want to identify with the person on the other side of the bedpan, because we are subconsciously afraid that if we imagine it too well, we might imagine that it could be us. We don’t want to “go there,” and if we can avert our eyes and our imagining, perhaps we can deny that the problem exists at all.

If we don’t see children in detention centers on our border, being kept in squalid conditions without their parents, we don’t have to suffer. If we don’t see immigrants being rounded up in American cities as if a new holocaust is about to begin, then we don’t have to suffer. If we don’t see the more than 1,000 people who have contracted Ebola in the Democratic Republic of Congo this year, then we don’t have to suffer. If we don’t ourselves experience being sexually harassed or open our eyes, ears, and hearts to those who have, we don’t have to suffer. If we can just keep our eyes closed … we won’t have to suffer. Or so we think.

The English word compassion has two Latin roots: cum – “with” – and patior – “to suffer.” So, the English word compassion literally means to suffer with. And the New Testament Greek word for compassion is a doozy: splagknidzomai, which is the feeling of being so affected that you feel it in your splagknon, your guts.

Nobody wants to suffer, but to be the helper of those who suffer does not necessarily mean that we will suffer to the same extent. We can stand on the bank of a swift-moving river, hold onto a tree branch, and extend a hand to the person who would otherwise be swept downstream. We can offer to be in solidarity and relationship with someone who has an incurable disease, and though we may not cure the ailment, we may bring a sense of peace and healing. We can show up when a shooting happens and be part of an ongoing solutions to end gun violence, even though we cannot bring victims back to life. But we cannot do any of those things – we cannot be the hands and feet and eyes and ears of Christ – if we cover our eyes or try to look the other way.

Our faith gives us courage to face things that scare us or intimidate us. I was in divinity school before I had seen a dead body (outside of a college anatomy lab), because my family never had open casket funerals or visiting hours when someone died. I was scared to death of death. So, I took a whole course on death and dying in divinity school, and as a lay caring minister, I went to a family visitation and saw the lifeless body of Roy Bramall, the wonderful elderly man I had been privileged to do ministry with as a member of First Congregational UCC in Boulder. If we move toward our fears, rather than hiding from them, we can dispel the intimidation that boxes us in and keeps us from helping, even if that would be our inclination.

We may think of the priest and the Levite who passed the wounded man on the Jericho Road as being heartless or fearful. But there was something else at play…and that is what Jesus was driving at with this most famous of parables. The 21st chapter of Leviticus details the purity codes for priests: “The Lord said to Moses: Speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and say to them: No one shall defile himself for a dead person among his relatives, except for his nearest kin.” And according to the book of Numbers, “This is the law when someone dies in a tent: everyone who comes into the tent, and everyone who is in the tent, shall be unclean for seven days.” (Num. 19.14)

We learn from these passages that, especially for priests and their Levites who served God in the Temple, ritual purity was absolutely paramount, so that they could perform the religious rites that were their holy duty. And Luke’s gospel tells us that the victim of the robbers was stripped, beaten, and left for dead. The priest and the Levite were doing what they should have been doing according to Torah. One of the key values in the Temple Judaism of that day was ritual purity, which included all persons, but especially the clergy.

And you may not realize it, but for the audience Jesus was addressing, the only good Samaritan was a dead Samaritan. They were a religious minority group who believed that Mount Gerazim and not Jerusalem was the holy city, and they used only the Pentateuch and saw Moses as the only prophet. Samaritans were personae non gratae for Jews in ancient Israel. So, when Jesus begins to tell a parable that flips our assumptions on their heads, of course he chooses the Samaritan as the good guy in the story.

The Samaritan takes three initial actions in the parable: saw (he saw the man alongside the road), came near (approached the wounded, perhaps dead, man), and experienced compassion (splagknidzomai is used in the NT Greek). Then he does four more actions: bandages the man’s wounds, put him on the Samaritan’s animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And finally, he assures payment to the innkeeper for whatever is spent on the wounded man. Three steps of compassion: seeing and having compassion, acting, and putting your money where your mouth is.

But wait…it is the Samaritan who is acting justly. And if we are taking a religious minority and holding him up as the hero, over and against the religious authorities of Jesus’ day, then we have a problem…a big problem. Jesus in his parables often gets what white men call “uppity” with the authorities. Jesus doesn’t know his place. He is subverting the dominant paradigm with an alternative. He is holding up the holy value of compassion and saying that it is more important than ritual purity, which was absolutely central to Temple Judaism in the first century.

Whether it is the father who welcomes home with open arms the Prodigal Son (he was a pigherd and ritually unclean) or eating with sinners and tax collectors or saying “Blessed are the pure in heart” (as opposed to those who are pure in hands), Jesus was deliberately replacing the central value of what it means to be faithful: it’s all about compassion, not about purity.

Back to what Marilu Theodore remembered about Marcus Borg, he adds a further and really important point about what Jesus was doing with this parable and with other subversive sayings and actions: “For Jesus, compassion was not simply an individual virtue, but a sociopolitical paradigm expressing his alternative vision of human life in community, a vision of the life embodied in the movement that came into existence around him.” [Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time. (SF: HarperSanFrancisco, 1994), p. 47.]

The transformative power of compassion is limitless. If it became the dominant political ethos of this nation, think what a different world it would be. Imagine a State Department whose primary diplomatic mission was compassion. Imagine a Department of Homeland Security whose key objectives involved dealing compassionately with refugees and immigrants. Imagine a Congress who, instead of gridlock and partisanship, operated together with compassion for one another and for God’s world. When Jesus proclaimed the kingdom of God, which you pray for every time you offer the Lord’s Prayer, that’s what he envisioned. The compassion that Jesus places at the center of our faith has the power to change the world, yet it requires that we open our eyes.

Compassion is about more than doing a good deed…it’s about a costly commitment to changing God’s world.

May it be so. Amen.
 
© 2019 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.

The Rev. Jake Miles Joseph
Luke 9:57-62
Plymouth Congregational Church
Fort Collins, Colorado
 
Would you join me in prayer? O God who walks with us on the many paths of life, I pray that the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts may be good and pleasing in your sight. Amen.
 
One of the greatest gifts of ministry with Plymouth over the past years has been the participatory planning of the All-Church Retreat. While many of our ministry teams require only distant supervision or occasional guidance (usually only in the event of a crisis), it has been part of the full-time associate minister role for me to walk through the joyful creation of this annual event as a member of the planning team.
 
One of the saddest parts of leaving Plymouth before September, when the All-Church Retreat will take place this year, is not having the chance to attend this event. I always name it as my very favorite moment of ministry here every year. And this year, friends, let me just say that the team is planning the coolest, most intergenerational, artist-filled weekend of going deeper in faith and Spirit together down at La Foret. We even have an internationally known rock balancing artist contacted to come for our program!
 
What is it, though, about the All-Church Retreat that has made it, repeatedly, the highlight of my year of ministry, year after year? What makes it special and even restorative for our work together as church? Why would anyone choose to spend a year planning an event for church to gather in old cabins, to worship in the outdoors, to be dirty, to not get much sleep, and to be homesick? We have a perfectly good church building. We have perfectly good beds here at home. We have perfectly great hiking in Lory State Park. Why would one do that on purpose—especially as it requires driving South on I-25 during a Friday rush hour?
 
Here is why: for me, the All-Church Retreat (like the All-Church Picnic) is a Sacrament of the Plymouth Church Year. It is a Sacrament that disrupts the systems and the “normal” of our lives together. The manners in which we do community and worship and fellowship is challenged and set (for me) on a new pathway every year from the retreat onward. The All-Church Retreat is where I have my ministry New Year Eve. It reminds that the church isn’t contained by walls or magic words… but by people, their stories shared around a campfire, and the attentive listening to the Spirit. On the hikes and the pathways of the retreat, norms are challenged and new ways of being in community emerge.
 
Like the All-Church Retreat, leaving our comfort zones and upsetting norms is also the subject of our Scripture passage this morning from the Gospel According to Luke. It is a passage that on the surface appears to be Jesus in a really foul mood. On the surface it is a text that makes us cringe at times of change and transition, but under that surface is a call to go deeper into Christian love together especially at times of new pathways and journey.
 
In today’s passage, Jesus encounters some “wanna be” disciples. While our reading today is often thought of as one conversation, if we break it apart, there are actually three distinct and potentially very different people auditioning to be disciples before Jesus. Since there is no time marker between them, each could have been a very distinct conversation and context. This is like an American Idol for auditioning Disciples, except Jesus is a tougher audience and judge than even Simon Cowell.
 
Within the context of the Gospel of Luke, at this point in the story, Jesus is transitioning from B-List (regional) Prophet (sort of the type who might play Las Vegas) to an A-List Celerity. Jesus is becoming the Jesus Christ Superstar we imagine in theater and movies. We catch-up with Jesus today right in the moment when he is really building up his ministry, and people are paying attention. Joiners are circling. Do you know what the word “joiner” means? Joiners are the opposite of covenant-makers. These are the folks who attach themselves to the next best celebrity and then leave just as easily for the next best thing. Jesus is auditioning disciples not joiners for the difficult work of walking together in the woodland and forests of Spiritual Community.
 
Let us hear the text again listening for all three audition tapes in this episode of Disciples Idol: 
 
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But Jesus[a] said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
 
Here are three people all presenting themselves to Jesus to be followers, and now the story never tells us is they actually decided to continue following Jesus or not, but it does show us three of the reasons Jesus warns them about the realities becoming part of Christian Community. Jesus offers three reasons that covenant is a difficult pathway—and note it is different for each one of them. There is no blanket response. It is individualized for each person.
 
To the first, Jesus tells him that one of the risks of following is discomfort and housing insecurity. “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” There is likely to be times of severe discomfort on the Jesus Journey. There is the risk of restless and even sleepless nights and solidarity with those on the margins. The first trail warning is that this isn’t a comfortable walk or life. Discomfort is part of the Jesus Journey.
 
The second, once he receives the direct invitation to follow Jesus, suddenly pivots and comes up with the excuse of needing to go home for a previously (conveniently) unscheduled funeral. Biblical Scholars agree that this second one is the example of the false excuse for real commitment. There isn’t really a funeral to plan or attend or he wouldn’t have been there listening to Jesus in the first place. Funerals happen that quickly in the ancient world, and still today in Jewish tradition. Have any of you ever worked in the HR field? This is the, “I need to go to my grandmother’s funeral,” excused absence claim.
 
Even so, Jesus says that sometimes the dead will need to bury the dead. There are many valid interpretations of this, but one interpretation is that a risk of following Christ is that some things, even important things (like funerals) will never be completed. The bereavement process is a journey and not a destination. The second trail warning is that Christian life on the path less traveled doesn’t always have a sense of completion or perfect closure. Nothing final will ever feel complete, and we have to find acceptance with that.
 
The third trail warning is a hard one today. The person simply asks to say goodbye to friends and family before leaving. This one I feel deeply right now, and Jesus’ response pains me. Facing leaving home and not feeling like there is enough time to say goodbye to every one of you individually, Jesus’ reply seems strange or hurtful. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
 
This is when we realize what Jesus is doing… everyone is welcome to be a follower, but the challenge is different for each. Jesus is working in the genre of the impossible. In the ancient world, a plow wasn’t like today’s modern GPS operated tractors made by John Deer and International Harvester. They were messy and propelled by donkeys. No matter how good of a farmer you were (even an Iowan) would have to look back and check their rows. It was part of the process.
 
Everyone looks back. Jesus has set-up an impossible paradigm. The third warning has the implication that none is able to do this perfectly without Grace. Jesus is using hyperbole to welcome an imperfect world and people to a new way. The third trail warning is that nobody will live up to this work. No human is fully able to let go of the past. Nobody is perfect, and none can do this Jesus Journey alone…at least not in perfection.
 
To each joiner, to each auditioner Jesus faces them with their own fear. It is like, for those of you who are Harry Potter fans, like a Boggart. To some that is imperfection, to others it is discomfort, and to yet others it is the incomplete.
 
“I will follow you wherever you go,” they say. Jesus replies, “Yes, yes, but you need to know that this whole Christianity thing is hard (hard for different people in different ways)—it means admitting to our imperfections and lack of straight lines, it means knowing that some things will be left undone and even incomplete, and that it can be uncomfortable and even sleepless at times… even away from La Foret.
 
[Pause 4 seconds]
 
This time of saying goodbye and moving feels kind of like this story rolled all into one process—incomplete, imperfect, and uncomfortable. It is all part of the larger vision of following Jesus on the road.
 
Let me close by adding one more observation about this passage. Verse 57 starts with this phase: “As they were going along the road…” What do you notice that is strange about this. The journey is already in motion. All three are already his followers—they never needed to audition to be followers in the first place, so Jesus challenges them with their own sense of what following means.
 
These and others are already in journey with Jesus. The choice is made, but the challenges remain. The word translated in our NRSV translation as “the road” comes from the Greek word Hodos. It can mean a physical way or road, but almost as often it means a course of conduct, or a way or manner of thinking (entrenched systems). As they were going along the way, as they were settling into a manner of thinking, as the systems solidified into a course of conduct… Jesus changes the direction. The hodos or the norms and familiar faces shift and the hodos ways of their lives change. Jesus offers a hodos challenging statement to each person who presents her or himself for discipleship. Going deeper in faith means understanding ourselves and accepting new pathways when presented with them for the sake of going deeper together and becoming better individuals.
 
I leave you now with a poem that inspired my sermon “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. I come from a literary analysis background, so when I am in times of change and stress I lean deeper not into history and facts but words and meaning.
 
Those who study this poem indicate that while it has a melancholy overtone, in the end there is a joy that there is no wrong way or path…all lead to a Providential Hope in God’s Realm and the interconnectedness of all Creation.
 
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
 
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
 
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
I shall be telling this with a sigh [deep breath and pause]
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.