call and response

Come and see...

Forty-three years ago on January 15th it was snowing in Washington, D.C. It was a light snow, falling gently through a gray sky. A co-worker and I were walking across the National Mall at lunchtime. Just past the Washington Monument we came upon a small gathering – small by National Mall standards.

There were thirty or forty thousand people standing in the snow, listening to Elihu Harris and other representatives from Congress, to celebrate the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., and to remind us what he meant to our nation and the world.

Stevie Wonder was there too and he sang a new song to Martin, written for the occasion: “Happy Birthday.” We can still sing the song – and now we have a holiday – Martin Luther King Day.

But why talk about Martin on a winter Sunday in Tucson, Arizona, forty-three years later?

The gospel reading for  the second Sunday after the Epiphany, John 1:43-51, is about the calling of Jesus’ first disciples … and that is exactly why! On this Sunday we hear how Jesus met Philip and Nathanael, and invited them into his ministry.

“Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, ‘Follow me’ … Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, ‘Come and see.’” (John 1: 43, 45-46)

Nathanael was from then on the quietly faithful one – we only hear his name again in the accounts of the Resurrection. Philip is the one who broke the news of the Messiah to the nations, by teaching the Ethiopian eunuch, vizier to the queen of the Ethiopians, all about Jesus, and baptizing him then and there. For all we know that the Ethiopian, who went on his way rejoicing, was the first to bring the gospel to Africa. Well done, Philip. Good and faithful, Nathanael.

What does this have to do with Martin – and you and me?

Well, in 1955 Martin was a fairly successful preacher, who had recently taken a pretty good job at a nice church in Montgomery, Alabama. Maybe the disciples Philip and Nathanael had pretty good lives too. But they seemed to be searching for something – or someone – more. So, as Philip told Nathanael – “we have found the one – the one we have been searching for.”

I suspect Martin was searching for something too. And it found him!

Rosa Parks in 1955 was a faithful, church-going lady, who rode the bus to work in the morning, and rode it home again at the end of the day. If you have ever been sitting on a crowded bus late in the evening, ready to go home, when one of these ladies comes down the aisle looking for a place to rest her feet, you know what tired looks like.

But back then, in Montgomery, Alabama, you had to move to the rear of the bus unless you were white. And if you weren’t white, and a white person wanted your seat, you had to get up and give it to them.

But this time, in December 1955, something happened.

Mrs. Parks sat down. She sat down in the front part of the bus. Even though she was black.

The driver told her to move. A white person wanted her seat. She did not get up.

Soon it was all over town.

“Everybody can sit anywhere on the bus – or we won’t be on it at all.”

This caused some consternation – throughout the community.

And Martin Luther King, as a respected local pastor, was asked to speak – to say why. Why justice needs to roll down like a river just as much as buses need to roll down the street.

Since that day things began to change – for Martin, who was called to something more than Sunday-morning piety, more than success, to preach good news to the poor and justice to the mistreated.

And things began to change – for the people of Alabama – and for us, too.

What had happened? Martin had stood in his pulpit in front of the church facing his congregation. But now he and his church were facing outward – toward the world, where they were needed, where their witness was needed: their hearts, their hands, their faith, their prayers, their walk with the Lord hand in hand with the people of their city.

Like Philip and Nathanael, we seek something more, we are called to something more, than simply to be “Israelites” of no guile.

Like Martin we are called to something greater than our own success.

Even – like Rosa we are called to put aside our own quiet life – and join something larger. We call it the Kingdom of God. So the calling and the challenge come to us in our time:

What is the Kingdom of God to look like here and now? How will we seek it?

JRL+ Come and see…. 

• 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)
• 1 Corinthians 6:12-20
• John 1:43-51
• Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

calling

Samuel. 

Here I am.

Samuel.

Imagine.

A boy. Alone. 

In a cold room.

Not alone. Not dark. Not really.

There is a dim lamp, still just burning. It hasn’t gone out yet.

So you can see, a glimpse, of what else is in the room. What else is in that room, but not in any other.

The Ark of the Covenant. 

Alone. But not alone. 

There is a voice.

It is not the voice of the old man. After all.

He heard the voice three times. Three times the old man said, I did not call you, go back to sleep. He tried. But the voice persisted. 

Samuel.

And the old man finally understood.

This old strange room where nothing unexpected happened, not for a long time. Where the routine had gone on for a long time, as if it would matter. Routine duties performed routinely.

The boy had learned the routine. He had routine duties, chores. Later that day, when it was day, he would open the door. Perhaps he swept the place out. Found oil for the lamp. Cleaned up after the sacrifices. But nothing happened. Nothing unexpected. Nothing unwanted. It was not as if the LORD were really there. Was it?

Samuel.

And the old man understood.

It was the LORD. The LORD was calling the boy.

It was not calling the old man, the high priest, or his wayward sons, his heirs to the post. No, his family was done.

This was something new, and very old.

Take off your shoes for this is holy ground. 

Here in this dark room in the middle of the night, where you might most expect it, and expected it the least.

It had been a long time since anyone had heard from God, and God had heard from anyone.

But now, 

Samuel.

And so the old man said, say something back. Say, here I am, LORD, your servant is listening. And the boy did.

And so it began. The LORD had something to tell him that day. A message for him to pass on. Something not so pleasant, but something true. And the boy said it. 

And it came to pass. And the boy grew up, and continued to say, and do, the things the LORD commanded, pleasant or no.

Among other things he anointed a king.  He found a young man, the youngest of eight brothers, and brought him out from among the flock he had been tending, and – from now on you will be shepherding people.

Centuries later it was just a story. A good story, but nevertheless. Shepherding people. Where was that shepherd king now? Now that we needed him. But what we had was an occupier. A terrifying overwhelming military force. There was no king, but Caesar. 

Was there? 

“We have found him.”

We have found the anointed one, the one to take the place of that ancient story. We have, and you should come see.

There were people by the side of a lake, mending nets. And to them came the man. From now on you will be fishing for people.

That ancient story was not so ancient anymore. The boy who had been tending sheep was pulled away to be king. The people who had been mending nets were pulled away to serve a king.

Not a king like any other, of course. Not one you could quickly see, as king. He was an ordinary man, maybe good looking (as that young shepherd had been), probably sweaty from hard days working as a carpenter’s son. Calloused hands. Dirty feet. 

Compelling voice. 

Not “Samuel” this time. But names came nevertheless. 

“Philip.” “Nathanael.” And “James” and “John” and “Andrew” and “Peter” and all the rest that followed.

Follow me, he said. Follow me, and the world will change. 

Follow me, and your life will change. 

And from that, all else will follow.

***

Come and see.

And from that all else would follow.

Those simple fishermen, as the song says, were the first. 

The first of many, from that small group of people, men and women and children in small villages by a small sea, and in the hills around, the message would spread. 

And become dangerous. And change things.

We should not be afraid, should we, if one small boy who slept in the dark cold strange sanctuary of the forgotten God, was not afraid, not afraid enough not to answer. 

We should not be afraid, should we, if a couple of guys hanging out by the beach a man approaches and says, I know what you were doing, I saw you, and now I call you.

We should not be afraid, should we, if the sanctuary lamp is nearly out, but not yet, if the occupation troops are nearby, if the Messiah has been expected for two thousand years, to come back, to us, in the silence of the midnight temple, in the glare of the lakeside beaches, in the simple moments of ordinary lives, made extraordinary, by that calm voice calling once more, should we?

Should we then be afraid if like old Eli we do not hear the voice, if like others we do not see the man, or hear his call, or have him come to us along the lakeshore as of old? 

We should not be afraid, should we, if we simply have the message, the news, the need, to be the ones to follow? 

Our task, our calling, our charge, is not so simple, or so scary, as the calling of Samuel in the Temple, David in the fields, or the disciples at the lakeshore. Perhaps. We are not often called to leave everything, at once or over time, that we have known, to strike out in a new direction, with new responsibilities and burdens. 

Sometimes a new calling would be a relief. Leave those nets un-mended, leave those sheep untended. Let that lamp go out. Drop everything and just – go. Light out for the territories. Pump the gas, fill the tires, wipe the windshield, and throw away the map. 

But it does not always work that way, does it? Perhaps not even for those disciples, those followers, that prophet, that king.

Samuel still had to sweep the temple, open the door, tend the lamp. But now he also had to tell the truth, the uncommon truth, uncomfortable truth, that he had to tell.

David could leave the sheep on the hill, but now he had to put up with Saul, with the onerous scut work duties of an apprentice king who could not call himself king or reveal himself king – if he knew himself that was his calling.

Philip, Nathanael, Andrew, Peter, James, John – they had a task to learn, a duty to fulfill, one no one had done before. Nobody had been in this situation before. The Messiah had not come before. (Keep it quiet!) 

Nobody has been in our situation before either. 

The lamp kept trimmed and burning, or sputtering out. The people demanding a king who get a shepherd boy.

The fishermen who expect nothing good out of Nazareth.

Would not we like they like things to be the way they were before? Before the pandemic, before the lost job, before the fall, before the call? But we too are called, perhaps not so simply or dramatically, perhaps not all at once, perhaps not so painfully, but we are called, too, to follow, as the first disciples were, to tell the truth, as the prophet was, to look after people, as the shepherd was. 

All of those, all of their duties and callings, are in us too, as the people of God. Together we have all those duties, those callings, and more: we have the tasks before us for our day.

How will we tend his sheep, fish for people, tell the truth? 

That is our challenge, to find out, and follow, today.

JRL+

Epiphany

STAR OF WONDER

We watched the skies. We looked for signs, for wonders; we looked for something in the heavens that was telling us, here on earth, that things were going to change. (We knew they had to.) At the Center for Portentous Phenomena, somewhere east of Jerusalem, we all saw something in the sky - and we came to an agreement: it must mean something of great significance.

The royal planet Jupiter and the planet we associated with the Hebrew People, Saturn, were in alignment three times in the year now known as 7 B.C.E. Three times: Hello! Hello! Hello! “We get the message,” we said, and we set out: for the royal city of the Jews.

We had been following that star for a very long way and we thought we knew what it meant. Across mountain passes filled with untimely snow, across grasslands and along river valleys and into the high desert, across and along the river Jordan and finally up the hill to the summit of the holy mountain - to the city of Zion, the city of (we thought) the kings of the Jews.

That was as far as we got but now we were in the dark.

Politely we inquired of the man in charge: where shall we find him? Where shall we find the one born king of the Jews? For we have been following - his star. (Not yours, pal.)

Oh, he said so politely, is it now? Well tell you what, when you find it, you let me know. I'll be right there - with bells on.

That smelled like dead fish.

But they had clued us in: this may be the royal city, now, but it is not always so: for as the prophet Micah has told us, Bethlehem is not least among the cities of Judah, for from her shall come the greatest of kings: Bethlehem - the city of the shepherd who was king, the city of David.

And so we went.

And then there it was again: that star. We had seen its rising; we are seeing it still. The sign, at last! There was a showing forth of the glorious grace of God: he has sent his king.

And we went into the town of Bethlehem, and inquired at all the right places. And then we were tired, and our camels needed rest.

So we turned their heads toward the caravansary, the place where all the long-distance travelers kept their animals and themselves, to find a place for ourselves in a wayfarers' inn, and, in the stables, a trough at which our animals could feed.

We had looked in all the right places, hadn't we? Among the great we had been courteous, and we had been inquiring minds following the clue of the prophets. And yet - here we were, at the end of our journey, and nothing in the world to show for it.

But there.

There, where we led the camels and the horses to water and food, there we found him. It was a baby, lying in the manger.

An ordinary baby. Of course! We had been looking for the love of God in extraordinary places - well, in this place here it was, in an ordinary looking family in an extraordinary situation. The love was there.

We must have been quite a sight! An eyeful for the caravan men, the stable hands, and the drovers: for you see, we had brought the gifts with us. And we, when we realized what we beheld, had run back and put on our best robes, to present the gifts and ourselves, to give him the honor that was his due - for this baby was the king we sought.

If we had been shepherds we might have brought him lambs' wool or goats' milk, or cheese; as we were wise in the ways of the skies we brought what they had told us, what they had led us to expect...

We carried with us the best gifts of our homelands: frankincense and gold, royal gifts - just as Micah had prophesied! - And one more, one we presented with some trepidation to the young family, myrrh. But the mother nodded: she knew.

And we knew.

And yet we all know something more: he is with us. He is still with us.

And still he calls us, draws us onward, to follow his star, to see the light shining in the darkest night, the light that the darkness has not, will not, cannot, overcome: the light of the love of God.

Come on! He leads us. And we follow. Amen. 

JRL+ 

• Isaiah 60:1-6
• Ephesians 3:1-12
• Matthew 2:1-12
• Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

Epiphanytide

Have you ever experienced an epiphany? Epiphanies are showings, revelations, appearances. They are God-sightings, times God shows up and transforms lives among us. 

On the Sundays of the season of Epiphany, which runs from January 6th to just before Lent, the Gospel lessons relate a series of epiphanies. The Gospel tells of times the Holy Spirit revealed that God is present in Christ. 

The season of Epiphany, or Epiphanies if you will, begins with the visit of the Magi - wise people from the East. There are three of them, generally, in pictures we see: and they are visiting three ordinary-looking people, a father, a mother, and a tiny infant.

Around them - at least in manger scenes - may also be shepherds and angels. But the essential image is three beholding three, and finding in that beholding a revelation of the mystery of Christ: that God has come down to us and become one of us, in order to bring us salvation.

The next Sunday we remember and celebrate the Baptism of our Lord. When Jesus came up out of the water a voice from heaven was saying, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I take delight.” (Matthew 3:17) Soon Jesus himself proclaims the words of the prophet, come true: “The people that lived in darkness have seen a great light.” (Cf. Isaiah 9:1-2) It is then that he begins to call disciples to follow him. (Matthew 4:19)

In the first few weeks of Epiphany the focus of the gospel is on Jesus, and discoveries of who he is. In his sermon on the mount, Jesus himself begins to turn the camera around. He shows the people God is at work in the world around them – and, as they begin to live as citizens of the kingdom of heaven, they begin to see Jesus at work in their own lives.

Somehow in the very struggle, the pain, even the persecution, that believers endure in this life, God is present - he is there, he is here, God is with us. In the middle of darkness there is a light shining that it cannot smother; in the middle of despair there is hope; in the middle of doubt, faith; in the middle of sorrow, joy. How can this be - unless God reigns?

In the middle of the Epiphany season there is a special celebration, which recalls our Christmas festivities. It is the feast of the Presentation of our Lord in the Temple (Candlemas or Candelaria). As the Christ Child is dedicated, Anna and Simeon, old and faithful people who have been awaiting this event, look on and praise God for sending salvation to his people.

The season of Epiphany ends with three beholding three again: the Transfiguration. On a mountaintop Peter, John, and James witness the meeting of Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. 

It’s a strange moment. It’s a moment when a man they thought they knew becomes, before his friend’s eyes, a living, visible revelation of God’s glory. Moses saw it; Elijah proclaimed it; Jesus - is it!

The disciples see Jesus’ face shine: he is clothed in white, radiant, transfigured; bathed in the light of the glory of God. A voice proclaims: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I take delight: listen to him.” (Matthew 17:5) These words hearken back to the beginning of his ministry and the purpose of his life – and call us forward to the fulfillment of time.

He is changed – but still their friend, he is awesome and intimate in one. No wonder they are astonished, no wonder they are afraid, no wonder they are for a moment demobilized: but Jesus comes to them, gently calling: “Stand up; do not be afraid.” (Matthew 17:7) And together they descend the mountain, to the world’s ordinary time.

Jesus exhorts us: Be that light; be the presence of God. Be the Good News of Jesus Christ - in your neighborhood, your city, and your school; in the desert or on the mountain; in your solitude and in the community. You cannot hide a city set upon a hill; let your light shine before people. Rejoice and be glad! “You are light for all the world.” (Matthew 5:14)

Let that light shine in all you do – as Jesus shone on the mountain. Don’t be afraid: God will turn fear into courage. All you can do is this: “Put first in your mind God’s kingdom and his justice; the rest will come.” (Matthew 6:33)

So we, showing Jesus in our lives, are sharing in these moments of Epiphany, these God-sightings in troubled times when God is mostly likely to show up, and come to us, gently calling, “do not be afraid”, and helping us get onto our feet again and walk with him.

Christ extends his hands to us as he did to those frightened men - and bids us rise. Let us, then, come to know and share God’s love with all people.

JRL+ 

Epiphany, Presentation, Transfiguration 2024

Christmas

One Christmas I got something unexpected in the mail – a shoebox, for women’s pumps, black, size 7-1/2 B.

Inside the box were three half-pound packages of coffee from Old Bisbee Roasters.

There was also a Christmas card. The outside had a cartoon of a little boy, presumably in a Christmas pageant, with a blanket on his head. It was captioned “What Christmas is really about.” Linus, Charlie Brown’s little brother, was reciting from the 2nd chapter of the Gospel of Luke:

“And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them… And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste…

The shepherds are not passive viewers; they take an active part in the story. And this is their action moment, when they speak, “Let us go down to Bethlehem…” and move toward the promised Child.

What did they go into the City of David to see?

Was the Child a nascent hero, like Hercules? Children’s books say that when Hercules was a baby he was already a superhero. He strangled snakes in his cradle. And who knows what he got up to when he began to walk – but:

The Christ Child was not Superbaby—he was a real baby. He was vulnerable and soft. His surroundings, warm and fragrant from the animals, were none of his choosing. He was dependent on those around him. Joseph and Mary looked after him. But as we know from the story of the shepherds, he was already drawing toward him those who sought the peace of God.

There in the City of David the Shepherd-king of old, not in a wayfarer’s inn but in a stable, there the King of all shepherds in a manger lay, offering himself as manna, bread of heaven, bread in the wilderness, bread of life – offering himself in obedience and offering that obedience as savior of all; and offering that obedience, to all, as the way that salvation led.

He was the promised Child, the shepherd-king of Isaiah 40:

“Comfort, oh comfort My people, Says your God….

“Like a shepherd He pastures His flock: He gathers the lambs in His arms

And carries them in His bosom; Gently He drives the mother sheep.”

(Isaiah 40:1,11 JPS)

Long ago and far, far away another shepherd abiding in the fields was keeping watch over the flocks by night: Cuthbert, a young man of 9th century Northumbria in northern England. He used to sing the psalms to the sheep at night.

And then one night, at the age of eighteen, he had a vision, or perhaps a dream, and the next morning he went over the hills to Melrose Abbey, where he became a monk. The story goes that that was the very night when Aidan, founder of Lindisfarne Priory on Holy Island, had died.

After some years as a monk, Cuthbert was sent to take Aidan’s place. And so he traveled, on what pilgrims now call Cuthbert’s Way, over the hills again, to Holy Island. There he found behind the priory a beach and across a small inlet of the North Sea a very small rocky islet. At night when the tide was low he would wade out to it, gaze back across the water to the priory where the monks were sleeping, and as they slept he would sing the psalms. “Like a shepherd he pastures his flock…”

The call to Melrose Abbey and the call to the priory on Lindisfarne were moments of decision for Cuthbert. He took action, and got involved in the story. He became a shepherd of men. In doing so, he recalled to mind the Lord that he served – that we serve: Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

The same Lord calls each of us – from field or from home – to come witness the coming of the Christ Child, to adore him, to receive him into our hearts, to share in his life – the fulfillment of the promise of ages – and to bring to the world hope and peace, joy and love, justice and mercy.

The shepherds of Bethlehem went over the hills and into town to see if Jesus really was the Messiah they’d been waiting for. And they found him:

The Shepherd King,

Who calls each of us by name,

Who watches over his flock,

And sings to them of Paradise.

JRL+ 

"Being called to action," an edited version of this meditation, was printed in the Arizona Daily Star, in the Keeping the Faith feature of the Home + Life section, on Sunday 31 December 2023, page E3... and posted on their website under the heading, "Being called to action by the Lord" (https://tucson.com/life-entertainment/local/faith-values/being-called-to-action-by-the-lord/article_fc6a6ec8-a413-11ee-84b2-033d49e48be7.html).

Christ the King

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

Psalm 100

Ephesians 1:15-23

Matthew 25:31-46

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp29_RCL.html

The Last Sunday after Pentecost, Christ the King, Proper 29 Year A RCL.

The Great Dictator (1940, Charles Chaplin). 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcP_4Nthzzs

St Matthews Tucson, AZ Christ the King Sunday - Last Sunday after Pentecost.

(21:12-28:42)

 https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9a/5b/29/9a5b29d42c88f7ef4eccbd9b633c2698.jpg

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him…” (Matthew 25:31-32a)

In my church and many others the Sunday just before Advent is the Feast of Christ the King.

One thing that happens at my house is that we watch old movies. Once we’re settled down and the movie starts, if we’ve left room on the couch two dogs appear and welcome themselves to sit with us. The other night’s movie was relevant for understanding the feast of Christ the King. It was called, “The Great Dictator", made in 1940. At the end of the movie, a Jewish barber finds himself standing in front of a crowd of people who are waiting for him to speak and he says things they don’t expect. How did he get there? The director, writer, and producer of the movie heard that people were saying, “You know, what? The great dictator of that country over there looks an awful lot like Charlie Chaplin!” And Charlie Chaplin, who was himself the writer, director, and producer of the movie, thought, “I can use that!” 

The movie begins with two characters who kind of look a lot like each other – and like Charlie Chaplin. One is the great dictator, who looks a lot like that great dictator you might guess the name of, who does all those things you would expect that fearless leader to do. He yells at his microphone, he makes arbitrary decisions. He causes life or death to happen for innumerable people without much sense of compunction or compassion. Meanwhile there’s a Jewish barber in the ghetto who really has no clue about any of this, except finds himself eventually in a concentration camp. Somehow, through the miracle of Hollywood, he is able to escape. In the course of his escape, he finds himself dressed in the uniform of the army, walking down a road. Meanwhile, nobody has seen the dictator for a while. He seems to have disappeared. Suddenly there’s this guy who looks just like him! — so they grab him, put him in a big car, and take him away. The next thing you know he is standing in front of a bunch of people who are expecting him to continue with the hellfire and the brimstone, the condemnation and the heavy “let’s get them” rhetoric. And instead he says, we need to show some compassion for each other and love each other. 

You know, I’ve never seen a king. I’ve thought about it. Forty-two years ago from a distance I saw the Prince of Wales, but somehow I don’t think that is an adequate experience for understanding what a king is. I’m not sure growing up in a country like ours that doesn’t have a king that I really get it, but not every king probably gets it either. 

Because if we look at the lessons in the Bible about what a king should be, from Ezekiel to the Gospels, they’re very subversive of that kind of king who’s just an arbitrary tyrant and authority without accountability. What we see is a whole different idea for what a real king is, and probably even if you had an idea for what the king was, this would kind of wreck it. Because the good king is not like that cruel tyrant at all, so the question will come back: “Have I ever seen a king?” What we hear in the prophet Ezekiel is that a king should be like a shepherd. A king should be, yes, in charge, but protecting, looking after the people, as a shepherd who’s doing their job right looks after the sheep – which can be dangerous, boring, self-sacrificing, and difficult, but it gives you a very different idea of leadership from arbitrary authority and crafty cruelty. 

If you look at the image of Christ the King, and ask what the feast is about, because if the king is an arbitrary tyrant who has no accountability, who just bosses people around… Do we really think that Christ is like that? Would we want to celebrate that? Uh, uh, no. 

In fact, what the feast of Christ the King was implemented for was to say, that’s not what the leader of people really should be doing. That’s not how we should be with each other, that’s not what a real king really is. There’s really only one king, and that’s the one who we’re talking about today. If we look at the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 25, there is a wonderful image of Christ the King in all his glory, but the image I think that stays with us from the gospel is the king who is not in all his glory, who is a little more prepared than a Jewish barber who’s just been in a concentration camp, but a Jewish barber who’s just been in a concentration camp comes a lot closer to the real king, than the glorious self-aggrandizing dictator, who also look like Charlie Chaplin. In fact, when we see the king – Have we seen the king? – maybe we all have… Have we ever seen someone sick or hungry or naked or thirsty? Have we ever visited someone sick or in prison? Well, then, maybe we have seen a king, after all.

“Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’

(Matthew 25:37-40)

Talents, Gifts, and Blessings

 Do you ever wonder: are gifts something we give - or something we receive… 

There was a priest, named Henri Nouwen, who had some words to say about gifts, which Tara Ward has turned into a song. Here are those words:

Given

we may be little, insignificant in the eyes of this world

but when we realize that God has sent us to the world as blessed

our lives will multiply and grow and fill the needs of others

our gift is not what we can do but who we are

our gift is not what we can do but who we are

who can we be for each other? who can we be, Lord, for the world?

who can we be for each other? who can we be?

how different would our life be if we believed every single gesture

every act of faith or love or joy or peace or word of forgiveness

will multiply as long as people will receive it...

our gift is not what we can do but who we are

who can we be for each other? who can we be, Lord, for the world?

who can we be for each other? who can we be?

We are given. We are given. We are given.

We are given. We are given. We are given.

our gift is not what we can do but who we are

our gift is not what we can do but who we are

(Words: Henri J. M. Nouwen. Music: Tara Ward, Church of the Beloved, 2008.)

Jesus told a story about a man who went on a journey. While he was away he trusted his servants with his property, each according to his ability. From each he received according to their need.

There was a servant with five talents, and keep in mind that a talent is the equivalent of an ordinary person's wages for many years, who'd made five talents more. His need was to be faithful with what he had been given, and to bear good fruit from it. Likewise the one with two talents - only two: but he made two more. And he bore good fruit, and was faithful.

Then there was the third servant, whose need seemed to be: safety. Avoiding risk. Avoiding failure. Perhaps even avoiding the risk of success - of an outcome beyond his control. He did take the talent he had been given but he did not take the responsibility that came with it. He buried it. He hid it in the ground. He turned inward, and nothing could grow. When his master returned, he had earned nothing - he had nothing to show for all he'd received.

And so even the responsibility he had been given, the one talent with which he'd been entrusted, was taken away from him and assigned to the fruitful and obedient servant who had made ten from five. 

The faithful and obedient servants, by contrast, had turned outward - trusting as they had been trusted - and what they had been given grew under their care.

Do you remember the tree Jesus told about, the one that had borne no fruit for many years? His servant, the gardener, said, give me one more year, one year to prune the tree and dig around it and give it nourishment; then we'll see.

I knew a tree like that. It had not been cared for, or pruned, for many years. A friend who knew trees told me how to prune it, to eliminate cross branching, thin it out, and guide the tree, helping it along in the way it wanted to grow. And with permission from the landlord, I began to prune, thin, and water. And the next spring: apples.

It is as if we have been asked to dance. We can stay on the bench - oh, I have a headache; oh, I cannot be sure that I wouldn't look ridiculous, oh, I'm no good at that - or we can accept the hand that is stretched to ours, clasp it, rise from our place by the wall, and join in the dance. However freely, however clumsily, we begin - and our place in the dance, the great dance of the world, which otherwise would have been empty, is filled - and filled with joy.

I have worried I’d be the one with only one talent. I thought I had to have five. But look at the guy in the middle: he only has two. But he makes them grow, to two more.

We may feel we only have so many talents - so many gifts to work with, only so much treasure and worth and value and promise. But we have what our master has given us.

Look around and you will see many gifts, borne under many names, behind many faces.

In church we have many gifts, more than I will count, but here are some of them:

We are good at celebrating.

We are welcoming, hospitable.

We are willing to love people who are different from us.

We hang in there with each other. We work together for each other. We practice faithfulness. We keep at it. We persevere. We keep the faith.

We have, dare I say it, courage and hope. And what abides beyond all else, love.

What we have may seem small in the world's measures, as small as mustard seed.

But from us, from our lives, from our faithful obedience, keeping to God's promise, we can realize something wonderful and very, very big: We are God's people. And we are blessed.

We are blessed when we are poor, not because we are poor: we are blessed because we will be God's heirs.

We are blessed when we are hungry, not because we are hungry, but because God will feed us.

We are blessed who are mourning, because God will comfort us.

We are blessed when we are meek, because we will inherit the earth.

If we desire justice so strongly it is like a hunger, we are blessed, because that hunger will be satisfied.

When we show mercy, we are among the blessed: God will show mercy to us.

The pure in heart among us are blessed, because they will see God.

Those who make peace are blessed; they will be called children of God.

Even if you are persecuted or slandered when you stand up for justice, you are blessed: yours is the land where justice comes from, where you belong, where your true value is known -the kingdom of heaven.

We are blessed - we are blessed with all we need, supplied by the hand of God like a shepherd feeding his sheep.

We are blessed - but not for ourselves. We are blessed, that we might bless: and those who need our blessing are the ones we are here for.

God put us here in this place in this time for a purpose: to celebrate and convey the gracious love of God, to welcome our neighbors into God's holy place and into the kingdom where our God reigns, where all are the beloved of God, and all share in his blessings, where love abides and faith perseveres and hope yields its increase in abundant harvests.

We are here to be the people of God - and our gift, the gift of each other in the presence of a loving God, is what we have to share with the world. We are blessed, and we are called, to be the people whom God has created us to be. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that whoever puts their life in his hands will receive life in abundance, for eternity.

Whether we have one talent or two or five, the challenge is the same, because: We are his children. We are blessed; we are his blessing for the world. 

Our gift is not what we can do but who we are. Our gift is not what we can do but who we are.

Script for the sermon given at Santa Cruz Lutheran Church, Tucson, Arizona, Sunday, November 19th 2023.

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, AProper28, Henri Nouwen, Judges 4:1-7, Matthew 25:14-30, Psalm 123, Tara Ward, The Parable of the Talents