Open Hearts

Proper 17C; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Luke 14:1-14; St. Paul’s, 8/28/2016

Jim Melnyk: “Open Hearts”

We’re going to have a bit of an interactive sermon to begin with this morning.  “I want you to hold out your right hand, palm up [for a moment].  Now, imagine that someone is placing, one after another, all sorts of good gifts in [your hand].  Make the good things whatever you like – M&Ms, weekends in Cancun, a winning lottery ticket, falling in love, having perfect children, being wise, talented, good-looking, and humble besides – anything.  But now consider.  There are two ways your hand can respond to those [good gifts].  It can respond to them as a [grasping] hand and try to clutch, to hold onto the single good that is in it at any moment – thus closing itself to all other possible goods; or it can respond as an [open] hand – in which case it will simply lie there perpetually open to all the goods in the comings and goings of [life – life which is an ongoing dance of opportunity and grace]” (Parables of Grace, Robert Farrar Capon, William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1988. P. 103).

It’s a rather simple exercise in spirituality.  Again, open your hand – think of something good being placed upon it.  Close your hand and hold that good thing within your hand.  Now, with your hand closed, think of another good gift coming to you – to receive it, you must open your hand, but to open your hand is to risk what you already hold.  Such is the struggle Jesus invites us into as we read the lesson from Luke’s gospel this morning.  It’s a lesson of being open-handed – of being open-handed before God and before each other.  It’s a tough lesson to hear – it’s a tough lesson to learn – And it’s an even tougher lesson to live.

Episcopal priest and author, Robert Farrar Capon, writing about this exercise has this to say about Jesus: Jesus “was open at all times to what God put into his hand and he remained faithful in that openness until death – at which point God, by the power of the resurrection, put the whole world in [Jesus’] hand” (ibid).

In this morning’s lesson Luke invites us into the home of a leader among the Pharisees.  Jesus is there, once again breaking bread with all sorts of people.  As the group sits down to supper, we notice that the other guests are all watching Jesus quite intently.  Some of the guests are rather blatant with their stares while others try to keep watch without appearing to do so.  “What will this Jesus do today,” they seem to wonder.  I’m sure his presence gave the party a new twist – none of the “same old-same old” conversations and clichéd observations.  Inviting a controversial figure to dinner is always a good way of breaking out of the routine.

Jesus doesn’t take long to live up to the expectations and raise a few eyebrows or drop a few jaws.  Our reading this morning leaves this part of the story out, but almost immediately a man with dropsy – most likely some form of edema – stands before Jesus.  Jesus asks his host and the guests, “Is it lawful to cure people on the Sabbath or not?”  Then, not even waiting for their response, Jesus heals the man and sends him on his way.  It’s a social, political, and religious faux pas to say the least.  It seems to be a bit of “in your face”, on Jesus’ part, an affront to his host, and dangerous. 

Then, to make matters worse, he goes on with the portion of the story we’ve heard this morning.  He calls into question the status-grabbers at the meal – those jockeying for the best seats.  And, as if that’s not enough, he picks on the host for his choice of guests, telling him whom he should invite the next time around!  And if we were to read further in the chapter from Luke, we would see that the challenges don’t get any easier – even getting to the point of Jesus saying something about needing to hate one’s family and even one’s life.  Oh, this Jesus certainly doesn’t disappoint his listeners when it comes to hard, controversial, and perhaps even outrageous sayings.

So Jesus leaves us at this point in the meal with at least three points to ponder.  Why did he choose to heal the man on the Sabbath?  What does he mean about humbling oneself and taking the lower seat?  And what does he hope to accomplish with all this talk about changing our guest lists to those who are poor, crippled, lame, and blind?

I think it all goes back to Capon’s idea of open-handedness.  It goes back to the idea of recognizing and acting upon the opportunities and grace with which we are presented from time to time.  I think the stories have to do with paying attention to the people around us, and to the Spirit of God within us – always calling us to life and action in the name of God.

To begin with, Jesus didn’t have to heal the man with dropsy right then.  At best they may have only been a few hours away from sundown and the end of the Sabbath – at worst they were less than 24 hours away from the end of the Sabbath.  The man could have waited.  It wasn’t so much an act of compassion as it was a teaching moment offered by a rather special teacher. 

Jesus approaches it much like a doctor in a teaching hospital might, entering a patient’s room with a dozen Med-students in tow.  “Well, what do you think we should do in this case, Ms. Jones?  Is it lawful to heal a person on the Sabbath?”  And the teaching in this moment is this: The Law loses its power and its promise if it becomes an end unto itself.  First and foremost the Law is about relationships.  It identifies those who follow it as people of God.  It is never something to hide behind, it is never something to use as a weapon, it is never meant to keep one away from the love of God.  It is meant to be followed as a loving response to a God who chooses to love first.

Then there’s the fight for the right seats – the ones closest to the guest of honor.  Jesus offers those present a quote from Proverbs: “Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told, ‘Come up here,’ than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.” (Prov. 25:6-7).  “When you place yourself in the seat of the highest honor” Jesus seems to be saying, “be ready to get bumped when someone really important shows up – and be ready to suffer the embarrassment.”  In fact, we can almost hear Jesus saying, “Stop taking yourselves so seriously and start taking the people of God around you a little more seriously!”  And after all, that’s what humbling oneself really is – “not cultivating low self-esteem,” as one theologian puts it, “but simply living according to heaven’s priorities – realizing the capacity for love and all its inclusiveness – [which is] the true measure of a person” (H. King Oehmig, Synthesis Commentary).

Finally there’s the incredible tension that comes from wrestling with Jesus’ talk about NOT inviting our peers to the party, but inviting the poor, the cripple, the lame and the blind instead.  In theological theory it sounds pretty good – but in practice among proper Episcopalians – well, it catches us up short a bit. 

Could it be the answer finds itself somewhere between the harsh reality of a strict, literal interpretation of what Jesus says and the pious, emptiness of pure hyperbole – though this whole section of Luke’s gospel seems to be chock full of Semitic hyperbole, which was used to grab our attention and make a point.  Again, the exercise of open-handedness may give us a clue.  To open our hands when we’re holding something we really want will certainly cause us to risk what we already have.  Jesus calls us to take the risks – to risk the friends, to risk the families, to risk the status, to risk the comfort of living life safely.

In his book, More Than Wanderers, Jim Fenhagen wrote about this very challenge when he penned the words, “Ministry has many faces.  It begins to happen when we discover that Christ lives in us.  It is the direct result of an inner transformation that causes us to see the world with new eyes.  Transformation is [always] born out of struggle,” Fenhagen claims. 

“It is deepened through [a] continuous encounter with the Word of God, [which is Jesus himself].  It is sustained by a life lived in the community of faith, [and] it happens as we encounter another human being at a level deep enough to break us away from old ways of thinking and doing.”

Jesus offers us an invitation to become aware of all the categories of brokenness – of separation – of sin – that do not exist in the Kingdom of God, but which exist in abundance in our world – and perhaps all too often, in our own lives.  Jesus offers us an invitation to risk the transforming power of God working in our lives to change the way we live and move and have our being – to open our hands and open our hearts – to change how we think, how we love, and how we act in this world.  It is the riskiest of all the things Jesus has to say in these stories today.  Dare we listen and respond to the challenge?

More Than Once in a Lifetime

Proper 16C; Isaiah 58:9b-14; Hebrews 12:28; Luke 13:10-17 

St. Paul’s Smithfield, 8/21/16 

Jim Melnyk: “More Than Once in a Lifetime”

She had spent most of her adult life looking at the tops of other people’s feet more than looking them in the eye.  It was easier for her that way, simply because looking up to see the faces around her was both difficult and painful.  She had been bent over and twisted for eighteen years and no one had been able to bring her any healing.  I imagine her being named Naomi at birth – a beautiful, traditional name, which means “pleasantness.”

I see her as a child who loved the name, but as she grew older, and her body grew more tortured, she had taken to calling herself “Mara,” just like Naomi in the Book of Ruth.  Mara, you see, means “bitter,” and her life had become more and more bitter as she looked less and less toward the sun.

Naomi, or Mara if we are willing to honor her wishes, seems to have no hope, and she’s not even sure why she still comes to the synagogue – though once in a while a couple of kind-hearted folks would give her a few coins, and that helped.  As word about Jesus being present spread around the synagogue that Sabbath morning Mara still kept to herself – she certainly did not get close enough to see even the tops of his feet – she was unwilling to break tradition in the worship space to approach him.  What good would it do anyway?  You see, Mara had become so used to looking down all the time that she had lost any hope of standing tall ever again.

And then comes the ringing voice of the Teacher, calling Mara over by his side. As she studies his feet, Mara feels his hands lightly touching her head as he says, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment!”  Mara’s head snaps up at his words and her spine follows along. There, looking right into her eyes is Jesus, and it takes her another moment before she realizes she is not only looking at his face instead of his feet, but that the whole gathering that Sabbath morning is staring at the two of them in wonder.  Tightened muscles upon tightened muscles relax as she tests the movement of her shoulders and neck – all the while her gaze fixed firmly upon Jesus – her once seemingly unrealistic dreams a new reality.  Could it truly be that her name is once again Naomi?  And in that moment she begins to praise God!

Now, if you’re like me, you might hope this wonder in and of itself would mark the end of the story.  Jesus, moved by pity and compassion for Mara, speaks a word of wholeness and that which was broken beyond repair is made new.  But alas, the story continues.  “The leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, ‘There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.’”

The story doesn’t tell us why the leader of the synagogue acts the way he does.  There can be all sorts of reasons – none of them foreign to our twenty-first century world.  Perhaps he cannot deal with the notoriety of Jesus which challenges his leadership – possibly a bit of professional jealousy.  Perhaps the Sabbath had become more of an obligation for the leader rather than the delight it was originally meant to be for God’s people.  Perhaps he fervently believed that Jesus stretching out his hand to heal on the Sabbath was truly a violation of the Law.  We just don’t know without being able to sit down with the man and talk it out.

Jesus, on the other hand, seems to have a handle on what’s going on here.  "’You hypocrites!’” Jesus seems to growl out at those around him. “‘Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?’"

Seamus Heaney writes:

“Human beings suffer,

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.”

(“Doubletake” by Seamus Heaney)

Jesus, looking around on that Sabbath morning, realizes the reality of human pain and suffering that would allow his people to look after their livestock on the Sabbath, but not reach out to help a fellow human being in pain – a fellow human being in need.  Surely he recalls the words of the prophet Isaiah we just heard read a few minutes ago: “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday” (Isaiah 58: 9b-10). 

How, Jesus wonders, how could caring for one’s donkey while ignoring the need of a fellow human being – someone created in God’s own image – another child of Abraham and Sarah – how could we ever consider such disparity of action to be making the Sabbath a delight?

So, you see, today’s Gospel story isn’t first and foremost about the power of Jesus heal, or even the woman’s faith – which isn’t mentioned at all.  The healing act in today’s Gospel story has to do with changing our attitudes and actions when they value rules and traditions over and above life itself.

Seamus Heaney has more to say about human suffering and the heart-sick longing for a new reality:

“History says, don’t hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime the longed-for tidal wave

Of Justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme”

(“Doubletake” by Seamus Heaney).

In every age there are people who give up hope – people who hear the comfortable say to them, “Don’t hope this side of the grave – don’t complain – and don’t look to change the system – just leave things as they are and look for your glorious reward in heaven.”  Easy words on the lips of those who have it easy – and both Isaiah and Jesus refuse to give us an out when it comes to feeding the hungry and caring for the afflicted.

Jesus tells us that in him – and in the coming of the kingdom of God – “Justice can indeed rise up; and hope and history can indeed rhyme.”  But Jesus’ words to those gathered in the synagogue, which echo the prophet’s words to Israel upon their return from exile, remind us that we have a part to play in all this.  We can play a part in removing the burdensome yoke from our fellow human beings’ shoulders.  We can stop the finger pointing and the speaking of evil – and challenge others to do the same as well – admonitions especially appropriate in the modern day political climate.  We can change systems.

God seeks to work in and through us to help make hope and history rhyme.  God seeks to work in and through us so that such a reality isn’t just a “once in a lifetime” event, but rather becomes the natural way of life for God’s people and for this world.

History says “Don’t hope this side of the grave.”  History says, “Take the name Mara, which means ‘bitter.’”  Jesus says, “I am the one who bends history towards wholeness.  I am the harbinger of hope.  I am the One who brings “a kingdom that cannot be shaken” – a kingdom that welcomes the whole of creation into the presence of the Holy One (Heb. 12:28).  Jesus is the One who says to us all, “Open your hearts and follow me.”