Reading: Luke 12:32-40
When Jesus taught, healed and gathered alternative communities of all kinds of people, some people saw in him the perfect expression and fulfilment of every good thing about religion and God. Using the language and imagery they knew, both they and he also called what they were experiencing, "the kingdom of God."
After his death, resurrection and ascension, the early church believed he would return to continue and complete that transformation of the world, and in writing the Gospels they remembered and collected different things he had said about it. In today's reading, three of these sayings -- or "sound-bites about the kingdom and Jesus' return," are edited together to create a single teaching sequence.
“My little flock,” Jesus says, “Do not
be afraid,
for it is your Father’s good pleasure
to give you the kingdom.
Sell what you have and share with
others in need;
for where your treasure is, there your
heart will be, too.”
Oh, how we count on
this! The promise of the kingdom of
God!
Whether we believe
all the time in God or not, or even know what we believe about God at different
times in our life, I think we somehow still all the time believe in and hang on
to the promise of the kingdom of God.
With all that it means about peace and justice for all; the provident
abundance of life; the well-being of all creatures, all people, all creation
itself; the balance of all needs and wants; the fulfilment of our deepest
potential as persons and as a species; and the expression of the glory, the
life and the love of God in all things.
Something in us
resonates with that promise, and we count on it being true in some way.
But at the same time,
it’s easy to fear. Because we are so
little. What’s that old Celtic
fisherman’s prayer? “Oh Lord, my boat is
so small, and the sea is so big.” A
prayer without the courage to ask for anything while out on the sea. Not fish.
Not safety. Not anything but that
God be aware of my little boat, and not let me be alone.
And we are a little
flock, we few summer-folk here today.
But that’s not uncommon for folks who gather around Jesus. When Jesus first spoke these words his followers
were a little flock, a handful of disciples not always sure just what this, he,
and they might in the end come to.
The church that
emerged after the resurrection was also for the most part small in numbers. Scattered.
Unsure a lot of the time about their future. Kind of making it up as they went, following the
Spirit’s lead one step at a time, trusting that after each one there would be
another.
And aren’t we there
again today? We here in Winona and the
church in general in a post-Christian world.
Fewer in numbers than we used to be.
No longer sure of the big picture.
And no longer as convinced as we used to be of our grand scenarios of
what we thought God would do. Having to
learn again to follow the Spirit’s lead one step at a time, and to trust that
after each one there will be another.
And don’t we feel the
same way as individuals? Small against the
powers and events of the day. Unsure in
the face of the world’s problems and dysfunctions. Anxious about all we have to face in the
course of a lifetime.
When my mom died
unexpectedly in hospital after heart surgery I flew to Winnipeg as soon as I
could to see her body before anything was done to it, and what struck me and has
stayed with me is how small she seemed.
In her life she had always seemed so big – strong and capable of doing so
much. But as she aged and suffered
accidents and illness, she shrank and in the end was so diminished, such a small
echo of what she had been.
But “fear not, my
little flock,” Jesus says. “For it is
the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” All the fullness of creation completed, all
the joy of a world of abundance, peace and well-being for all. Without exclusion, injustice or
isolation. Where all have a home and
safe place to be, and be together as one.
And how does this
happen?
I think of two other passings
here within our congregation that show us something of the giving and the
living of the kingdom among us. A number
of years ago, Jack Durfey died. Jack was
a pillar and patriarch of this church and of Winona. By his spirit of public service and personal
commitment he helped make this church and this village, good places to be. He could have left for bigger pastures early
on in his life, but he stayed and for the rest of his life he used whatever he
had and did whatever he could for the good of others around him. For many of us it’s summed up in the
directions he gave his children from his hospital bed when he knew he was
dying. “Be sure the people get their
cherries.” Every year he shared the
fruit of his orchard as much as he could with a number of people around town,
and even from his hospital bed he wanted to be sure this was done.
I think too of Marg
Aitken, who passed away last Sunday. For
so many years she fought through pain, illnesses and crippling weakness, none
of which, though, dimmed her desire to be of use to others, and do good to
them. And even this last time as she
grew so ill that she had to go into hospital, one of the last things she did
was to follow through on a commitment to her grandchildren that she had begun as
soon as they started coming into her life, and that she certainly wasn’t going
to stop doing now just because she was dying.
And this is how the
door opens to the kingdom God wants to give to us. It happens when we open the door to others, to
do what we can for them, and to share with them what has been given to us and
put in our hands.
It’s like Jesus goes
on to say, when he invites us to
“Be dressed for action and have your
lamps lit;
be like those who are waiting
for their master to return from the
wedding banquet,
so they may open the door for him
as soon as he comes and knocks.
For, those slaves whom the master finds
alert when he comes?
I tell you, he will fasten his belt and
have them sit down to eat,
and he will come and serve them.”
In this passage, the
word for “he comes” – referring to the coming of Jesus, is not future tense
verb – as though it’s in some time still to come. Nor is it the idea of a once-for-all coming –
some singular event that by itself changes everything. Instead, it’s a present tense verb, meaning
he comes here and now. And it refers to
ongoing, repetitive action, meaning he comes again and again, probably all
through our life and the life of the world.
And the way Jesus
tells it, he comes not in judgement. Not
in great displays of power and threat.
But more happily, even joyfully.
He comes from a wedding banquet – back home at last at some ungodly hour
with his new bride on his arm, ready to bring her into his household, to introduce
her to his servants, and to show them who they will be expected now to welcome
into their lives, to serve, and even take orders from.
Jesus often speaks of
the kingdom of God as a wedding banquet – as that happy occasion when God and what
God loves are brought together and made one.
God is the bridegroom, and the bride – the desire of God’s heart, is all
people, all creatures, all creation itself that God has called into being.
So when Jesus comes
to us – comes home over and over again from some wedding banquet, it’s with
some person, some group of people, some creatures, some part of creation that
he tells us he loves, that he has bound himself to for life, and that he now
expects and invites us as his servants to love and serve as well.
And what can we do,
but be ready? We don’t know exactly when
he will come. Nor do we always know just
who he will bring with him this time. Or
if we will like her, or him, or them, or it.
Whether it will be an easy fit into the household as it’s been, or will
everything now be changed, maybe even turned upside down.
But it doesn’t really
matter, does it?
What matters is that we
are called and invited to love and to serve whoever and whatever he loves, and
God loves. And that as we bend and spend
ourselves to share what we can, to serve their needs as we are able, and to use
the things that have been put into our hands for their well-being, we ourselves
will be cared for, be nurtured and fed by him, and will be counted eternally and
happily as God’s beloved and faithful servants, part of a greater company than
we might ever imagine.
* * * * *
A few questions that emerge:
- The sermon names two members of the Fifty congregation in whose ways of living and of dying we see something of what it is "to live and to give the kingdom of God." Is there someone else you could name in the same way? What about them makes you think of them like that?
- In the sermon Jesus is pictured as the master of the house who goes out to marry the desire of his heart -- some person, group of people, creatures, or part of creation itself he especially loves for some reason. And we might never know who or what this is, until he brings his beloved home to us, and invites us (as servants of the house) to welcome whoever or whatever it is, serve them, and put the resources of the house at their disposal. What persons, groups of people, causes or parts of creation has Jesus brought home to the United Church, or even just to Fifty, that we have easily welcomed and served? Or that we have have found it harder to welcome and serve?
- We all are also his beloved. Is there a time when you felt especially "led home" by Jesus as his beloved, and then thoroughly welcomed and served (or not) by his servants in the house?
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