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The Rev. April Berends Text: Hebrews 11:1–3;, 8–16 Psalm 33:12–22; Luke 12:32–40 “Do not be afraid, little flock.” Fear not. We have heard these words before in Luke’s gospel. They are the words that the angel Gabriel speaks to aged Zechariah, when he announces that a son will be born to him and his wife Elizabeth, they who had waited so long for a child. “Fear not.” These are the words that Gabriel speaks to a trembling teenage girl when he brings the message that she will carry Jesus in her womb. They are the words spoken by the angel of the Lord in the shepherds’ field, “Do not be afraid…I bring you good news of great joy for all the people.” They are the words that Jesus uses to summon his first disciples after they haul in a boatful of fish. Peter, James and John promptly leave their nets and follow him. These are the words that herald miraculous births, joyful news, and calls to loving action. So why does Jesus use them now? The news that he proclaims will no doubt raise some anxiety. His message is not easy. As the words of angels cause those in their presence to tremble, so too, does the cost of discipleship. Jesus goes on to instruct his followers. Sell your possessions, he says, and give alms. Strive for the eternal, not for the things of earth which do not endure. This is hard news for a group of Christians in the first century, many of whom probably struggled just to get by. The radical message that we find in Luke’s gospel, a vision of a new reign where the powerful are cast down and the lowly lifted up, likely did not have much appeal among the upper classes of society. It was fearsome news, indeed, that the order of things, our structures of power, would be turned on their heads. It’s clear from the number of times Jesus mentions financial wealth in the gospels that money is an important subject to him. Like any good leader, he understands that power is closely tied to financial gain, at least earthly power is. It’s also tied to personal well-being, but not always in the ways that we might think. We toil to make money; we worry about spending it; we worry about keeping it. Will it grow enough so that I can retire and still have something to leave for my children? Will we ever pay off the mortgage? The stock market sure hasn’t been doing well lately. Can I afford to take that vacation? Am I making the right investments? Am I being paid what I’m worth? Is the price on that gallon of milk correct? Did it really go up thirty cents? It’s my kid’s birthday this week—will I be able to work enough overtime this week to pay for that new bike? It’s easy to spend a lot of time and effort accumulating and worrying about possessions. And it’s easy to let our possessions possess us. Jesus reframes the issue, though. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” All that is worth having, God has already given, and gladly so. It brings God joy to share with us the eternal reign of heaven. And that should be our starting point. Treasure that, Jesus says. But Luke’s message is not just about the gift of eternity in the presence of God. It is about who God is and how we should live as God’s people. God is generous, has given us all that we need, the promise of eternal joy and wholeness, and we have a role in that promise. Jesus tells us to be dressed for action, like servants waiting for our master to return from a wedding banquet, listening for the knock at the door so that we can welcome him home. The promise is set before us, but we don’t just sit back and accept the gift. The gift must be received with our lives. When God called Abraham and Sarah, as recounted in today’s passage from Hebrews, the promised land wasn’t just dropped in their laps. No, God called them to pick up everything and embark on a journey. They never lived to see the promised land, but that promise shaped their lives. And they entertained angels along the way. Be dressed for action, Jesus says, ready to receive Christ, who may come knocking in the middle of the night. I moved to Washington from Miami, Florida, where I had the privilege of knowing an extraordinary man who knew what it meant to be dressed for action. François was the head of the custodial staff at a church community that I was a part of in Miami. A hardworking Haitian immigrant, he was trying to support his family in the U.S. and in Haiti. He did not have many worldly possessions. But he was dressed for action. François had a collection of unusual T-shirts that he would wear on those hot, tropical days. One of them said, “Fix your eyes on Jesus.” Another read, “Thank you Jesus, you save my soul.” When asked about these T-shirts, François replied that he had them specially made for himself and others in his community. “God has done so much for me. It’s not enough,” he said, “to love God on the inside. I have to love God on the outside, too.” He was, in a very literal way, dressed to meet Jesus. As he went about his work, hard work, he lived a life of thanksgiving, ready to share the love of Christ with neighbors and strangers alike. His sights were fixed. And if that wasn’t already clear from the words on his t-shirts, one could sense it in the way that he lived. François left Haiti for a better life in the United States. One of my Haitian friends once told me that in Haiti, people think that the streets must be made of gold in America. They hear stories of how there are pools full of money. Here we have wishing wells fountains full of pennies and nickels and dimes. “A penny is a lot of money to someone in Haiti,” he told me. For many of us it is a wish that we can throw away, for them it is whether or not they will eat tonight. “God has done so much for me.” François does not have an easy life in the United States. But he does eat supper every night. And for every stick of furniture in his house, every bit of food upon his plate, he gives thanks to God. François’ homeland is neither the continent of Africa, the land of his ancestors, nor the island of Haiti, nor the shores of the U.S., where coins shimmer in the water. His homeland is the eternal realm of God’s grace. And it is a gracious God that we serve. For the parable that Jesus tells takes a strange and wonderful turn when the servants who have stayed awake to greet their master open the door to find themselves guests at his own table. “He will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.” Christ sets forth a generous model of how we are to live, where the one who is powerful sets the table, and makes those who have nothing his honored guests. The gospel of Luke tells us of a reign that involves a new economic order, a way of being community that is grounded in generosity. Jesus calls us, by word and example, to loosen our grip on those things which possess us so that we might freely serve. He calls us to set our lives in order, to be ready for God’s reign breaking in all around us. So how can we be dressed for action? First, we must consider what we hold dear. Is it our cars, our jewelry, our food, our entertainment, our homes? Or is it our relationships with God and with our neighbors and this fragile earth? When we think of what we have, do we acknowledge that it comes from the hand of God? Or do we pat ourselves on the back for having obtained it? Do we cling tightly, or do we give freely? We live in a country where an average fountain in a tourist district contains enough money to feed a family in a developing country for months, and yet we still have poor in our midst. Right here in Washington, the capital of the most powerful nation on earth, women work in brothels as indentured servants, employers fail to pay workers a living wage, and young men put bullets in the heads of boys who grew up on the same block over drug money. The reign of God can break in, will break in, does break in, even to a world such as this. God calls us to be a part of this restoration by relaxing our grip on those things which possess us, and using our resources and our talents to reframe the structures of society, that we might usher in the fullness of God’s reign here on earth. When the great civil rights leader, Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of the promised land, he was not just referring to a distant future, he was also speaking of the bus riders in Montgomery, the sanitation workers in Memphis, the jails in Birmingham, and all places in the world where God’s people live oppressed. “It’s alright to talk about ‘streets flowing with milk and honey,’ but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here and his children who can’t eat three square meals a day.” * The faith that is shared by Abraham and Sarah, by those first disciples of Jesus, by the little flock of Christians to whom Luke’s gospel speaks, is a faith that calls us to be dressed for action, speaking out on the issues of our day. It is a faith that calls us to be politically active, fiscally generous, and compassionate in every area of our life as we journey together toward the promised land. Christ calls us to respond gratefully, with love that risks, love that gives, love that answers, love that never stops hoping for the beauty of heaven, and never stops seeking to show that beauty here on earth. * Martin Luther King, Jr. “I’ve been to the mountaintop.” Speech delivered April 3, 1968 in Memphis, TN. |