Just Do It!

 

While it’s easy to dismiss the disciples’ request (Luke 17: 5-10) for "more faith" as trivial, don’t we sometimes feel somewhat lacking in our fiath as the disciples did? In typical human fashion we have this notion that faith is something we can measure and naturally want more of it. But can you blame the disciples or us? After spending the summer reading Luke’s Gospels we sometimes ask who in the world can live up to Jesus’ expectations as characterized in the parables. Is it any wonder that we feel inadequate and think we need more faith?

We sometimes feel overwhelmed by what it is we think it means to be a “good Christian,” indulging in self-doubt, not quite sure if we really have what it takes to follow Jesus. It’s only human to think that being a disciple is beyond our human abilities and out of reach. But isn’t that the whole point? We are only human and God loves us for our humanity, reminding us that faith rarely is heroic and we need to manage our expectations accordingly. 

When I truly accept that we are spiritual beings on the way to our creator having a human experience faith takes on new meaning. Yet, can we really define what is undefinable. When we feel daunted by the ego's wallowing in inadequacy we need to remember that living our lives in faith can be pretty ordinary. It’s what Theresa of Avilla calls the “pots and pans of life.”  I think that’s what Jesus meant when he compared faith to a tiny mustard seed that grows quietly and beyond any expectation. It’s not about quantity; all God wants is for us to just be. Even the simplest things done with love and compassion can have a huge impact.

And so Jesus tells his us that we have all the God-given opportunities to do whatever it is that needs to be done. It’s all the ordinary stuff we do all the time and, taken together and blessed by God, it’s pretty extraordinary! And just like the Nike slogan, Just Do It!

Better Late May Be Never

The story of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16:19-31 is in keeping with many of our recent discussions and typical of Luke’s Gospels in which we encounter a number of assumptions and reversals. The first reversal is that the beggar is given a name and the rich man is not.
When we encounter the poor or homeless we are moved to pity and a desire to help. Yet, too often this desire or inclination stops with the intention. It’s not that we don’t care; we really do, but something happens to cause us to “look the other way,” just long enough for us to put the “urge” out of our minds and for us to forget it. Let’s face it, getting physically involved with those who are “different” from us can make us a little uncomfortable. Perhaps the operative word here is “different.”

So it is with the rich man in this parable. Both characters die and Lazarus is with Abraham in paradise and the rich man is in hell. While the story does not have a judgment scene, we assume that the rich man is not condemned because of his wealth but because he was “indifferent” to the plight of Lazarus. He did nothing to relieve his suffering in this life. Lazarus was not in the rich man’s line of sight because he was different …and the rich man was indifferent.

Yet doesn’t the rich man reveal a certain compassion and “piety” when he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to “warn” his brothers? Doesn’t this “better late than never piety” count for anything? No, it really doesn’t…the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Jesus is telling us that piety and talk are cheap grace; it’s what we do with our wealth, i.e., our time, our abilities and our resources that count. While the rich man could have helped Lazarus before, he did not, and Lazarus cannot do anything to help the rich man now.

This Gospel stresses the urgency for us to act in this lifetime and suggests that the righteous and the “wicked” may see each other after death…but if they are attentive to the presence of the Kingdom of God, they may see both each other while on this earth.

Crime and Punishment

I think Alfred Hitchcock must have liked Luke. Likewise, I’m sure Luke would have been a big fan of Hitchcock’s films, many of which had surprised endings in which the expected ending was somehow turned upside down, leaving us to wonder what just happened. And so it is with Luke 16:1-13. We’re convinced that the dishonest manager is finished, but is he? 

Most of us have had jobs that conformed to specific job descriptions that “rolled-up” to specific performance standards to which the employee was held accountable accountable. (With the advent of Human Resources, employee evaluations became more objectively measured and less given to whim and subjectivity.)  If our performance exceeded expectations, we were rewarded accordingly; likewise, if our performance fell short of expectations, we might have been subjected to either remediation, probation or dismissal. Now the “dishonest manager,” as Jesus has already named him, is an “employee at will” and could be fired without so much as an opportunity to speak, much less redeem himself. The rich man was completely in his right to fire him for squandering his property. 

So, here’s Luke’s surprise ending: instead of being punished and used as a model for bad behavior, the unjust manager was given credit for being shrewd because by ingratiating himself to his employer’s debtors and discounting what was owed, without any authorization, his employer looked upon him favorably or at least in a new light. Instead of being thrown in jail, he was given credit for using his resources to provide for his future as he was forced to leave his job. 

I don’t think we would regard the manager as a model citizen but he was able to secure his future by leveraging new friendships of those who were at one time in his debt. The dishonest manager was not respectable because he defied the law. Couldn’t the same be said of Jesus? He broke all the laws and was executed.  

Jesus refused to yield to the love of power and lived the power of love by defying the hypocrisy of those who sat in judgment. He reached out with compassion to the “crooks” and “sinners” in us all, who might otherwise never feel worthy of meeting the expectations of a “harsh judge.” Laws can be said to be "black and white," but the "spirit of the law" as it was originally intended is a much different "shade."  

Are there those we dismiss or overlook as if they have no value? How about those whose lifestyle is different from ours…do we dismiss them as having nothing worth contributing? Are they either too young, too old, too impaired to add any value to our lives and to our community? Looking for the good in people is impossible if we treat them as having no redemptive value.   

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” (Saint Theresa of Calcutta)

 

Lost and Found

 

(Note: I originally wrote this blog in 2013 and again in 2016. Each time, including this 2022 rendition, I revised it to reflect how the event currently affects me. Over time the emotions associated with being lost and found have never diminished.)  

We all know what it’s like to lose something or someone. Perhaps we can remember a time when we felt lost ourselves. We all know those associated feelings that border on fear, if not terror.  Luke 15:1-32 helps us to remember how we felt when we experienced loss and the joy we felt when we were “reunited” or “found.” One of my most memorable experiences with feeling lost goes back to my early childhood and today, almost 80 years later,  it is indelibly ingrained in my memory.

I was not more than five years old and my mother, sister and I were at a crowded beach in Coney Island. I must have gotten a little bored sitting on the blanket alone with my mother and sleeping baby sister. So I began pestering my mother about wanting to get some water for my pail to bring back to the blanket where we were sitting and make some mud pies. Mom resisted my going to the shore alone despite it being less than 50 yards away but she did not want to leave my sister sleeping unattended. I finally convinced her that I could not possibly get lost as the water was so close and I would always be aware of where mom was sitting. She yielded and so I made my way with my metal pail and shovel in tow, carefully drawing a  Hansel and Gretel-like “directional” line in the sand with my foot.

I played at the surfside for a bit, filled my pail and turned to make my way back to the blanket. Of course, the line was obscured and I began to panic because despite not being able to find the line in the sand, fear blocked my ability to remain calm and scan the heads and faces and see my mother waving (as I learned later.) And so I began to cry. A woman standing nearby immediately came to my aid, and assured me that we would find my mother. Although it must have seemed an eternity in a matter of seconds my mother  gathered me up in her arms and held me close, assuring me that I was not lost and that I was always in her sight. Perhaps the reason I can still remember this event so vividly  even as I write today, is because of how palpable the safety of my mother’s arms felt.

I relate this childhood experience with the stories Jesus uses in our gospel to describe what it means to lose and to find and to be lost and be found. I wonder what is the more memorable of the two emotions, the fear of being lost or the joy of being found. In both instances Luke depicts the joy in finding what was lost and being found. There was no recrimination just joy.

Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.