Scriptures: Jeremiah
31:27-34, Psalm 121
2 Timothy 3:14-4:5, Luke
18:1-8
In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus tells a story with a
theme that has inspired any number of movies – the little guy taking on the
corrupt system. Think of such divergent
movies as Mr Smith Goes to Washington, or Gandhi, or Norma Rae, which dealt with
labor issues, or Erin Brockovich, which dealt with environmental themes. Or
moving to real life, we might think of student Greta Thunberg getting the
attention of so many around the world about climate change and our need to move
away from fossil fuels and more generally to find sustainable ways of living. Agree with her or not, if you could imagine
one of our middle school or high school students here in Bridesburg doing or
saying something that went viral and commanded the attention of millions, I think
we’d call it a considerable accomplishment.
In Jesus’ time as in our own, there’s just something in us that wants to
see the little guy win for a change.
In Jesus’ parable, it’s a powerless woman – a widow – who is
taking on a corrupt system, as personified by an unjust judge. Remember
that in Jesus’ society, widows were among the most vulnerable members of
society. By contrast, we’re told this
judge is not only corrupt, but shameless – he didn’t care one bit about what
people thought of him, and he surely wasn’t cowering before God either. Likely he was the sort of coin-operated judge
that would give the wealthy and well-connected the best justice money could
buy, and would give to those unable to pay….nothing, nada. A widow came to him seeking justice against
her opponent, and he told her to hit the bricks, as he had so many before
her. But if he thought he was rid of
her, he was sorely mistaken. She came to
him again. And again. And again. And the parable gives us a glimpse into the
judge’s mind as he says to himself, “I care nothing for God or people, but this
widow just won’t go away, so I’ll give her what she wants so she doesn’t wear
me out.” The Greek behind the words
translated “wear me out” actually mean “give me a black eye”. So the widow’s persistence is like a fist to
the eye for this judge….painful, and also hard to explain when the judge goes
around with a shiner. The phrase may
have meant that the widow would give the judge a bad reputation. And
finally the judge gave the woman what she wanted, just so he wouldn’t have to
look at her again.
Note how Jesus ends the parable. He’s not saying that God is like the unjust
judge. Rather, he’s saying that if a
widow’s persistent nagging can move even a cranky, lazy, corrupt judge who just
wanted her to go away, how much can our prayers move God who is eager to be in
relationship with us. And relationship
is the key. In Jesus’ parable, the woman
approached the judge only because he was the person who could give her what she
wanted. Otherwise, she wanted nothing to
do with him, and he surely wanted nothing to do with her – he just wanted her
to go away and leave him get back to his corruption. By contrast, God wants to be in relationship
with us, and we are created to be in relationship with God, even if we run away
from that relationship sometimes.
Luke writes that Jesus told this parable to remind his
listeners “of their need to pray always and not lose heart.” But what does it mean to “pray always”? Am I supposed to spend my whole life on my
knees? We have families to care for,
paychecks to earn.
But what does it mean to pray? Our prayers only made by folding our hands
and bowing our heads? Can our actions
also be a form of prayer? Beyond
offering specific prayers, I believe the prayer of which Jesus speaks is an
attitude of openness to connection with God, an attitude of openness to see
God’s actions in the events of our day. If offered to God, our family time, our paid
employment, are also prayers. Our
letters to those in power, our petitions, our marches, can be offered to God as
prayers for a better world.
As we read Jesus’ parables, including this parable, it is
sometimes helpful to ask, “Where am I in the story?” And this parable has only two characters, or
maybe three: the poor widow, the unjust
judge, and in the background, the God to whom Jesus teaches us to pray – and
clearly we’re not God, so that narrows the question down to the widow or the
judge. We want to think of ourselves as
being like the poor widow as we come here every week to pray – for healing of
bodies, of situations, of relationships, of our world. And here at Emanuel, we know about persistent
prayer – our prayers for healing are often not just one-off prayers, but we
pray for individuals week after week, and we’ve seen some amazing healings in
our midst.
But I think that we can also be like the unjust judge, in
that we can be dismissive when others seek justice for themselves or
others. A small personal example – I
remember a number of years ago I was at a meeting, and someone raised the topic
of student debt. It was a young
student, maybe a student at Temple, and she had this high-pitched, squealing
voice, like fingernails on a chalkboard.
And my initial reaction – not spoken, but in my mind - was not
particularly sympathetic – “Hey, kiddo, you have any idea how lucky you are to
be in college at all? You have any idea
how many dishes I washed and what kind of crappy summer jobs I worked in order
to pay for tuition at Penn State? Suck it
up, buttercup! Stop whining!” But over time – and especially when I went
back to school to attend seminary - I came to learn how much the price of
college tuitions had increased, far beyond the rate at which the minimum wage
had increased – at many universities, washing every dish in the entire world ten
times over wouldn’t bring in enough money to cover a semester’s tuition - and how student debt was for many like a pair
of handcuffs limiting peoples’ lives for decades after graduation. Again,
just a small personal example – but when we have those moments in which we’re
tempted to ignore or ridicule some group’s struggle for justice – a petition, a
letter-writing campaign, a march or rally, I’d ask us to take just a moment and
ask if we’re not being like the unjust judge – not that any one of us has the
power to decide an issue, but we all have choices as to how to use our time and
energy, to focus on ourselves or to help others.
Perhaps the more difficult part of Jesus’ reminder is to
“not lose heart”. Luke’s gospel is thought to have been one of
the later gospels to be written, and is thought to date to a generation or two
after Jesus’ earthly ministry. Jesus had
not returned, and so the believers, who thought Jesus would return at any time,
had to come to terms with the reality that both they and the world were going
to be around a while. What they thought
was going to be a sprint to the promised land was turning into a marathon. And they had questions and doubts – had
everything they believed been a lie? How
could they move forward? How could they
maintain hope? And in this parable,
Jesus’ answer is persistent prayer. But he ends this section with that haunting
question, “When the Son of Man returns, will he find faith on earth?”
It's hard sometimes not to lose heart. All of us here are living with one or another
kind of challenge – personal health crises, sick family members, family
conflict, unstable living situations, addictions in loved ones, mental health
challenges – that just go on, and on, unrelentingly. Or we may be dealing with legal or political
situations that are stacked against us. Like
the widow, we want change. It’s tempting
to throw up our hands. But Jesus calls
on us to keep praying – with folded hands and bowed heads to be sure, but also
with our words and our actions – for God to intervene. And sometimes, the answer to our prayers may
come from our neighbors, or even from ourselves. We want God or some person in power to step
in and fix things, but persistent prayer may change us enough to see that
perhaps we’re the ones we’ve been waiting for.
“When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on
earth?” May Jesus find faith among us,
and may we be faithful as we pray to God each day with our bowed heads and
folded hands, with our words, with our arms and our legs, with our lives. Amen.
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