The Adventurous Lectionary – The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost – September 18, 2022
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1, Psalm 79:1-9, 1 Timothy 2:1-7; Luke 16:1-13
If you’re looking for a good time from the pulpit, you may want to stay home and go for a hike or watch football this Sunday or opt out of preaching. At first glance, there may be a lot of adventure but there is not a lot of joy in this Sunday’s lectionary readings. The scriptures seem appropriate for our current national situation, in which in the United States hate crimes and mass shootings have become the norm, incivility, the over-turning of democracy, and political prevarication has been normalized, and a former president has eclipsed Jesus in some Christian quarters denier, and what once was considered treasonous is seen as no more serious than an overdue library book. Though the signs of the times are obvious, climate denial and gun lust have replaced “consider the lilies” and the Sermon on the Mount as central to many Christians’ faith. And we note with Jeremiah, “the harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved!”
Responding to a nation hellbent on self-destruction, Jeremiah plays the role of public griever and critic. He laments the state of the nation and wonders out loud if restoration is even possible. “Is there a balm in Gilead? Can anyone heal the nation? Has the nation gone beyond the point of no return?” These are hard words to hear, but even more difficult to speak. In a time in which popular preachers identify themselves with the prosperity gospel and the megachurch movement, deny climate change, and overlook children traumatized by gun violence, what hope does a pastor or church have if it claims the rightful spiritual vocation of lamentation? We don’t want to be negative thinkers, but honesty compels us not to preach false hope. We don’t know if things will turn out right, given the growth in violent expressions, often tied to the church, and the desire to create a Christian nation, built on injustice and coercion.
Jeremiah sees how dire things are and what the costs may be. The doors of perception are opened and he not only sees infinity, as Aldous Huxley asserts, but tragedy, the tragedy arising from the nation’s waywardness. How do we lament without being accused of “playing politics?” But, then again, Jeremiah is playing politics: his lament is a call to confession and a transformation of national priorities. His politics reflect the bias of God toward justice and fidelity.
Yes, we need to be comforted in life’s most difficult times. We need a haven of rest, and the church needs to be a place of comfort as well as challenge. But, we also need to look starkly at our situation – severe weather caused by global climate change, mass shootings on a regular basis, racism at the highest levels of politics, growing gap between rich and poor, fear of immigrants and refugees, and this is just the drop of the bucket. How can we appropriately mourn our national situation? How can we recognize that mourning emerges from our recognition of how we have defaced God’s beautiful planet and the image of God in our fellow humans? Mourning and lamentation emerge precisely because we can imagine an alternative reality – God’s Shalom – to human greed and destruction.
Psalm 79 is a desperate plea for help. How long, O God, will you punish us? How long will you turn away from our cries for help? The faithful of Jerusalem lament: other nations taunt us and appear to go Scot free despite their own iniquity. Our parents have turned away from you – and so have we, the Jerusalem elite admit – but is there any mercy, and deliverance for us, who seek to follow God? This is the plea of a fallen nation not caught in the political intrigues of its neighbors. This passage is no justification for “whining” or lamenting the “war on Christendom” or “the loss of Christianity’s favored status.” There is still much Christian privilege in North America. Such protests are gratuitous and miss the point, especially when they are superficial reactions to giving equal access to persons of other faiths and ways of life or women’s reproductive rights. Our faux martyrdom deadens us to the plight of those who have good reason to feel good forsaken and punished by an angry and indifferent deity. There are consequences to our infidelity – even though we are often oblivious to the nature of this infidelity or project it on others, the identified “sinners” in our midst. Psalm 79 reminds us of the precariousness of life and the reality that we may suffer the consequences of our nation’s greed, consumerism, nationalism, and militarism. In fact, we are seeing it in the planet’s climate “war” on reckless humankind.
The passage from I Timothy invites us to pray for everyone, including our political leaders. Our blessing the world must be plenary, especially when we find ourselves ranged against the policies of our leaders. I must admit that I must work hard to pray for Donald Trump and grateful he no longer is president, though in his delusion he thinks otherwise. Yet, despite his destructive political positions and lack of character, I need to lift him up in prayer just as I must lift up Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, and King Charles III in prayer. We must that our leaders and those who seek to lead might have wisdom and compassion and follow the “better angels.” Our well-being and the well-being of the planet depend on the spiritual conversion of those who lead us.
The passage from Luke 16 is challenging in many ways in its apparent affirmation of a dishonest businessperson who has learned the art of the deal. What are we to say about the character of the dishonest manager? Was he looking out for his best interests or was he a bit of a “Robin Hood,” trying to support those facing economic burdens, probably cheated by his boss? While we cannot commend this behavior – and neither does Jesus – we can appreciate Jesus’ recognition that we need to be wise in the use of our personal and congregational resources. We should be especially wise because of the potential pitfalls in our desire for economic well-being and political power. We can put economic security ahead of our relationship with God, the well-being of our neighbors, and the survival of the planet. Money cannot be the center of our lives. It cannot get in the way of our obligation to God, our self-care and care for friends and family, and our stewardship of the earth. Our use of our largesse must be subservient to our commitment to God and determined by our commitment to God. Our faith must shape our economic and vocational values, not the other way around. In the spirit of Charles Sheldon’s In His Steps, we need to ask regularly: “Is this how Jesus would behave in terms of personal and corporate economics? Do my buying patterns reflect a care for my neighbor, the vulnerable, and the planet? Do I place consumerism, security, and comfort ahead of generosity and care for the needs of vulnerable persons?” Luke 16 invites us to an examination of conscience on the personal and political levels and challenges us to see our political decisions in light of our spiritual commitments. We need to be smart and also compassionate, shrewd and also generous, looking beyond our self-interest to the common good.
Yet, in the maelstrom of politics, and danger to democracy, we must use our power wisely and with courage. We cannot assume democracy will triumph and while we must critique our own positions, recognizing the ambiguity of even our best intentions, we must confront growing anti-Semitism, racism, climate denial, anti-democracy, and intentional prevarication, not only in the ballot box but in the church. We must speak the truth in love, confessing our own sins and the sins of progressive and mainstream faith communities, while challenging idolatry among those who claim the one true Christian faith, tinged with nationalism, idolatry, and coercion.
We have much to lament and much for which to be grateful. In fact, lamentation and gratitude go together. Our grief is the result of recognizing our wayward and reckless use of the earth’s bounty and our forgetfulness of our neighbors’ needs. Repentance is possible, but it comes as a result of seeing our largess from God’s perspective and not our self-interest. It comes from taking a new path, one of justice, earth care, and hospitality.
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Bruce Epperly is a pastor, professor, and author of over sixty books: THE ELEPHANT IS RUNNING: PROCESS AND OPEN AND RELATIONAL THEOLOGIES AND RELIGIOUS PLURALISM; GOD ONLINE: A MYSTIC’S GUIDE TO THE INTERNET; MYSTICS IN ACTION: TWELVE SAINTS FOR TODAY; PROPHETIC HEALING: HOWARD THURMAN’S VISION OF CONTEMPLATIVE ACTIVISM; and PROCESS THEOLOGY: EMBRACING ADVENTURE WITH GOD. His most recent book is RESTLESS SPIRIT: THE HOLY SPIRIT FROM A PROCESS PERSPECTIVE.
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