Keep looking up
Commentary
Object:
In my childhood home, there was a wall plaque, unadorned except for three words: "Keep
Looking Up." For us young ones it was a comic command, and we would stumble about
with our eyes glued to the ceiling. But for those who have known any kind of adult
anguish, there is no other hope or help.
Sir James Simpson, the Scottish physician who discovered the anesthetic properties of chloroform, freed his world from much pain. But his own heart was anguished by the death of a little daughter. When she was buried in a lonely Edinburgh cemetery, Simpson had a single word carved on the headstone: Nevertheless. In that small act of devotion he placed his grief in the hands of God. It was his affirmation that he would "keep looking up."
Bertrand Russell once said, "The only adequate way to endure large stresses is to find large consolation." This is the theme for today. Joel helps his community see through the stark tragedy of a locust plague to find divine consolation and anticipation. Paul faces the executioner's blade with confidence of a coronation to come. And the despised tax collector of Jesus' parable reaches for heaven from down on his knees. "Keep looking up!"
Joel 2:23-32
When did Joel live and command attention as the mouthpiece of God? For a prophecy that plays so prominently in biblical theology, we simply don't know. Joel references no king, as do most of the other prophets, causing some to place his dates early in Israel's history (either in the eleventh century, prior to the development of the monarchy, or perhaps in the ninth century at a time when the king was ineffective because of age or other political circumstances) and others to inject him into the post-exilic community (third century) that was trying to find its way after the years of displacement turmoil. Another theory makes Joel a contemporary of Jeremiah, mainly because the first half of his Joel's prophecy is stridently apocalyptic with its warnings of impending judgment by way of enemy invaders, a scene that connects well with the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BC.
Unfortunately for the historians among us, the only actual hook on which we can begin to hang a date for this short message is an unusually severe plague of locusts that prompted visions of a looming divine holocaust meted out by some horrible massacring army. But the swarming invasion could have happened during any decade of life in the Middle East, so we are left with a treasury of dating dust. Recent interpreters tend to peg Joel later rather than earlier, primarily because of the words and stylistics of the Hebrew language he uses.
None of this detracts from his powerful message. For one thing, perhaps as much as any and certainly more than most among the prophets, Joel clarifies the meaning of the term "the day of the Lord." This catchphrase and its variations ("that day," "the day of judgment," "the day of Yahweh's visitation," and so on) collectively begin to hold three significant themes as it is rehearsed among the prophets. First, because of the heightened state of wickedness within the covenant community and also among the nations that surround it, Yahweh will have to break decisively into human history as before when battling Egypt for possession of Israel. This time, Yahweh will judge the nations and destroy the rampant evil that has messed up every culture, including that within the societies of Israel and Judah. Second, although the trauma of this visitation will be severe and painful, Yahweh will spare a remnant of the covenant community as a witness to divine grace and as the starter piece in a global renewal effort. This, thirdly, is the culmination of the day of the Lord: the blossoming of the eternal messianic kingdom in which the divine will holds sway again, and life becomes what God intended all along that it should be. All three of these themes -- pervasive divine judgment, restoration of a remnant, and ushering in of the marvelous messianic age -- are clearly articulated by Joel.
Another brilliant aspect of Joel's timeless message is the manner in which he connects it to current affairs. As Jesus noted when challenged one day by a tragedy in Palestine (Luke 13:1-5), every awful news report is an occasion for spiritual reflection. This Joel does well. He leverages the powerful plague that is devastating the countryside and rides it to new heights of meaning. Although this disaster affects everyone in significant ways, all will soon be traumatized more terribly by a divine judgment that will make this horrible scene seem pastorally idyllic. Joel is a preacher with contemporary significance in his weekly sermon.
But mostly there is the powerful message itself. Joel paints the word of God with lively hues and stark contrasts that call attention to themselves. God will not merely end the nasty locust plight; God will send "autumn rains in righteousness" and "vats will overflow with new wine and oil." God will not only flip a page on the calendar, but instead "will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten," so that "you will have plenty to eat, until you are full," and "you will praise the name of the Lord your God."
Then, if that is not yet enough, Joel sees signs in the heavens, portents among the planets, and the complete refabrication of the warp and woof of the universe. The specific references of verses 28-32 can never be pinned to anything in our realm of experiences, and yet they are accessible at all times and in all circumstances, as Peter would show on Pentecost Sunday when the power of the divine Spirit overwhelmed the crowd in Jerusalem (Acts 2).
How should we preach Joel's message? First, we need to contextualize it by setting it against any locust plagues or other disasters that scream from the headlines of our current newspapers. The message from Yahweh that Joel brings is always lodged in the leading stories that trouble our times. These serve as the powerful mirrors on which the invading judgment of God is momentarily reflected, and we need to make the most of the times because the days are evil.
Second, we need to ride all three dimensions of Joel's understanding of the code term, "the day of the Lord." It is a moment of cataclysmic judgment on our lives and our societies, to be sure, but it is also an episode of gracious care as God notices and succors the lost and the last and the least, the helpless and the homeless, the worn and the wearied. This is a message that reaches into the kitchens of broken homes and puts family members at odds with each other around the same table again for dinner. This is a message that searches the battlefield conflagrations in the wee hours of the morning and binds the wounds of the fallen and rescues the children from collapsing debris. This is a message that probes the psyche of the troubled and marginalized and helps them find healing.
Third, we have to paint this message in bold colors of a present and coming kingdom of God that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. Joel uses a few wonderful words to cast a very big vision. We ought to follow suit and give our people a taste of heaven that makes them hunger and thirst after righteousness.
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Paul was under arrest again. It had happened many times before (see 2 Corinthians 4), but this time was different. Nero was emperor in Rome, and he had chosen to target the Christian community for the ills of his realm. The church in Rome had felt the scourge of his wrath in a powerful way, becoming the scapegoat for Nero's civic restoration plan begun by an arsonist conflagration. Several years before, the apostle Peter, known widely as the key church leader in the city, had been crucified upside down. Now the empire's prime mover had netted Christianity's dominant evangelist, and his fate was sealed. Paul would die soon, beheaded outside of the capital city in the compassionate execution method reserved for citizens of the empire. Shortly before, in a final gesture of tenderness and testimony, Paul wrote this letter to his protégé installed as senior pastor in the church of Ephesus. Paul was about to die, and these would be his final words of encouragement and request.
Even though these verses rehearse painful difficulties Paul has experienced along the way, his closing message is one of powerful trust in the providence of God. This is the echo of a lifetime of faith. Such testimonies are built on the few but near-miraculous signposts of grace that keep us hanging on to religious commitments.
One of the most amazing stories to come out of World War II is told by a chaplain with the US Air Force. A bombing mission in the South Pacific turned into a grueling night of terror for one B-52 crew. The fuel tanks began leaking when hit by enemy fire, and the plane barely managed an emergency landing on the beach of a small island. In the darkness their location was hidden from the Japanese soldiers who held the island, but dawn would make them prisoners of war.
"Chaplain," said the flight leader, "you've been telling us for months about the power of prayer. We're out of fuel! We're surrounded by the enemy! If you've ever prayed, pray now!"
While the rest of the crew patched the fuel tanks, the chaplain knelt in the sands to pray. Even when the others knocked off for a couple hours' rest, the chaplain kept to his post. About 2 a.m., a sentry heard something scrape against the sand at the water's edge. A cautious investigation revealed a large metal floating object -- a barge -- piled high with barrels. Each one contained gasoline -- high-octane gasoline -- airplane fuel. In a matter of minutes, the crew was roused, the tanks filled, and they were in the air again, bound for home!
But where had the fuel come from? Later investigations told the story. A supply ship captain, surrounded by enemy submarines 600 miles and several weeks away, had set his cargo of aircraft fuel afloat in hopes of saving lives. It landed fifty feet away from the bomber crew exactly when they needed it. What an answer to prayer!
"As luck would have it, providence was on my side!" wrote Samuel Butler. A bit more reverent is Paul's statement: "The Lord stood at my side and gave me strength." But what does that mean? Is it a good luck charm? Will it get you out of any scrape, even those of your own foolish doing? Hardly. We know of too many tragedies and cruelties and unrequited injustices even in the Christian community to believe that. A young Christian girl whose sister was sick and whose family was troubled by a long list of difficulties, once wrote to me: "I am angry with God right now ... Sometimes I even think our family is cursed. When something goes wrong I think, 'Oh no! Another curse!' "
Nor can Paul's trust in God be mere fatalism. The message of the Bible is not compatible with the idea that evil forces are either God's delight or his intent. No one can thank God for providential leading when a drunk driver crushes the body of a child. No one can praise God for providential direction when an airplane crashes or a mine collapses. These are not the things of which providence is made.
Thus it is difficult to read the times we live in or to easily identify the exact way God is moving with power or shaping destinies. The dangers are all too evident when we read the statement signed by 600 German pastors and fourteen theology professors in 1934: "We are thankful to God that He, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot." Such a confession seems demonic now!
In a sense, Paul's testimony is more a confession than a theological treatise. I believe God exists. I know that God can control the destinies of peoples and nations. I am confident that God has a direction, a purpose for this world, and I want to be a part of that leading. Even when things go "wrong" (from my own point of view) -- even when tragedy strikes -- even when no miracles happen -- "The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom." That's the confession of faith! That's the confidence of trust!
A young schoolteacher named Ray Palmer thought about that one night in 1830. He sat at his desk in the darkness and wrote a little poem to God. It was a prayer of trust, a statement of faith. One day he met Dr. Lowell Mason, a brilliant musician. Looking for verses to set to hymn tunes, Dr. Mason scanned Ray's poetry. It was all quite good but one poem moved him to tears. It was the nighttime prayer. With a melody of simple majesty, Mason published the hymn that spoke with the convictions of Paul. It still grabs hearts. It still brings tears. Its opening line goes like this: My faith looks up to thee!
Luke 18:9-14
A rather distinguished matron of high society felt the need to commission a lavish portrait of herself. But her demands and desires drove her from one artist to the next. None could do it right! Finally she stormed into the studio of still another candidate. As they settled on a fee, she told of her disappointment with others of his profession. "Young man!" she said, "I want you to do me justice!"
By now, the artist was having second thoughts. He looked her up and down and finally let it slip: "Madam," he said, "it's not justice you need. It's mercy!"
This may well help us think through Jesus' marvelous parable in a fresh way. Who do we think we are? What do we think we need? Why does Jesus take a bad man and make him a model for our prayers?
"Mercy is a beggar's refuge," said George Bernard Shaw, "a man must pay his debts!" That's how we feel when someone hurts us. Can you imagine a rape victim suffering a lifetime of psychological scars while her attacker gets a mild reprimand? Or a family carrying on with the knowledge that the drunk driver who senselessly slaughtered their son didn't even have his license suspended? "It isn't fair!" we shout. A cry for mercy from such trash is a beggar's refuge. We spit on it.
When Austrian Prince Schwarzenberg put down the Hungarian rebellion of 1849, some counselors advised mercy for the captives. "Yes, indeed," he replied, "a good idea; but first we will have a little hanging!" Often our hearts nod in assent.
Even our mercy can be laced with spite. When the first Elizabeth finally came to England's throne after the political and religious wrangling of the sixteenth century, a knight who had formerly despised her came seeking pardon. He threw himself at her feet begging mercy. With a flick of her hand she dismissed him, saying, "Do you not know that we are descended of the lion, whose nature is not to prey upon the mouse or any other such small vermin?"
A royal put-down indeed! But husbands do it to wives, and vice versa; neighbors condescendingly do it to each other; church members justify their cases and offer mean- spirited "forgiveness." "Community" becomes a shining ideal that we can't buy with our smoldering bitterness.
In Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, the main character borrows a great sum of money from Shylock. Due to adverse circumstances, he is unable to pay it back. Shylock demands justice, but seethes with vengeance. And, in a marvelous speech, Portia slices to the heart of human need:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven....
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.
-- Act IV, Scene 1
That's the kind of mercy the tax collector mutters about in Jesus' story. The great and good religious leaders stand to strut and pose, and behind him all this man feels is the blazing wrath of God. He knows he deserves divine anger. He knows he's not caught in an unfair tragedy of blind circumstances but wrapped up in the fair balances of justice.
Will he stand like a man and pay his debts? No, for in this courtroom there is no limit to the punishment and no door marked "Exit." All that's left is Love's second name: Mercy! And in the scent of that whisper, life begins again.
Application
Both the epistle and gospel lessons are intensely personal. They could be used to call out experiential reflections on how each person present came to faith and grew in grace. It might even be appropriate, using the 2 Timothy passage, to get people to think about what their obituaries might say and why. Did others catch from them that they indeed spent a life "Looking Up"?
Alternative Application
Joel 2:23-32; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14. There are many great hymns of faith connected to the passages in today's lectionary readings. These could shape segments of a message in which the testimonies of the past might inspire the singing of powerful songs that would renew the personal reflections of those gathered. They deepen their understanding of the journey of faith they are traveling in pilgrim company.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 65
Every morning when sleep leaves and waking comes there is cause for praising God. Caught up, as we are, in the currents and eddies of our lives, this is easy to forget. This wonderful psalm is a reminder. God's bounty and abundance spill into our lives like waters over a causeway. God's delight in creation explodes in a million different colors. In every moment there is reason to give God praise.
Once, when visiting a church out of town, I heard the pastor call for the people to adopt an "attitude of praise." What a wonderful concept this man offered his congregation. Usually when we speak of attitude it has a bad connotation. "That woman has a real attitude." But what if our attitude was one of continual praise of God? As my fingers wander over my keyboard in the process of writing this, I marvel at how they work. Praise God! I glance across the room and see my family, reading and studying along side me. Praise God! As a pastor I have the high privilege of walking with people down the corridors of their lives. It is an unbelievable gift. Praise God!
What would be the litany of praise that would articulate your life? What, aside from the obvious gifts of creation around us, would you list as you adopt your attitude of praise? The joyful chatter of Christian community? The precious gift of useful work? A chance to walk on the beach?
How different the world might be if praise became the medium with which we painted our lives. Rather than ambition or pride, turn to praise. Instead of greed or anger, lean into praise. In place of casting cynical glances from the sidelines, leap into a life of unabashed praise of God almighty.
Imagine with me the early Christian community as described in Acts. The people of God shared everything in common and lived continually praising God. No want, no need, no shame or sorrow! Everything given over to God's love as an act of praise for what God has done for us.
Yes, yes, some will say it's not realistic. Others will raise an eyebrow and bid us come to live in the real world. Still a few more will recommend therapy, but as for me and my house, we will praise the Lord!
Sir James Simpson, the Scottish physician who discovered the anesthetic properties of chloroform, freed his world from much pain. But his own heart was anguished by the death of a little daughter. When she was buried in a lonely Edinburgh cemetery, Simpson had a single word carved on the headstone: Nevertheless. In that small act of devotion he placed his grief in the hands of God. It was his affirmation that he would "keep looking up."
Bertrand Russell once said, "The only adequate way to endure large stresses is to find large consolation." This is the theme for today. Joel helps his community see through the stark tragedy of a locust plague to find divine consolation and anticipation. Paul faces the executioner's blade with confidence of a coronation to come. And the despised tax collector of Jesus' parable reaches for heaven from down on his knees. "Keep looking up!"
Joel 2:23-32
When did Joel live and command attention as the mouthpiece of God? For a prophecy that plays so prominently in biblical theology, we simply don't know. Joel references no king, as do most of the other prophets, causing some to place his dates early in Israel's history (either in the eleventh century, prior to the development of the monarchy, or perhaps in the ninth century at a time when the king was ineffective because of age or other political circumstances) and others to inject him into the post-exilic community (third century) that was trying to find its way after the years of displacement turmoil. Another theory makes Joel a contemporary of Jeremiah, mainly because the first half of his Joel's prophecy is stridently apocalyptic with its warnings of impending judgment by way of enemy invaders, a scene that connects well with the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BC.
Unfortunately for the historians among us, the only actual hook on which we can begin to hang a date for this short message is an unusually severe plague of locusts that prompted visions of a looming divine holocaust meted out by some horrible massacring army. But the swarming invasion could have happened during any decade of life in the Middle East, so we are left with a treasury of dating dust. Recent interpreters tend to peg Joel later rather than earlier, primarily because of the words and stylistics of the Hebrew language he uses.
None of this detracts from his powerful message. For one thing, perhaps as much as any and certainly more than most among the prophets, Joel clarifies the meaning of the term "the day of the Lord." This catchphrase and its variations ("that day," "the day of judgment," "the day of Yahweh's visitation," and so on) collectively begin to hold three significant themes as it is rehearsed among the prophets. First, because of the heightened state of wickedness within the covenant community and also among the nations that surround it, Yahweh will have to break decisively into human history as before when battling Egypt for possession of Israel. This time, Yahweh will judge the nations and destroy the rampant evil that has messed up every culture, including that within the societies of Israel and Judah. Second, although the trauma of this visitation will be severe and painful, Yahweh will spare a remnant of the covenant community as a witness to divine grace and as the starter piece in a global renewal effort. This, thirdly, is the culmination of the day of the Lord: the blossoming of the eternal messianic kingdom in which the divine will holds sway again, and life becomes what God intended all along that it should be. All three of these themes -- pervasive divine judgment, restoration of a remnant, and ushering in of the marvelous messianic age -- are clearly articulated by Joel.
Another brilliant aspect of Joel's timeless message is the manner in which he connects it to current affairs. As Jesus noted when challenged one day by a tragedy in Palestine (Luke 13:1-5), every awful news report is an occasion for spiritual reflection. This Joel does well. He leverages the powerful plague that is devastating the countryside and rides it to new heights of meaning. Although this disaster affects everyone in significant ways, all will soon be traumatized more terribly by a divine judgment that will make this horrible scene seem pastorally idyllic. Joel is a preacher with contemporary significance in his weekly sermon.
But mostly there is the powerful message itself. Joel paints the word of God with lively hues and stark contrasts that call attention to themselves. God will not merely end the nasty locust plight; God will send "autumn rains in righteousness" and "vats will overflow with new wine and oil." God will not only flip a page on the calendar, but instead "will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten," so that "you will have plenty to eat, until you are full," and "you will praise the name of the Lord your God."
Then, if that is not yet enough, Joel sees signs in the heavens, portents among the planets, and the complete refabrication of the warp and woof of the universe. The specific references of verses 28-32 can never be pinned to anything in our realm of experiences, and yet they are accessible at all times and in all circumstances, as Peter would show on Pentecost Sunday when the power of the divine Spirit overwhelmed the crowd in Jerusalem (Acts 2).
How should we preach Joel's message? First, we need to contextualize it by setting it against any locust plagues or other disasters that scream from the headlines of our current newspapers. The message from Yahweh that Joel brings is always lodged in the leading stories that trouble our times. These serve as the powerful mirrors on which the invading judgment of God is momentarily reflected, and we need to make the most of the times because the days are evil.
Second, we need to ride all three dimensions of Joel's understanding of the code term, "the day of the Lord." It is a moment of cataclysmic judgment on our lives and our societies, to be sure, but it is also an episode of gracious care as God notices and succors the lost and the last and the least, the helpless and the homeless, the worn and the wearied. This is a message that reaches into the kitchens of broken homes and puts family members at odds with each other around the same table again for dinner. This is a message that searches the battlefield conflagrations in the wee hours of the morning and binds the wounds of the fallen and rescues the children from collapsing debris. This is a message that probes the psyche of the troubled and marginalized and helps them find healing.
Third, we have to paint this message in bold colors of a present and coming kingdom of God that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. Joel uses a few wonderful words to cast a very big vision. We ought to follow suit and give our people a taste of heaven that makes them hunger and thirst after righteousness.
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Paul was under arrest again. It had happened many times before (see 2 Corinthians 4), but this time was different. Nero was emperor in Rome, and he had chosen to target the Christian community for the ills of his realm. The church in Rome had felt the scourge of his wrath in a powerful way, becoming the scapegoat for Nero's civic restoration plan begun by an arsonist conflagration. Several years before, the apostle Peter, known widely as the key church leader in the city, had been crucified upside down. Now the empire's prime mover had netted Christianity's dominant evangelist, and his fate was sealed. Paul would die soon, beheaded outside of the capital city in the compassionate execution method reserved for citizens of the empire. Shortly before, in a final gesture of tenderness and testimony, Paul wrote this letter to his protégé installed as senior pastor in the church of Ephesus. Paul was about to die, and these would be his final words of encouragement and request.
Even though these verses rehearse painful difficulties Paul has experienced along the way, his closing message is one of powerful trust in the providence of God. This is the echo of a lifetime of faith. Such testimonies are built on the few but near-miraculous signposts of grace that keep us hanging on to religious commitments.
One of the most amazing stories to come out of World War II is told by a chaplain with the US Air Force. A bombing mission in the South Pacific turned into a grueling night of terror for one B-52 crew. The fuel tanks began leaking when hit by enemy fire, and the plane barely managed an emergency landing on the beach of a small island. In the darkness their location was hidden from the Japanese soldiers who held the island, but dawn would make them prisoners of war.
"Chaplain," said the flight leader, "you've been telling us for months about the power of prayer. We're out of fuel! We're surrounded by the enemy! If you've ever prayed, pray now!"
While the rest of the crew patched the fuel tanks, the chaplain knelt in the sands to pray. Even when the others knocked off for a couple hours' rest, the chaplain kept to his post. About 2 a.m., a sentry heard something scrape against the sand at the water's edge. A cautious investigation revealed a large metal floating object -- a barge -- piled high with barrels. Each one contained gasoline -- high-octane gasoline -- airplane fuel. In a matter of minutes, the crew was roused, the tanks filled, and they were in the air again, bound for home!
But where had the fuel come from? Later investigations told the story. A supply ship captain, surrounded by enemy submarines 600 miles and several weeks away, had set his cargo of aircraft fuel afloat in hopes of saving lives. It landed fifty feet away from the bomber crew exactly when they needed it. What an answer to prayer!
"As luck would have it, providence was on my side!" wrote Samuel Butler. A bit more reverent is Paul's statement: "The Lord stood at my side and gave me strength." But what does that mean? Is it a good luck charm? Will it get you out of any scrape, even those of your own foolish doing? Hardly. We know of too many tragedies and cruelties and unrequited injustices even in the Christian community to believe that. A young Christian girl whose sister was sick and whose family was troubled by a long list of difficulties, once wrote to me: "I am angry with God right now ... Sometimes I even think our family is cursed. When something goes wrong I think, 'Oh no! Another curse!' "
Nor can Paul's trust in God be mere fatalism. The message of the Bible is not compatible with the idea that evil forces are either God's delight or his intent. No one can thank God for providential leading when a drunk driver crushes the body of a child. No one can praise God for providential direction when an airplane crashes or a mine collapses. These are not the things of which providence is made.
Thus it is difficult to read the times we live in or to easily identify the exact way God is moving with power or shaping destinies. The dangers are all too evident when we read the statement signed by 600 German pastors and fourteen theology professors in 1934: "We are thankful to God that He, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot." Such a confession seems demonic now!
In a sense, Paul's testimony is more a confession than a theological treatise. I believe God exists. I know that God can control the destinies of peoples and nations. I am confident that God has a direction, a purpose for this world, and I want to be a part of that leading. Even when things go "wrong" (from my own point of view) -- even when tragedy strikes -- even when no miracles happen -- "The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom." That's the confession of faith! That's the confidence of trust!
A young schoolteacher named Ray Palmer thought about that one night in 1830. He sat at his desk in the darkness and wrote a little poem to God. It was a prayer of trust, a statement of faith. One day he met Dr. Lowell Mason, a brilliant musician. Looking for verses to set to hymn tunes, Dr. Mason scanned Ray's poetry. It was all quite good but one poem moved him to tears. It was the nighttime prayer. With a melody of simple majesty, Mason published the hymn that spoke with the convictions of Paul. It still grabs hearts. It still brings tears. Its opening line goes like this: My faith looks up to thee!
Luke 18:9-14
A rather distinguished matron of high society felt the need to commission a lavish portrait of herself. But her demands and desires drove her from one artist to the next. None could do it right! Finally she stormed into the studio of still another candidate. As they settled on a fee, she told of her disappointment with others of his profession. "Young man!" she said, "I want you to do me justice!"
By now, the artist was having second thoughts. He looked her up and down and finally let it slip: "Madam," he said, "it's not justice you need. It's mercy!"
This may well help us think through Jesus' marvelous parable in a fresh way. Who do we think we are? What do we think we need? Why does Jesus take a bad man and make him a model for our prayers?
"Mercy is a beggar's refuge," said George Bernard Shaw, "a man must pay his debts!" That's how we feel when someone hurts us. Can you imagine a rape victim suffering a lifetime of psychological scars while her attacker gets a mild reprimand? Or a family carrying on with the knowledge that the drunk driver who senselessly slaughtered their son didn't even have his license suspended? "It isn't fair!" we shout. A cry for mercy from such trash is a beggar's refuge. We spit on it.
When Austrian Prince Schwarzenberg put down the Hungarian rebellion of 1849, some counselors advised mercy for the captives. "Yes, indeed," he replied, "a good idea; but first we will have a little hanging!" Often our hearts nod in assent.
Even our mercy can be laced with spite. When the first Elizabeth finally came to England's throne after the political and religious wrangling of the sixteenth century, a knight who had formerly despised her came seeking pardon. He threw himself at her feet begging mercy. With a flick of her hand she dismissed him, saying, "Do you not know that we are descended of the lion, whose nature is not to prey upon the mouse or any other such small vermin?"
A royal put-down indeed! But husbands do it to wives, and vice versa; neighbors condescendingly do it to each other; church members justify their cases and offer mean- spirited "forgiveness." "Community" becomes a shining ideal that we can't buy with our smoldering bitterness.
In Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, the main character borrows a great sum of money from Shylock. Due to adverse circumstances, he is unable to pay it back. Shylock demands justice, but seethes with vengeance. And, in a marvelous speech, Portia slices to the heart of human need:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven....
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.
-- Act IV, Scene 1
That's the kind of mercy the tax collector mutters about in Jesus' story. The great and good religious leaders stand to strut and pose, and behind him all this man feels is the blazing wrath of God. He knows he deserves divine anger. He knows he's not caught in an unfair tragedy of blind circumstances but wrapped up in the fair balances of justice.
Will he stand like a man and pay his debts? No, for in this courtroom there is no limit to the punishment and no door marked "Exit." All that's left is Love's second name: Mercy! And in the scent of that whisper, life begins again.
Application
Both the epistle and gospel lessons are intensely personal. They could be used to call out experiential reflections on how each person present came to faith and grew in grace. It might even be appropriate, using the 2 Timothy passage, to get people to think about what their obituaries might say and why. Did others catch from them that they indeed spent a life "Looking Up"?
Alternative Application
Joel 2:23-32; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14. There are many great hymns of faith connected to the passages in today's lectionary readings. These could shape segments of a message in which the testimonies of the past might inspire the singing of powerful songs that would renew the personal reflections of those gathered. They deepen their understanding of the journey of faith they are traveling in pilgrim company.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 65
Every morning when sleep leaves and waking comes there is cause for praising God. Caught up, as we are, in the currents and eddies of our lives, this is easy to forget. This wonderful psalm is a reminder. God's bounty and abundance spill into our lives like waters over a causeway. God's delight in creation explodes in a million different colors. In every moment there is reason to give God praise.
Once, when visiting a church out of town, I heard the pastor call for the people to adopt an "attitude of praise." What a wonderful concept this man offered his congregation. Usually when we speak of attitude it has a bad connotation. "That woman has a real attitude." But what if our attitude was one of continual praise of God? As my fingers wander over my keyboard in the process of writing this, I marvel at how they work. Praise God! I glance across the room and see my family, reading and studying along side me. Praise God! As a pastor I have the high privilege of walking with people down the corridors of their lives. It is an unbelievable gift. Praise God!
What would be the litany of praise that would articulate your life? What, aside from the obvious gifts of creation around us, would you list as you adopt your attitude of praise? The joyful chatter of Christian community? The precious gift of useful work? A chance to walk on the beach?
How different the world might be if praise became the medium with which we painted our lives. Rather than ambition or pride, turn to praise. Instead of greed or anger, lean into praise. In place of casting cynical glances from the sidelines, leap into a life of unabashed praise of God almighty.
Imagine with me the early Christian community as described in Acts. The people of God shared everything in common and lived continually praising God. No want, no need, no shame or sorrow! Everything given over to God's love as an act of praise for what God has done for us.
Yes, yes, some will say it's not realistic. Others will raise an eyebrow and bid us come to live in the real world. Still a few more will recommend therapy, but as for me and my house, we will praise the Lord!
