I've gotten out of the habit of posting my sermons this fall, but today I am with the people of St. Michael's on the Heights Church in Worcester and thought it might be a good time to return to this practice. The readings for this day can be found here.
Over the course of the past five months, Luke has been
slowly and methodically inviting us to follow along with Jesus and the
disciples as they make that 120 mile-long journey from Galilee to Jerusalem.
Over these past few weeks, their conversation has turned to prayer.
Last week we heard about the healing of ten lepers in the region between Samaria and Galilee. As you may recall, only one of those ten returned to say, “thank you.” (And he was a Samaritan!) This encounter reminds us that gratitude goes to the very heart of what Christian prayer is all about. Someone I know posted these words as their Facebook status: “Envy is the art of counting someone else’s blessings.” We might turn that around and remember that gratitude is the art of counting our own blessings.
Today, Jesus teaches persistence in prayer. He sets before us a parable of a persistent widow who wears out a corrupt judge in her pursuit of justice. I suspect that most of us, when we hear about widows, tend to think of savvy, wise, determined old ladies. Fair enough; I have known my fair share of them. But I wonder if it helps us to hear that parable in new ways to picture “the widow” as someone more like, say, Julia Roberts playing Erin Brockovich and taking on a corrupt legal system because she is out of options. Or perhaps Sally Field in Places of the Heart, a young widow trying to save her farm and get the crop in against all odds.
It seems to me that much of what passes for prayer in the church is just plain anemic. Sometimes we pray as functional atheists: we pray because we know that is what Christians are supposed to do. But deep down we aren’t really sure we expect much to happen, either in the heart of God or in our own hearts. But Jesus invites us to take note of that persistent widow and to take note of her determination and courage and ultimately her faith. And then Jesus says: try to pray more like that.
That doesn’t mean we will always get exactly what we asked for. I sometimes joke when I am asked to pray for good weather or a Patriots victory that I’m in sales, not management. But underneath the joke lies a much more serious point. We are all in sales; not management. Ultimately God gets to be God.
So, Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.
The Hebrew and Greek words for “heart” are used
814 times in the Bible to refer to the human heart and 26 times to refer to the
heart of God. In Greek it’s cardio, a root familiar to anybody
who has ever had an EKG or been in a Cardiac Care facility or gotten your heart
rate up on purpose by doing cardio exercises at the gym.
In the world of the Bible, the heart was seen as more than a pump. It was the center of emotions and feelings, of moods and passions. The metaphor is the same as when we celebrate Valentine’s Day.
The heart is capable of both joy and grief. In Acts 2:26 we read: “therefore my heart was glad.” In Psalm 13 the poet asks “must I have sorrow in my heart all the day?”
The heart can be a source of courage as in II Samuel 17: “the heart of a valiant man that is like the heart of a lion.” It can also become a source of fear, as when Joseph’s brothers discover their brother is still alive “and their hearts failed them and they turned trembling to one another…” (Genesis 42:28)
But in the Bible the heart is seen as even more than all of this. We tend to think of matters of the “head” and of the “heart” as separate realities with a clear division of labor: the head as the place for matters of intellect and the heart as more emotional. But for ancient peoples the heart was also seen as the center for decision-making, and as the place of devotion and obedience to God. It was the place where discernment happened.
So Jesus says, across the centuries: pray always, and do not lose heart.
I like this reminder, from Pope Francis: “you
pray for the hungry. Then you feed them. This is how prayer works.” There
is, in that same vein, a petition that comes to us from the Iona Community in
Scotland. It goes like this:
Lord, hear our prayers, and if today we might be the
means by which you answer the prayers of others, then may you find us neither
deaf nor defiant, but keen to fulfill your purpose, for Jesus’ sake.
Jesus tells the story of the persistent widow. Basically, she nags the judge until the judge gives in. It’s about persistence. The parable is not saying God is like an unjust judge. Let that go. Jesus tells stories to uncover theological truths but the parables are not usually allegorical, which is to say that there does not need to be a correlation with God to make it real.
The Living God knows our hearts already. The Living God’s heart is full with compassion and steadfastness for each of us and for this world, and for all the little children of this world, and for the earth itself. God is love.
We pray not to convince God to hear us, precisely because God is NOT like an unjust judge. But we persist in prayer to open our own hearts and to soften up our hard hearts. We pray so that we can hear God, so that when we might be the means to answer the prayers of others we might be neither deaf nor defiant but ready to act with courage and hope.
You all know this, of course. If our neighbors are in need of diapers for their babies, we pray for them – of course. But no one expects God to rain down diapers on those who need them. You all, aware of a need, provide the diapers. It’s how prayer works. The parable is not an allegory for God; it’s a story of persistence and of not losing heart.
I wonder what that might have to say to a congregation at the front end of a clergy renewal leave? I had an opportunity to walk with Fr. Dave in between the time when I was away for some rest and his began. Among other things we talked about how St. Michael’s has changed and been changed by the pandemic. We talked hopefully about the future. We also spoke (as I have with so many of our clergy over the past few years) about how tiring it has been.
This is not limited to clergy, of course. Lots of people are exhausted and have carried a heavy load throughout the pandemic. Teachers, health care workers, people who work in the service industry to name a few. There is something called emotional labor that folks in these roles take on – it’s not just the work, it’s not punching a clock – it’s adapting and holding a lot of emotional stuff. So I’m glad for Dave and not too long ago for myself, and for others who have a chance to step back and recharge the batteries.
But I also hope that this time can be the same here at St. Michael’s: a season of reflecting and recharging and getting ready for the new thing God is up to in our world and in the church.
It’s easy to lose heart these days. But part of letting our light shine in the world is about the practice of persistent prayer, so that we do not lose heart. I invite you, during this season, to pray like that widow for wisdom, courage, discernment; for faith, hope, and love. For an awareness of God’s abiding presence, not as unjust judge, but as loving friend.
More on prayer next Sunday; in the meantime: pray always and do not lose heart.
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