October 20 — Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

Listen to this sermon HERE.


“Pray always. Do not lose heart...Will God find faith on earth?”

We’ve just returned from a two-week trip back to my hometown: Houston, TX.  We drove.  

So at first glance, I think I can resonate with the way Jesus describes this widow who kept continually crying out in the parable.  Our kids gave us a few vivid images from the back seat (for the most part they were great).  But on those long days across the West Texas desert, one might have heard in the Roschke car: “Daddy, can have some more.  Why not, why not?  Mommy, Katie’s bothering me.  Micah’s took my dolly.”  And of course the ever popular, “Are we there yet?”  There were moments :)

Jesus tells us about a widow kept coming and asking and pleading and crying, too.  But she was after more than candy and rest stops and punishing her little sister.  She was after justice.  “Grant me justice against my opponent,” was her plea.  And the widow, it helps to remember, in the ancient Mediterranean, was a symbol, everyone knew, of injustice, of the edge of society, of the poor.  For the widows, in those days, had no one to advocate for them, to represent them in court, or in life.  So she has to advocate for herself.  And Jesus tells us this parable to teach us something about our need to pray and not lose heart.

The widow was not just a whiner in the backseat who needed a quick fix.  The widow was caught at the bottom of a system in which it seemed she had no hope at all of changing.  The widow was not a little kid who needed a snack (sometimes our prayers can be like that).  The widow is the woman whose people have had to sit at the back of the bus her whole life. (pause) 
The widow is man who has been denied by the church that he loves his entire life because something about him is different.  (pause)  The widow is the teenager who just can get a break — born with two strikes against him, brought up in a violent home, caught up in a dangerous neighborhood, no choice but to attend grossly underfunded schools, where teachers are trying but are cynical.  Sixteen years is a long time to yearn for a break.

The widow is anyone who has endured hardship for a long time.  And Jesus uses this searing images to teach us a lesson about prayer:  Sometimes prayer doesn’t happen on our knees, with our hands folded.  Sometimes prayer means getting up, uncrossing our hands, and advocating...for ourselves or even for others.

“Lord, grant me (grant us all, grant this whole world) justice.”

Our vacation didn’t end in the desert of West Texas.  We made it, thanks be to God, safely to Houston.  And last Sunday we were at the church where I grew up; the church where I was confirmed; the church that sent me their newsletter the whole time I was in college, even though I usually tossed it in the recycle, this was the church that made sure I knew they were still there and loved me; this was the church that put me and my dear friend through seminary, full gift, because they too, like this community believed in raising up leaders for the church (Linda, my friend, is now the Treasurer for the whole ELCA).  What a gift that church gave...and I get to be your pastor, un-crippled by tuition debt.  Last Sunday we visited that church — where I was ordained, where probably about two dozen clergy (many of whom had watched me grow up) turned out in their robes and their grey hair to put their hands on me as the stole was placed upon my shoulders.  
Last Sunday we went back to that church, and like lots of churches in the middle of fall, with a Houston Texans football game against the Rams looming that afternoon, with everyone busy with life, the sanctuary of that dear church felt a little empty.  Some apologized to us that there weren’t as many people there anymore.  But what got me were the ones who still were.  Alice Chadwell, Ron Seimers, Marylyn Healy, Kurt Nelson, Sam and Barbara Skjonsby, Howard and Judy Bolt, the whole Jansen family, their little kids now in high school and college — all still there, and Mary Teslow.  Older folks, and not so old folks.  Sill. Showing. Up.  

(I’m still talking about praying always and not losing hope.)          

Every Sunday between services, they serve a breakfast at Salem out of their little, run-down old kitchen, that was brand new when I was growing up.  And the people still gather every Sunday between services to study the Bible — two big groups.  One of the church council members was leading the study that I went to, and he started with a simple, beautiful prayer: “Thank you, God, for this day full of grace.”  And together the dozen or so people joined in discussing II Corinthians.  Nothing flashy really about.  

I was nearly moved to tears as they bickered a little bit with one another in the bible study, they seemed to be irritating each other a little with their same old comments.  But they were all still there.  I know many of their stories — lost jobs, lost spouses, lost children.  In many ways, like so many this was yet another congregation of “widows”.  Nothing flashy. But they were still there.  Bambelela—never give up (like they were hanging on the back of a bouncing train).  

The worship service was OK, I guess.  Dad preached.  Nothing flashy really about it.  But the people gathered.  Bambelela. And they prayed, they prayed for themselves, they prayed for others.  When Christ comes, will he find faith on earth?  I think so, in churches like that, and in churches like this.

Sometimes a little distance, or a lot of distance, helps us see what’s right under our noses — people gathering, nothing flashy, week after week, year after year, decade after decade.  Showing up for one another.  Sure, irritating each other at times, but never giving up, supporting one another through good times and through bad.  We can tell those same stories here, or wherever you’re from….because this isn’t about us.  It’s about God.  God is faithful and has not abandoned us.  

Jesus’ story tells us that this cruel, unjust, self-centered judge granted that widow justice.  And his point is that if that selfish judge did it, then how much more will God do it?!  We just have to open our eyes and see it...see through the hardship and the bickering, and the strikes that are against us. 

How much more has God already granted us?  But we just don’t see it.  Praying and not losing heart is about seeing the things that are right under our noses, and sticking for the long haul.  “Thank you God, for this day FULL of grace.”  

It’s yours, it’s ours — this good grace — and it’s meant to be shared.  Bask in it this day, sisters and brothers in Christ, pass it on! God’s mercy and gracious judgement, Christ’s joy and peace is here to stay.  AMEN.