This week we’re
faced with a challenging reading, aren’t we? We start with the lamentation in Jeremiah
– the harvest is past – not just in, but gone and done. Summer is ended –
without, presumably, the joys and colours of the briskness of fall. And - we’re
still not delivered. Our joy is gone, grief is upon us, and our hearts are
sick. Eek.
Then we move to our psalm. Death and destruction
greet us there. It’s a bloody – literally – mess, and all we can do is plead
for God to forgive our sins and be merciful. And we aren’t told how this psalm
ends, we are left hanging there in uncertainty.
Then we move
on to the Gospel. Yes, let’s go to the Gospel - the good news – the scriptures
we turn to for comfort and peace and calmness. Whoops, maybe not this week!
Egads. Here we have a dishonest manager who is being upheld. A parable about
devotion, about choosing our masters. A lecture about economics. Oi.
What is a
preacher to do? Well, there are biblical commentaries. There are discussion
groups. There are online resources. There are ways to focus on one area and try
to avoid this confusion. And yet there’s no denying it: this is a hard week to
preach. The readings are difficult. And – for everyone who has heard or read
this parable, everyone who has struggled with trying to find it’s meaning,
everyone who has tried to preach on it – we’re not really finding the good news
here.
As for my week with these scriptures, here’s the reality. I don’t know
what it means. No one I spoke with this week knows what it means. No one in the
chat rooms, in the commentary books, in the history books – we don’t understand
it. And if I don’t understand it, how can I possibly try to tell you folks –
intelligent, faithful, lovely folks – what it means?
So. What is God saying to us this week then? Is there anything that can
come out of these readings?
And then it hit me. In the Timothy reading. Prayer. We’re called to pray first and foremost. Not
as an afterthought, but first of all. Pray. For everyone – especially leaders
and people in high places. Whether we want to or not. We’re called to offer
supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings.
So the folks in Jeremiah, in the midst of their turmoil, are called to
pray. They’re called to look beyond the perception of utter bleakness to become
satisfied with what is before them. There is anger, there is hurt, there is ill
health. And because of that they are challenged to pray for their leaders; that
they might be the kind of people who worry about their people. That their rule
might bring the balm, the physician, the health, the end of grief. They are
called to pray.
And in the Psalm, as Jerusalem lies in ruins, they are called to pray.
They’re called to look beyond the defiled temple, the blood poured out in the
streets, the taunting and derision of neighbours. They’re called to pray for
leaders who will journey with them beyond the earthly pain and anguish and
strive with them to seek the true glory of God’s name, who will journey with
them through earthly conflict into heavenly compassion, who will journey with
them as they transgress from anger into a time of nations knowing the power and
mercy of God. They’re called to pray.
Then we have this very confusing Gospel, where Luke baffles the ages
with this parable that seems as though Jesus’ teachings are inconsistent, are
contradictory, are incomprehensible. The people listening are called,
challenged, to pray. To pray for a master whose extreme wealth does not
minimise his cruelty towards those who owe him. To pray for a manager who is
looking after only himself and his earthly future. To pray for those poor indebted
folks who could be accused of changing their own debt sheets should they be
caught, yet who see no other option before them. The people are called to pray –
for leaders who have succumbed to the seductive corruption of financial wealth.
For those leaders who cannot resist the temptation to continually increase
their wealth at the expense of the poor who are barely surviving. For the
leaders who are serving two masters, for those who are serving only the master
of wealth, for those who are primarily serving only the Master, our Lord.
Then we have the scripture of our own lives. The examples we set for
others as we live our lives, day in and day out. We are called to pray for our
own situation, for our leaders, for those in authority in our time. We’re
called to pray for the leaders of al-Shabab, who have claimed responsibility
for the gunfire assault in Nairobi. We’re called to pray for the leaders of the
Tamil National Alliance as they assume semi-autonomous power in Sri Lanka for
the first time in decades. We’re called to pray for the leaders organising the
series of suicide bombings in Iraq. We’re called to pray for the leaders in
Syria: the leaders of Assad’s government, and the leaders of the rebels,
despite the extreme violence that all sides have brought upon their own people.
We’re called to pray in our own country, for the leaders whose decisions make
us shout for joy, and those whose decisions make us shout in frustration. We’re
called to pray.
So I invite us to pray. To pray when we understand things, and when we
don’t. To pray when we are happy, to pray when we are sad, to pray when we are
frustrated. I invite us to pray when we know what to pray for, and especially
when we don’t know. I invite us to pray for our leaders – in all of their
forms, in all of their leadership roles. Let us hold in prayer those who bear
the burden of making decisions, who are faced with the dilemma of trying to
make the best decision based on their best knowledge. I invite us to pray for
those who live in conflict, those who live in peace, those who live in scarcity,
those who live in abundance. I invite us to pray for our leaders; in our
ignorance, in our knowledge, in our arrogance, in our humility.
I pray that we will be led by those who serve the same Master that we
do.
