Sunday, October 20, 2019

Sermon - Nevertheless, we persist (19th Sunday after Pentecost C)


Proper 25 – Year C                                                            October 20, 2019 
Genesis 32:22-31, Luke 18:1-8                                         Panzer Liturgical Service

Life is not fair. And anyone who tells you differently is lying.

I’m pretty sure that each of you is thinking of an instance where this is true. I am overwhelmed with thoughts of good, faithful people who suffered through illness, the death of friends and family, natural disasters, or suffered under the burden of public and private discrimination. I am reminded of crooks and scoundrels, murderers and assailants, bullies and accomplices, who got away with terrible things and never suffered the consequences that the law demands.

But while God never promised us fair, He is present in the midst of our struggles. The Genesis and Luke passages speak of this well.

In the Hebrew Bible lesson from Genesis, we are confronted with Jacob, returning home after a decades-long absence. To set the story up well, we have to go back to Genesis 25 to remember who he was and why he left. Jacob was the younger twin to Esau, sons of Isaac and Rebekkah. From the very beginning, God knew that these two boys would go in opposite ways. And this caused a great deal of conflict between them from the beginning.

Esau was a man’s man – hunter, outdoorsman, and Isaac’s favorite. Jacob was a homebody - quiet and studious, and the apple of Rebekkah’s eye. So, we can already see from just a few verses how there will never be peace in this family. The ultimate conflict comes while Jacob is making a stew. Esau returns famished from working the field, and instead of just sharing what he’s made, Jacob uses it as leverage against Esau. Think of everyday battles between siblings.
Esau: Hey, give me some of that – I’m starving.
Jacob: I made this for myself – get your own food, dude.
Esau: I’ll give you whatever you want – just give me the stew.
Jacob: OK, in return, give me your right to be the heir.
Esau: I’m so hungry I might die if you don’t give it to me, so what the heck – yeah, OK.

And so, it was done.

What Esau doesn’t count on is what this would mean when his father, Isaac, actually died. Old and blind and on his death bed, he asks Esau to prepare a meal from freshly killed game, sealing Isaac’s final blessing. Meanwhile, Rebekkah schemes, preparing two lambs that Jacob brings from the pasture for Jacob to give to Isaac instead. Her reasoning is that if Jacob brings the food first, he will get the blessing reserved for Esau. And just in case the food isn’t enough to do it, she places lamb skin on Jacob’s smooth arms to trick Isaac into thinking he is Esau. And indeed, lying to Isaac several times about his identity, Jacob receives the blessing meant for his brother.

Totally not fair. And especially unfair to Esau because Jacob received his father’s blessing, and also the blessing of God. Genesis 28 highlights the vision of Jacob as he escapes from the Esau (we are climbing Jacob’s ladder) and the promise of God for many descendants and God’s protection. Jacob was so moved by this dream, that he made a sacred alter, anointed it with oil, and named it Bethel – God’s house.

Fast forward 20 years. Jacob has a large family and much wealth. He has been working for years for his father-in-law, but isn’t really feeling appreciated anymore, and in this process is called by God to return to the land where he came from. So, he gathers up his wives and children and flocks and belongings and head back home. But going home means coming to terms with Esau and the drama of his deception.

As he nears home, he sends messengers to ask that Esau allow him to come home – Be kind, he asks. The messengers return saying, “Esau is coming with 400 men.”  Think about how you would feel if you were him – this is very, very bad.

First Jacob thinks – OK, if I divide my people and my stuff into two different camps, maybe one will survive. Then he prays to God: “OK, God, you told me to come home. I don’t deserve all the blessings I have. Please keep your promise to keep me well. Save me from my brother Esau.” Lastly, he makes a gift for Esau – multiple goats and rams, camels, bulls, and donkeys, and send them ahead to soften the blow of his coming home.

At the end of the journey, he sent his personal entourage across the river, close to where Esau and his men would be. But Jacob stayed alone on the near side. Or at least he thought he was alone. The scripture just says this: 

But Jacob stayed apart by himself, and a man wrestled with him until dawn broke. 

Was it an angel? What it a man – maybe even Esau coming to exact some revenge in secret? What it the very person of God? We do not know. But we do know this. Jacob did not come away without a permanent reminder of the experience. His limp would always keep this experience close - his every going and coming would be marked by this encounter.

But the limp is not the only thing that Jacob takes away. From this time forth, his name was Israel – one who struggles with God and perseveres. In Israelite culture, names were given to tell something about that person. A change in name would indicate a significant change in status. The name “Jacob” meant “he takes by the heel,” referring to the way Esau supplanted Jacob when they were born. At this point in the story, Jacob comes into his own independent destiny. He confronts his past and comes out on top.

This is not just a story about the person Israel, but also the people of Israel, and the story about their relationship with God. The land of Israel defined itself as a people who refused to let go of God. They would fight with God to demand that Yahweh bless them. They were a people willing to be changed, even damaged in that exchange, because they knew that attaining that blessing was worth the sacrifice. They were not a people of passive faith.

For Christians, heirs of the Jewish faith, this story gives us a vivid model for prayer. God is not looking for lukewarm followers. God rewards those who are willing to fight for the heavenly blessing. In this story, God is unrecognizable to the bystander, until the blessing is requested – that would have been for God alone to give. It is in wrestling with God that Jacob’s heirs – even us – see God’s face.

Turning over the Genesis 33, we know that Esau forgives Jacob and for a while, all is well. Lesson learned: God is with us in the blessing and the struggle – and sometimes the struggle is the blessing, even if we end up limping away.

This is not an unusual view of prayer in the Hebrew Bible. Look at Job, Lamentations, the Psalms and you will see this same idea – God’s presence and blessing are not only given in the good times, but even more often as we struggle to see God in our lives at all. In the gospel reading for this Sunday, Jesus’ parable of the woman who nags the judge until he gives her what she wants (Luke 18:1-8) extends this definition of faith into the New Testament.[i] God rewards those who won’t let go.
(c) Ana B Design

The persistent widow in Jesus’ parable from Luke 18 is that kind of woman… she will not settle for injustice, even in the case of a judge who did not fear God or respect the people he served. He refused to hear her case many times, but she still kept coming, becoming a real thorn in his side. Finally, he said, “Enough already – I’ll find in her favor just to keep her out of my hair.” I’m pretty sure that every parent, teacher, boss and child knows this feeling… alright already – please let’s move on to something else.

But let’s not be confused. Jesus is not saying that God is the unjust and angry judge – it’s actually the opposite. He says, “If this no-good judge can dispense justice in light of a persistent widow, how much more will God, who is infinitely just, fulfill our prayers, even if it’s not in the ways we expect.” Jesus is reminding us that we are to be diligent, and even persistent in orienting ourselves toward God.[ii]

One of the biggest mistakes we can make is falling into the belief that our prayers are a checklist which we expect God to tick off according to our timelines. Prayer is not just talking to God. It is also listening to God. 

We do this when we read and study scripture. Memorizing verses is good, but I’m also a believer in reading the biblical story like a good book, taking note of the ways our own lives are mirrored in the lives of our biblical heroes and even its villains. Listening to God happens in worship, as the words of our liturgy, which stay basically the same every week, take on new meaning in light of a scripture or a hymn or something that happened during the week.

Listening to God happens in our Christian conversation with friends and family. I am always amazed at the ways that others can give me new perspective on my most urgent prayer requests, leading me to accept or enable solutions that I would never have thought of myself.

When Jacob began his journey back home, he was being obedient, but he was also afraid. He laid out several contingency plans to save his flocks, his family and his servants. But in the end, he also expected the worst – that Esau would reject him or even exact justice due him for the harm done to Esau and his family so many years before. Ultimately, Esau forgave him, but Jacob always carried with him a permanent reminder of the struggles and the blessings of his life. That didn’t make him any less blessed or justice any less present.

Both of these stories remind us that God doesn’t fit in to an easy mold, be it “wrathful God” or the “God who solves all my problems.” Like Jacob, we often come away from our encounters with God with amazing blessings, but sometimes we also come away limping, permanently marked. Like the widow, in our persistence, we receive justice, often more than we are due, because of the boundless generosity of our God, who is intimately engaged with us, who seeks us out, reacts to our persistence, and blesses us in ways we would never have chosen ourselves.

If there is any lesson I take away from today it is this: Our God not like us – God is wily, unpredictable, dangerous and just. God will always stay the course – we are called to have the courage and persistence to claim the blessing that is ours.[iii]

Nevertheless, we persist!

Peace, Deb

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