Luke 18:1-8 – Hopping Hadrian's Wall

Sermon for Proper 24, Year C

For several years, my family and I enjoyed watching a TV show based on the classic comic book character The Flash. For those who may not be familiar, The Flash is a superhero, real name Barry Allen, whose special power is that he can run very fast.

Early on in the series, Barry figures out that, if he runs fast enough, he can actually go back in time and change the past. So, being a hero with his heart in the right place, he goes back in time to prevent his mother’s untimely death. He succeeds at this task, but then returns to the present day to discover that his good deed has created unintended consequences. Much of the rest of the series involves Barry repeatedly going back in time to correct past mistakes, against the advice of his friends and mentors. Each time, he creates a new set of unintended consequences, which he then feels compelled to go back and fix.

If this sounds frustrating and repetitive, that’s because it is. I don’t actually recommend the show. Not for moral reasons, but simply because it gets too annoying to watch. During the opening credits, the hero introduces himself, saying, “My name is Barry Allen and I am the fastest man alive,” but the kids and I took to shouting in unison over that line. When he said, “My name is Barry Allen,” we would all shout back, “and I make poor life choices!” Eventually, it got so bad that our family decided to give up on watching the show.

Barry Allen’s main problem in The Flash is that he tries to control things that he cannot, in fact, control. Some people call this kind of behavior codependent and some call it neurotic (and they’re both partially right, even though codependency and neurosis are both much bigger than that one thing, but that’s a topic for another day).

We all know what it’s like to live in a world where things, as they are, are not things as they should be. Trying to control things we can’t control is one possible response to this situation. As we can see with The Flash, this approach often leads to unintended consequences. Other responses include sticking our heads in the sand denying that there’s a problem at all, lashing out in anger and becoming the mirror-image of the evil we resist (like the Soviets did when they replaced the oppression of the Tzars with an even more oppressive regime in 20th century Russia), or giving into the demon of despair, thus giving up on any possibility of making life even marginally better for ourselves and our neighbors.Understandably, none of these sounds like a particularly appealing option.

In today’s gospel, Jesus offers us another way to respond when we come face-to-face with a world that is not as it should be. He does so, as he often does, by telling a parable about a scene that would have been all-too-familiar to his audience.

The story begins with a judge, “who neither feared God nor had respect for people,” and a widow. Widows, in that time, were among the most vulnerable members of society because they lacked a male voice to speak up for them in public affairs. Such was the sexism of that society.

Biblical scholars have pointed out several details, based on context clues, that would have stood out to the people who heard Jesus tell this parable the first time. First of all, as we already noted, she has no male representation in court. This would mean that she has no living father, brothers, or adult sons.

Second, we know from the legal practices of the time that women were entitled to keep whatever property they brought into the marriage, whenever that marriage ended by death or divorce. If she had a lot of money, this would make her an appealing target for her late-husband’s relatives, who may have wanted to keep the dead man’s estate for themselves.

Third, we also know, based on legal practices of the time, that a quorum of three to seven judges was supposed to rule on cases of inheritance law, like this one. So, the fact that there was only one judge in this case would have been a major red flag to Jesus’ audience. It would seem most likely to them that the judge was taking bribes in order to cover up a backroom deal to cheat the widow out of what was rightfully hers. That kind of corruption was not uncommon in Jesus’ day.

So, what was the widow supposed to do about it? According to Jesus, she had to keep showing up and speaking up for what she believed was right.

The author of Luke’s gospel tells us, in the editorial note at the beginning of the parable, that this is a story about prayer. God, the author says, is not like the unjust judge, but “will quickly grant justice” to those who cry out for it.

This, admittedly, is a tough phrase to hear. After all, people in pain have been fervently crying out to God for thousands of years, but still the world is not as it should be. Was Jesus wrong?

Well, that depends on what we mean by the word prayer.

If we define prayer as, “getting what we ask for from the all-powerful Man in the Sky,” then the unavoidable answer is Yes, Jesus was wrong. After two millennia of waiting and praying, God has still not set right the wrongs we see in the world around us, despite our frequent crying out. If however, we define prayer as, “the foundational act of reorienting our lives around the central fact of Love,” then the answer is a resounding No, Jesus was not wrong. Prayer works.

My favorite teaching on the subject of prayer comes from the 20th century saint, Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She says, “I used to believe that prayer changes things; now I know that prayer changes us and we change things.”

Mother Teresa, as we know, spent her days living out the truth of these words. She worked tirelessly in the slums of India to bring relief to those who suffer and encouraged people around the world to find their own Calcutta in their own backyards. She is a saint, not because she said a few pious words, but because she lived out the words she prayed. Her life itself was an act of prayer, continually seeking and serving Christ in all people, just as we have promised to do in our Baptismal Covenant. Mother Teresa showed us the way.

This, I believe, is the answer that Christ calls for in response to the injustice of this world. It is neither denial, nor control, nor anger, nor despair. It is an acceptance of the fact that things in this world are not as they should be, and that the way things are is unacceptable.

Therefore, kindred in Christ, we are called to keep showing up: for ourselves, for each other, for what is true, and for what is right. Whether we are raking leaves for an elderly neighbor or marching in a protest, we keep showing up. Whether we are kneeling in church or going to therapy to repair our broken relationships, we keep showing up. Consistently, persistently, and even obnoxiously showing up is the way of prayer, as Jesus described it in today’s parable.

At the end of the Prayers of the People in our weekly liturgy, the priest prays a short Collect. The Book of Common Prayer gives several options. My favorite is the one we are using today. Listen for it when we come to that section of the service in a few minutes. It says, “Almighty and eternal God, ruler of all things in heaven and on earth: Mercifully accept the prayers of your people, and strengthen us to do your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

What I like about that prayer is that it connects the idea of God accepting our prayers with the idea of us doing God’s will. In my mind, that connection is key. I cannot, in good conscience, pray for God to change the world if I am unwilling to do anything about it. By the same token, I cannot successfully change the world if I don’t ask for help, because the task is far too big for any one person to accomplish alone. We need God and God needs us, if this world is to be any different from the way it has been for all of human history.

Prayer is the lifeline that keeps us connected to each other and the Source of Life. It works slowly and gently, like the water of the Colorado River eroding the walls of the Grand Canyon. It may not make a visible difference overnight, but in time, it will create a geological spectacle that is a wonder to behold.

All we need to do, as the author of Luke’s gospel said, is to “pray always,” and in all ways, and “not to lose heart.”

Amen.

I’ve been preaching in churches all over this Presbytery for about a year. Ironically, one of the few churches where I haven’t preached is the one I’ve been attending for the last 4 years! I was very glad to get to preach and lead worship for our friends at Westernville Presbyterian Church.

The text for this week is Luke 18:1-8.

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When Sarah and I were in seminary together in Vancouver, there was a certain professor with whom I had a troubled relationship. I met this professor on my first day of classes. Young and eager, I burst into his office after class and told him all my ambitions for getting a PhD and teaching in a university. I was hoping to gain a personal connection with this professor. What I wanted most of all was his affirmation and approval.

After listening to me pouring my heart out, he asked what my undergraduate GPA had been. When I told him, he shook his head and told me that it really should have been a full point higher. In the future, he said, the college would raise its admission standards so that students like me wouldn’t be allowed in.

To be sure, my professor’s response was a bit rude. But, to be fair to him, I had just barged into his office with a heart full of unrealistic personal expectations for this academic professional.

I was devastated, but also determined. I put on my best “I’ll show him” attitude and hunkered down into seminary life. I told myself I would force this professor to give me an ‘A’. So I spoke out in class whenever I had something to say. I submitted papers and articles for his feedback. I showed up in his office whenever I could think of an excuse. But the harder I fought for his approval, the more frustrated I became.

The widow in Jesus’ parable knew a thing or two about frustration as well. Jesus didn’t tell us the specifics of the case she was pleading before the judge. All we know about her is that she was desperate for justice. As a widow with no apparent son, she would have been one of the most vulnerable and disenfranchised people in her society. Some scholars think that the Hebrew word for ‘Widow’ (Almanah) is actually derived from the word for ‘Silence’ (Alam). A widow, in that society, was (literally) a person without a voice. She had no legal recourse for pursuing justice. Her persistence in nagging the judge was her only weapon in this case.

As for the judge himself, we learn quickly that he is not someone to be liked or trusted. Jesus said that he “neither feared God nor had respect for people”. This particular phrase was often used in that time to describe individuals who were both corrupt and powerful. He was above the law because, in the eyes of his society, he was the law. There was no real reason why that judge should listen to this widow. But we know that she prevailed on him in the end. This widow’s obnoxious persistence drove the judge to the point of insanity. In the end, he relented, saying, “I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out”. In Greek, the phrase here can be literally translated, “so that she may not give me a black eye”. As calloused and powerful as he was, this judge was beginning to feel beat up and worn down by a poor, defenseless widow!

Jesus teaches his followers that God is like this judge, only better. He showed that even the corrupt and calloused powers-that-be can be swayed by the persistent badgering. How much more quickly will God, the author of justice, be persuaded to act on behalf of the poor and oppressed?

This was an open question in the ancient world. How long would God wait before helping the chosen people? The book of Psalms is littered with cries for justice and deliverance. Throwing a fist in the air, the Psalmist bellows, “How long, O Lord?” The Jewish people were very familiar with the Passover story in the book of Exodus. Every year they celebrated the liberation of their ancestors from slavery and oppression in Egypt. Yet, this annual celebration led to a difficult question: “If God did so much for our ancestors in the Bible, why doesn’t God do something for us now?” It was all too easy to lose faith in this mysterious and unseen God of Israel. We read that many of the ancient Hebrews turned away from their God in favor of other deities whose idols could be seen with one’s eyes. These lesser gods could be understood and controlled through an elaborate (and brutal) system of human sacrifices.

We, in our society, are no less interested in forces that can be understood and controlled. We, in the postmodern world, are obsessed with quantifiable results. We desire measurable efficiency in everything from the performance of our cars to the performance of our politicians. We are trained to ask the question, “Does it work?” We even ask this question of our spiritual practices. When it comes to prayer, the number one excuse people give for not praying is, “It doesn’t work.” So Jesus’ question, “Will not God grant justice to the chosen ones who cry out day and night?” is an open question for us as well.

Jesus answers this question in verse 8: “I tell you, God will quickly grant justice to them.” Jesus affirms the power of prayer to make a difference in this world, but then he turns the question back around and directs it at us, “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” The question is no longer about the power of prayer; instead the question is about us.

I think Jesus is correcting a deep misconception about the purpose of prayer. In our results-oriented society, we are obsessed with the question, “Does it work?” The value of prayer is to be measured only in terms of the practical results it produces in our lives. Was the sick person healed? Did the check arrive in time? Were the fighting parties reconciled? Did that person find peace before the end? Jesus affirms the power of prayer to make a difference in these areas, but he also invites us to take a look at the deeper importance of prayer. Before prayer changes the world, prayer changes us. This is the standard by which Jesus measures the effectiveness of prayer. Any sorcerer can give you a magic spell to change your situation for the better, but only God can change your heart for the better. Prayer changes you before it changes the world.

In my frustration with my seminary professor, God taught me a lesson about having a changed heart. As I said before, I tried like crazy to get this professor to notice me, but nothing seemed to work. In time, my frustration gave way to hatred. My friends learned to not mention his name in my presence because of the unkind things I would say about him. You could say that I was in desperate need of a “heart transplant”. I prayed for him. I prayed that God would forgive him for the pain he caused me. I prayed that God would help me forgive him.

The answer to those prayers came late one night as I stood on the balcony of my apartment. This professor was on my mind and I prayed once again that God would help me forgive him. Then, a thought occurred to me that made me stop in my tracks. I didn’t need to forgive this professor for his rude comments to me. I needed to ask forgiveness for the bitterness that was consuming my soul from the inside out. Looking back, I think that was the Holy Spirit speaking to me and telling me what I needed to do in order to find peace.

Later that week, I went back to my professor’s office. This time, I sat before him, not as an ambitious young graduate student, but as a broken brother in Christ. I told him about the bitterness I harbored in my heart. I apologized for having such unrealistic expectations about him. I confessed my sin of hatred to the person I hated.

His response surprised me. I had come to think of him as a cold-hearted snake who didn’t care about anyone but himself. In that moment, I found him to be a warm and gracious person who accepted my apology and then prayed for me, right there in his office. In his prayer for me, he expressed his admiration for my commitment to always do the right thing. It was in my moment of greatest weakness that I finally found the personal connection and affirmation that I so longed for from this man.

I never did get that PhD (although I did end up teaching college). Was my prayer answered in the end? I think so. Not because my desires were fulfilled, but because God used that situation to transform me into a new kind of person.

As you look at your life this morning, how have your prayers changed you? Can you think of a time in your life when the power of prayer didn’t just transform your circumstances, but transformed you into a new kind of person? If so, that’s great! It means you’re on the right track. If you can’t think of an example from your life, take some time this week to think about what it is that you’re praying for. As you ask God to change your situation, take an extra second to ask how God wants you to change in the midst of this situation. If you don’t pray at all, why not give it a try this week? You might be surprised at the way it transforms the world around you. You might be even more surprised at the way it changes you.

Hopping Hadrian's Wall

Tag: Luke 18:1-8

Living Prayer

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