October 16, 2016

Cate Thorn

Ordinary 29     Jeremiah 31:27-34     Luke 18:1-8

Video available on YouTube, Facebook

There’s this judge who feared neither God nor had respect for people, that’s what we’re told in the lead in to this parable tale today. Sounds like a member of one of today’s tribes, the one often declaimed by us of a generationally other tribe – the It’s All About Me Tribe. The judge isn’t necessarily doing anything wrong, it’s just as if he doesn’t really care, can’t be bothered with the woes of others, especially annoying females who pester. The only thing that causes him to act is to silence her annoying persistence. The only reason he grants her the justice she seeks is to make the problem she is to him go away. It is not until this moment, not until the judge grants the widow justice that he is named unjust. What is that about?

That the label unjust comes at the moment he grants justice might suggest the judge did actually know what justice looked like, even as he chose to ignore it. The context into which Jesus taught was Jewish so we might assume this judge is part of the Israelite community. The covenant community of Jeremiah where knowledge of how to live rightly and justly one with another is written on heart, embedded in the knowing of each member. This judge knows what justice looks like. The judge feared neither God nor respected people – there’s nothing to fear or need to respect people when you don’t make yourself vulnerable to relationship – justice, injustice – they’re a theoretical irrelevance when there’s no cost to your own hide. However, whether he wanted to or not the widow’s constant pleading forced the judge to relate to her, to form relationship, even if briefly, he was changed enough to act for someone else.

As you know the gospel has integrity within the context in which it’s spoken, it’s a parable of encouragement for the times to come, when Jesus will no longer be with the disciples. The parable promises that prayer works, if the disciples pray always and do not lose heart, like the pestering widow to the judge, what they pray for will be granted. I want to examine this a bit more closely.

The judge/unjust judge is likened to God, God who will grant justice to God’s chosen ones who cry to God day and night. Remember, the judge feared neither God nor had respect for people, a figure removed from engagement, from relationship, who judged, perhaps impartially, it would seem impassively. Might this speak of God? In Matthew when the disciples are taught they must love their enemies, pray for those who persecute them that they may be children of God, God who “makes the sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Creation comes, is coming into being through, by divine, Godly impetus and grace. Evil or good, righteous or unrighteous, these are things we are granted freedom to enact, to be or become.

How might we understand prayer and justice granted then? The widow brings before the judge her case for justice, she names that which is unjust and seeks justice be granted. We in this place and in other places name before God that which is unjust, we know what injustice looks like, we imagine, desire, pray for justice. Naming injustice, as the widow did, unmasks that it is indeed present amongst us. Naming it makes it inescapably real. Having made injustice known, who do you think will grant justice? If we who fear God and respect people know what justice is who, other than us will enact it? God? God made flesh? We who make God flesh now?

As we consider the landscape of our city, our country the people scape as well, how many of you are a little uncomfortable with the way things are? We don’t have to look far to see there’s an inequitable sharing of resources, and to see the effect this has. We don’t need OECD reports to know the gap between rich and poor is wider than ever, that NZ is right up there with the worst statistics for child poverty. We know we participate in an economic system where those who have, get more, and those who have not, get less or nothing and bear brunt of societal scorn. This is not anything new, even as it is shamefully worse than ever, it’s the way things are, we belong to a society that chooses a system that works out this way. It’s the system that prevails in the first world, of which we are a part, but is it a just system? Does it prioritise and value life and it’s flourishing, does it ensure a distribution of its sufficient resources so that each has enough for their need? If we name this system unjust, act in defiance of it, for justice to prevail, to be granted, especially if we invoke faith anywhere in the conversation will we be scorned as naive fools, not credible for even suggesting such a thing?

And yet, if we do not, if we see injustice and do nothing, if there’s no concrete consequence, no outworking in real time of that which we call faith, what is faith? Simply something to provide us with relief, assuage our conscience, justify our continued participation in the unjust systems that prevail? How will we respond to the gospel query “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Let me share with you Peter Rollins parable ‘Finding Faith’ from his book ‘The Orthodox Heretic.’ “There was once a fiery preacher who possessed a powerful but unusual gift. He found that, from an early age, when he prayed for individuals, they would supernaturally lose all of their religious convictions. They would invariably lose all of their beliefs about the prophets, the sacred Scriptures, and even God. So the preacher learned not to pray for people but instead he limited himself to preaching inspiring sermons and doing good works. However, one day while travelling across the country, the preacher found himself in a conversation with a businessman who happened to be going in the same direction. The businessman was a very powerful and ruthless merchant banker, who was honored by his colleagues and respected by his adversaries. Their conversation began because the businessman, possessing a deep, abiding faith, had noticed the preacher reading from the Bible. He introduced himself to the preacher and they began to talk. As they chatted together this powerful man told the preacher all about his faith in God and his love of Christ. He spoke of how his work did not really define who he was but was simply what he had to do.

“The world of business is a cold one,” he confided to the preacher, “And in my line of work I find myself in situations that challenge my Christian convictions. But I try, as much as possible, to remain true to my faith. Indeed, I attend a local church every Sunday, participate in a prayer circle, engage in some youth work and contribute to a weekly Bible study. These activities help to remind me of who I really am.’

After listening carefully to the businessman’s story, the preacher began to realize the purpose of his unseemly gift. So he turned to the businessman and said, ‘Would you allow me to pray a blessing onto your life?’

The businessman readily agreed, unaware of what would happen. Sure enough, after the preacher had muttered a simple prayer, the man opened his eyes in astonishment. ‘What a fool I have been for all these years!’ he proclaimed. ‘It is clear to me now that there is no God above, who is looking out for me, and that there are no sacred texts to guide me, and there is no Spirit to inspire and protect me.’

As they parted company the businessman, still confused by what had taken place, returned home. But now that he no longer had any religious beliefs, he began to find it increasingly difficult to continue in his line of work. Faced with the fact that he was now just a hard-nosed businessman working in a corrupt system, rather than a man of God, he began to despise his work. Within months he had a breakdown, and soon afterward he gave up his line of work completely.

Feeling better about himself, he then went on to give to the poor all of the riches he had accumulated and he began to use his considerable managerial expertise to challenge the very system he once participated in, and to help those who had been oppressed by the system.

One day, many years later, he happened upon the preacher again while walking through town. He ran over, fell at the preacher’s feet, and began to weep with joy.

Eventually he looked up at the preacher and smiled, ‘thank you, my dear friend, for helping me to discover my faith.’” [1]

Will faith be found? Faith that does differently, faith that reveals/names injustice and acts so justice is granted. Systems of injustice will not cede power gracefully, there will be a cost. We are formed by these systems, they are in us. For the system to change we have to relinquish something of who we are, we have to change, we cannot remain the same and expect change. We may not know ourselves for we will not be as we have been, the world, the society familiar to us will not be the same, not be as it is.

Do we actually want this? Will faith be found?

[1] Peter Rollins, The Orthodox Heretic: and other impossible tales (Massachusetts: Paraclete Press, 2015), 57-60.