Luke 18:1-8
Presented October 21st, 2007, by J.D. Kline
The 21st Sunday after Pentecost
Stewardship Theme: Celebrate Abundance—Nourish Life
It’s a peculiar story, this parable of the unjust judge. Luke suggests that Jesus tells the story, that we might “pray always and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1). It is this notion of not losing heart that caught my eye—and my imagination—when I began to consider the text. For who among us, seeking to live faithfully as followers of Jesus by walking in his footsteps, does not find ourselves tempted at times to lose heart? In a world seemingly hell-bent on warfare and destruction, how do we find the stamina to keep on keeping on—working for peace, caring for the environment, raising our voices for justice and with compassion, correcting oppression? In a world constantly urging us to live independently, as if we have no need for God or one another, how do we remain persistent in the life of spirituality—seeking to live lives of connectedness? In a world in which we are frequently confronted by events and experiences that make little sense to us—the death of someone close to us, the destruction that flows from a natural disaster, the tragedy of ongoing reliance upon violence and warfare, the grief of life gone awry—in the midst of all of this, what keeps us from losing heart? What keeps us moving forward in life and faith? What nourishes our souls?
Consider the parable, which flows on the heels of a series of teachings in which Jesus is preparing the disciples for the coming of God’s kingdom. In reality, Jesus is talking about how we remain constant in praying the prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, here and now on earth, even as it is in heaven.” We who yearn for the coming of that day when justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream—how do we remain constant in faith when justice, righteousness and peace appear to be so far from us?
Jesus speaks of a widow who seeks justice before an unjust judge. We don’t know the details of the widow’s plight, but in that day a widow’s position was precarious. Under Jewish law she could not inherit her dead husband’s estate, which instead went straight to her sons or brothers-in-law. A widow, however, was allowed to live off of the estate, unless her family pushes her away. The fact that the widow appears before the judge alone would suggest this to be her situation.
All we know about the judge is that he is unscrupulous, neither honoring God nor respecting people, so it’s not surprising that he little cares for the widow’s impassioned plea, “Grant me justice against my opponent.” But as the woman persists, the judge reasons with himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she does not wear me out by continually coming” (18:4-5). In the original Greek language, the judge uses a boxing term to describe the woman’s persistence. “Because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out with continued blows under the eye.” Suggests Episcopal preacher Barbara Brown Taylor, the judge’s “motivation in responding to her is not equity but conceit. He does not want to have to walk around town with a black eye and have to make up stories about how he got it.”
After telling the story, Jesus questions, “And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to God day and night?” (18:7). And that’s the disturbing part of the story, is it not? Is Jesus asserting that we must persist in bothering God—in fact, that we must badger God, before God will listen to us and respond to our cries? Or is it instead that Jesus tells the story to urge us to persist in living faithfully? Does not the parable center on a call to “hang in there?” Is it not a challenge to hold fast to our faith, even in times of uncertainty, difficulty, struggle, and grief? Does not the parable urge us to trust that ours is a God who honors our desire to live faithfully—to do justice, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly in God’s presence?
In truth, the parable is more about us than it is about God, and that’s why the parable ends with Jesus asking, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (18:8). Will you and I embrace the courage and strength, the wisdom and stamina, to hold fast to our faith, to remain committed to God’s unfolding kingdom of justice, righteousness, and peace, even when those qualities of life appear so elusive? Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that most people, in Jesus’ day and in our own, pray much like we brush our teeth—once in the morning and once at night, as part of a spiritual hygiene program. Indeed, we are always looking for a new technique, the latest gimmick, to make our lives more fulfilling, while Jesus suggests that gimmicks and techniques will never satisfy. If any want to become my followers, says Jesus, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me (Luke 9:23). We are tempted to reduce faith to a matter of easy answers; Jesus instead prods us to adopt a new way of living, to put on a new way of seeing and experiencing life, to embrace a new strength and courage and dogged persistence like that which was displayed by the widow before the unjust judge.
What the persistent widow knows, and what we need to grasp, is that the most critical time to pray is precisely at those times when our prayers seem meaningless, when life seems to be going nowhere, when we wonder—deep in our souls—if there will ever be any justice in life. Those times when life seems to be collapsing around us, those times when we experience grief and loss so raw that we wonder if we can carry on, those times when justice appears elusive and peace little more than an idle pipe dream. The noted playwright Arthur Miller, famed especially for the play Death of a Salesman, once said, “Maybe all one can do is to hope to end up with the right regrets.” The right regrets—knowing that we have spent our energy praying and working for peace, even when peace seems a distant dream; knowing that we have yearned and prayed and worked for the coming of that day when nations no longer opt for the ways of war, when domestic violence no longer remains a hidden epidemic in our midst, when the gap between the rich and the poor does not continue to grow wider. Knowing that we have yearned and prayed and worked for that day when all humanity is held as sacred and all creation treated as a gift from God to be used gently and with great care. Our regret? Simply that there is yet much to do, that God’s kingdom is not yet fully unfolded among us.
Victor Frankl, noted psychiatrist and survivor of the Holocaust, wrote of his experiences in concentration camps, that “everything precious including our dignity can be taken from us but the one thing that cannot be taken away is our power to choose what attitude we will take toward the events that have happened.” Just so, even in the face of our own times of intense difficulty, struggle, loss, and pain—those times when we are tempted to cry out, Why bother?—even at those times we can continue to be people whose passion it is to live and proclaim Christ’s way of mercy and compassion and grace. We can continue to take it as our goal to be people of faith and of hope, those whose life pursuit is for the things that make for justice and peace. We can continue to be people of prayer, people who yearn for God’s unfolding kingdom to come here and now on earth, even as it is in heaven. Writes Barbara Brown Taylor of this prayer, “It keeps our hearts chasing after God’s heart. It’s how we bother God, and it’s how God bothers us back.”
This morning we invite you to experience a time of anointing. In Church of the Brethren tradition anointing most frequently was performed privately, a time of seeking to place one’s life fully in the hands of God, a service of trust and faith in God’s healing presence. More recently, we have come to see that anointing, while still an intensely personal encounter, need not be private. And anointing may be for physical healing, but much more. As you are anointed this morning, it will be for three things: for courage to live faithfully as Christ’s peacemakers and servants; for grace to nourish life around you; and for wisdom and strength as you continue the journey of faith.