Sermon

The Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost (Year C, Proper 24)
October 21, 2007

Helen White

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This summer I traveled to Canterbury, England to study with Anglican seminarians from all over the world. One day, we took a six-mile hike through the idyllic countryside. The path was ancient, worn by the tired feet of thousands of praying pilgrims walking towards the Cathedral. As I walked the pilgrim’s way with my fellow Anglicans, the earthly pilgrimage became a living metaphor for the spiritual life. Our Psalm for today, Psalm 121, is known as a song of pilgrimage. The Psalm was written as a liturgy for those journeying to Jerusalem. Like the Psalmist and the many generations who have prayed these words, we, too, are traveling. We can consider Psalm 121 a prayer for our spiritual path. As we pause in the path today, we hear the first lines: “I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where is my help to come?” We envision ourselves with pilgrims of the past, looking up, to the hills, searching for direction, searching for power. Where will we find help? Where will we find God?

Maybe you are standing at a personal crossroad, looking up and calling for help. I know that I am. I will be ordained to the diaconate in February and graduating from seminary in May. My husband and I are searching for the direction for our family, searching for our path. We are trying faithfully to look up and call out, to ask for help. We have many concerns and desires-- for our children, for ourselves, for continuing our life in ordained ministry. And the opening verse of Psalm 121 gives a prayerful response as our anxious eyes search the mountains of the future: “I will lift up my eyes to the hills, from where is my help to come? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” God the creator is our help. God, who continually creates life out of love, including the lives of Michael, Ethan, Jay and Helen, God is our help. Through the prayerful movement of Psalm 121, we are reoriented for the journey. We are focused anew toward the creative and sustaining power of God’s love and we move forward in faith.

St. Mark’s is also standing at a crossroad on our communal pilgrimage. For many years, St. Mark’s has dared to look up and call out, asking for help, searching for God. This community has continually been a place of healing and nourishment for weary and wandering travelers, and I would count myself among that very grateful group. This community has continually sent forth individuals and groups to do the work of Christ in the world. But there is a desire to travel together in a new way in the path of discipleship. To follow Jesus, as a community, into the leper colonies, into the hungry crowds, into the midst of those who might hate us. We turn to today’s Gospel reading from Luke for more sustenance. We join Jesus and his disciples as they move toward Jerusalem, as they move toward the cross. After Jesus relays some terrifying predictions about the Day of Judgment, which seem to make the disciples understandably anxious, he lightens the mood by telling a humorous parable. But, as with all parables, hidden within the story lies a vivid image. This image speaks deeply to the complex dynamics of journeying with Jesus.

A judge who is utterly corrupt and not worried about it in the least sits in his place of power as the supposed dispenser of justice. A widow, who is utterly dependent on that judge to provide her justice, especially because of her vulnerable place in society, is begging for the judge’s help to no avail. But the widow in this parable is not your stereotypical “weakling.” She might be low on the totem pole, but this widow has spunk. I think of a babysitter we had as kids, Ms. Kinsaul. She grew up as the daughter of a lighthouse keeper in Florida, and she was not afraid of anything, especially not a fierce thunderstorm. She was an aging widow when I knew her, but she taught me a lot about facing my fears. Once, a young man tried to grab her purse on the street. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!!!?” And he ran off. Ms. Kinsaul even threw in a few choice words I don’t feel comfortable saying in the pulpit, but you get the picture, she was a fireball! Well, I think the widow in Jesus’ parable is made from the same stuff as Ms. Kinsaul. The widow is at a crossroad, recognizing her right by Jewish law to receive justice but also recognizing her total dependence on this corrupt judge to provide it. She moves forward, persisting with great determination in her demands! In a more literal translation from the Greek, the judge says to himself “It’s true I do not fear God or have any regard for people. But this widow gives me so much trouble that I will give her justice! Otherwise she will keep coming and end up giving me a black eye!” I can just imagine Ms. Kinsaul, with her purse, knocking that judge upside the head!

With this unforgettable image, Jesus gives us honest guidance for our journey. The path will not be easy. We will stand in the unmoving, uncaring face of human injustice. We will feel helpless and insignificant. Yet we are not dependent on the corrupt powers of the world. We, as a community of people who desire to follow Jesus, can be as persistent and as powerful as the widow. Jesus teaches us-- pray always, pray what is on our hearts, pray for justice in the face of injustice, pray to God day and night. And God will help us. This is how we are sustained on our pilgrimage. This is how we reorient ourselves towards something beyond the injustice of this world. This is how we have the courage to follow Jesus, sharing the power of his love in a broken world. And remember, we are not alone in our effort. We have been given this community, St. Mark’s, the Body of Christ, to support one another on the journey. In community, we hear the prayerful cries of the widows of the world and we offer our own prayers with persistence. We step forward together to face the injustice in the world, to follow Jesus as people of faith.

I ask you to think about your life’s journey. Who are your traveling companions? What do you have in your backpack? Where are you going? We are given gifts today from scripture as sustenance for our journey both individually and communally. Psalm 121 compels us to look up and search for direction, to call out for help and hear God’s loving response of steadfast care. The Gospel of Luke reminds us to pray constantly and boldly for God’s justice, knowing that our prayers will sustain us in the challenges of the path. From Psalm 121: “I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” Amen.