The Rev Carol Wedell
January 24, 2010

For how many of you was that a familiar passage?  I do wonder how many of us really heard it.  (re-read)  Methodist Bishop William Willimon suggests that "proximity to and familiarity with the... texts is a privilege that also blinds, dulls, impedes."

He also tells the story of a conversation following a sermon he preached on Matthew's parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard. A woman, "unchurched," was deeply troubled by the implications of the parable. "I don't think it's fair. I believe that people ought to be paid fairly for the work they do..." Willimon reflects on the unsatisfying reality that "he just preached a sermon on a perfectly outrageous story and she was the only one that ‘got it.'" As fifteen hundred people walked out, unfazed, "nice sermon, preacher," she was disturbed. Our own familiarity with Jesus often breeds ignorance, or at least unconscious apathy! This woman, hearing it for the first time, was daunted.

Do we hear the radical agenda in today's gospel reading?

I suspect that, like me, images of Haiti and of our sisters and brothers in that nation have filled your mind and your prayers this past week. The massive scale of destruction, the loss of life, and the broad sweep of pain that devastated this tiny and poorest of nations in the western hemisphere is beyond description. According to Haitian Prime Minister, a final death count of 100,000 would "seem to be the minimum."   So a city the size of Mentor has just disappeared. If some 300,000 people have lost their homes, then that figure is over half the people of Cleveland.  The numbers are staggering, the human stories even worse.

Our hearts groan at the immensity of the reality. Pictures come up on my computer, so that the reality is never far away from mind.  The problem of getting basic aid to the survivors is daunting; the long term needs for stabilizing and redeveloping the nation seem beyond conception. The sheer logistics of the situation are terrifying, and the threat of compassion fatigue is very real. In light of this reality, what is a disciple of Christ to do? We begin in prayer, we continue in prayer, and then we move with and beyond our prayers. We have faith that God is in the midst of this tragedy, working to bring relief and even good from this horror.

Much good is happening, and small miracles offer rays of hope. Yesterday, eleven days after the earthquake a survivor was found.  Loved ones are reunited, a church group from Pennsylvania makes it to the orphanage they sponsor and find much for which to be thankful. Donations are pouring in, pointing out the power of social media and technology in helping to elicit a quick response. A local teenager empties her savings account to help people she doesn't know and will never see. There are many stories that offer hope and encouragement, that show the face and hands and the heart and feet of Christ at work in the midst of the brokenness.

This week's gospel text offers a place to begin thinking about the "what next" aspect of mission and ministry in this time of great pain and suffering.  Jesus announces to the congregation gathered in the synagogue that Isaiah's prophecy has been fulfilled in their hearing of these words-proclaimed by, of course, none other than the messiah himself.

Professor Barbara Lundblad imagines what it might look like today, as Jesus reads from the scroll: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

"Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Jesus is setting forth his agenda borrowing words from the prophet Isaiah. The Spirit has anointed him from the beginning for this mission, even as the Spirit descended on him in baptism and then led him in the wilderness. But what has Jesus been anointed to do? In Isaiah's words, it becomes clear: Bring good news to the poor. Proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind. Let the oppressed go free and proclaim God's jubilee year-when ...debts are cancelled and land is returned.

These are earth-shaking words, life-changing words. It's no wonder that (we) have trouble hearing what he had to say.  (We have) to reframe Jesus' words into something a bit more personal and a lot less literal. He didn't really mean captives, like people in prison. Surely, Jesus wouldn't tell us to open the prison doors and let everyone inside go free. Jesus must have meant our captivity to spiritual temptations that harm the soul for eternity. It's strange what we do with the words of the Bible. We insist on the literal meaning of things we agree with but when we come to something that's too hard or too threatening, we look for a meaning behind the words or above the words or beyond the words.

In the world of Luke, the promise of good news to the poor meant the coming of a world of abundance for all and, obviously, an end to poverty. The mission is to bring good news to the poor, etc. The promise is that in the very act of doing these things, Jesus' followers will experience the presence of the Spirit and will find them coming true in the life of the church.

And Jesus' agenda definitely asks something of us. It calls us out of complicity with the status quo that does nothing to build-up the reign of God. It is meant to stir us up.  What is Jesus' agenda? It's to go down where people are in pain. It's to preach the good news and do the good news-make it real-for the poor, the sick, the hurting, the brokenhearted, the captive, the oppressed, the sinful, the outcast. Who is on Jesus' agenda? People in pain.

Jesus was deliberate and determined to maintain that agenda, but it wasn't without struggle. Jesus isn't the only one who has had to wrestle with the devil to keep from getting sidetracked from this agenda. Sidetracking can happen easily. "This is my agenda," says the Lord. "Break the chains of injustice! Get rid of exploitation in the workplace! Free the oppressed! Cancel debts! Share your food with the hungry! Invite the homeless poor into your homes! Put clothes on those that are ill clad! Be available to your own families!"

In other words, life is not just about you! Religion is not just about your needs. It's not just about your personal salvation. Jesus is clear:  my agenda is your agenda!

Drifting from that agenda can happen so subtly, imperceptibly. It happened in Jesus' day. Many good people were busy enjoying God's blessings, believing they were entitled to those blessings. They refused to believe that God might plan to bless the Gentiles, too. "It's about me; it's about us. We're the favored ones." They enjoyed their status, and often thought that people in a bad way must have done something to deserve it.

"No, it's not just about you," declared Jesus. It's about the poor and the downtrodden, the sick and the sinful. The good news is for them. That's the agenda.

And Jesus stuck to that agenda, though he was criticized right and left for it. He went where the pain was, touching the outcast. The life of faith is not just about you, not just about  me! It's not about lifting yourself, securing yourself, living for yourself. It's about lifting others, healing others, helping others, loving others. Jesus' agenda is our agenda. The agenda of Jesus was passed on to his followers. The good news is not just fulfilled in our hearing. The good news is fulfilled in our doing.

The Presbyterian Book of Order (of all places!) takes this to heart. Quoting today's reading, "The Church proclaims the good news by going into all the world and making disciples; and by loving one another, sharing in worship fellowship, nurture, prayer, and service; and by participating in God's activity in the world through its life for others.

How? By healing and reconciling and binding up wounds, says our Book of Order. By ministering to the needs of the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the powerless. By engaging in the struggle to free people from sin, fear, oppression, hunger and injustice. By giving itself and its substance to the service of those who suffer, and by sharing with Christ in the establishing of his just, peaceable and loving rule in the world.

The Church, the Book adds, is called to undertake this mission even at the risk of losing its life.

Christ's agenda is clear, but also hard to stick to. If the sheer volume of the needs doesn't discourage the church, the necessities and demands of living are enough to start moving the focus away from serving others to serving the self. It is one thing to talk about sharing good news with the poor at some time in the future - after the economy has stabilized and the stock market has rebounded. It's another thing to say, "Let's move into this new place now." It's one thing to talk about a homecoming for all of those who have been in exile, but when those captives start streaming home, how will we shelter and feed them and who will give them jobs? Recovery of sight to the blind sounds an awful lot like universal health care, and we know what a problem that can pose!

Of course Christians need to see to our own physical and spiritual maintenance, as individuals, families and as congregations. Of course we need the Lord to care for us and heal us, too. Of course we want to survive here as a congregation and be a vibrant spiritual community.

But unless churches regularly return to Jesus and lay our agendas next to his for comparison, next thing you know we're focusing on what keeps us keeps us insiders satisfied and comfortable. We start thinking that numbers and account balances are the measure of how we're doing as a church.

Certainly the church has to ask practical questions - just as the Session worked on the budget at its last meeting. They are legitimate questions for those of us in the church to keep raising and struggling to answer. But have you noticed that questions about the church are too often institutional questions? That is, they focus our attention on the existence of an organization. They aren't really questions of faith as much as they are questions about an institution, about its well-being, its survival.

 I've been guilty of thinking that the church is the essence of the whole thing.  I've given so much of my time and energy to the church, I sometimes forget that what really matters is the good news of God's kingdom made explicit in Jesus the Christ, the one who said, "the spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me."

The church does not exist for itself. Whenever we in the church get so caught up in maintaining, preserving, or expanding the church for its own sake, we betray the Christ whom we say we love and serve. This is especially dangerous because many people, even church people, think of religion and the church as a leisure time activity. Religion and church are something you do in your spare time, your personal, private time.

But in Jesus' agenda the emphasis is on action, not on organization. The church is a movement rather than an institution. When the church gathers for worship and for fellowship, the aim is not to make its members feel good but to equip them for putting into visible form the kingdom of God in their daily lives.

The first Christians understood that faith must inform every part of life, not just what they said and did when they enjoyed worship and fellowship with other Christian believers. When we pledge to follow Jesus and his way, we commit ourselves to confronting the great issues of our time: poverty, disease, war, political freedom, racial and ethnic hatreds, the survival of the planet.

At its best, the church helps us recognize that all of life is holy, not just what happens when we gather to worship. In fact, worship should prepare us to carry our faith out into the marketplace, the world of work and commerce and education and family life. Sure it is appropriate to come to Sunday school and worship to have your spirits lifted and strengthened. But not lifted and strengthened for your own sake, but for the sake of the world God so loved that God sent Jesus.

An old story is told about a man who came to a Quaker meeting and was puzzled because everyone was just sitting there in silence. After waiting patiently for a long time for something to happen, he finally whispered to the person sitting next to him: "When does the service begin?" The answer came back: "When we leave."

We have done much. Money and mission trips and food and clothing. We can do more, knowing that ultimately it is God who uses all of our yesterdays, who gives us all our tomorrows and who calls us into the service of the kingdom TODAY.