"We Have Only Done What We Ought to Have Done"

Luke 17:5-10

I offered this image of my dad in a sermon more than twenty years ago now. It was a precious memory of me at the age of five and him carrying me gently in his arms when I was sick. I cannot now remember the particular text this recollection spoke to then. But I do remember him learning that I had spoken of this. I remember the befuddled look on his face. And I well remember his words,

"But Janet. That's just what a Dad does."

And of course he was right. In a perfect world --- and it is so that my childhood was a sheltered and good one --- that is just what dads do. Such tender care is simply a reflection of who they are. And at the time and also those many years later, to him, recognition or thanks were entirely unnecessary.

It seems to me it is precisely this sort of core identity that Jesus speaks of today when he uses a slave as an example of what it is to do what one does because that is who one is.

Now it is so that from my vantage point today, I rather wish Jesus had chosen another way to make his point. Indeed, I well remember sitting in a class a few years ago. I had chosen to write a a paper about the Philippians hymn where Paul speaks of taking the 'form of a slave (or a servant) even as Jesus did.' (Philippians 1:27-2:11) It was, in fact, the first time I would have the opportunity to learn among others whose racial identity was different from my own. There were, in fact, some in the room whose ancestors had been slaves. As you might expect, they heard Paul's words entirely different than I did. I offer this now as a sort of corrective to receiving these words glibly. Indeed, in the days to come I hope to check in with a colleague who, no doubt, will instinctively hear Jesus here in Luke's Gospel in an entirely different way than I ever can or will. Perhaps you might consider doing the same.

And yet, for all my wishing it different, I get Jesus' point. He is using a social construct of his time and it would have rung true in the ears of his first listeners. It was expected that people who held certain stations did certain things because of 'who' they were. It was a mark of their identity. And as a result, thanks were entirely unnecessary.

And so what is the point for us today? Is it, do you think, that you and I are also to behave as slaves to this world and to do so because this is simply who we are? And if that is the case, what exactly might that look like? In the words offered in today's Gospel, we are not told. And yet, Jesus has been giving content to this for months by now as Luke has told the story:

• Indeed, might being who we are as followers of Jesus look like loving one's enemies doing good to those who hate us/ blessing those who curse us, praying for those who abuse us? (Luke 6:27-28)

• Might it mean being merciful and showing forgiveness? (Luke 6:36-37)

• Might it mean being agents of healing and life? (Luke 7:1-17)

• Might it look like indiscriminately scattering seed (you fill in the blank as to what that seed might grow) and letting our light shine in all ways on all days? (Luke 7:1-18)

• Might it mean being sent out with a word of peace like lambs in the midst of wolves? (Luke 10:1-12)

• Might it look like living like the Samaritan? (Luke 10:25-37)

• And oh, might this mean picking up one's cross as Jesus did? (Luke 14:25-33)

Again and again, Jesus paints pictures of things which behave as what they are. He speaks of things not human like salt (Luke 14:34) and fig trees (Luke 6:43-45)  and yeast (Luke 13:20-21) which simply do what they do because of what they are and today he offers us an example using human beings who we are somehow to emulate. As Jesus did. Even as Jesus did.

I don't know that I will ever get to the point where like my dad in his role as "Dad," I am genuinely surprised to even be thanked for being and behaving as who I am as a follower of Jesus. But that certainly is Jesus' call today.

And yet, even knowing I am not, we are not, there yet, still I yearn for the day when all of us followers of Jesus more and more simply live like that is who we are, "doing only what we ought to have done." Don't you?

• How do you find yourself thinking about the social construct of slavery which Jesus uses as an  illustration today? How will that "preach" in your context? (Who might you talk with who might hear it differently than you do?) Is there a way to redeem it? 
• I have offered some examples of 'content' from Luke's Gospel in terms of what it means for us to 'do what we ought to have done.' What would you add?
• Paul's words in Philippians 1:27-2:11 offers an image of what it is to live as a slave as Jesus did. Although not one of our readings this week, it does help me to think more deeply about it. Is it helpful to you? Why or why not?

On Faith, Mulberry Trees, and Forgiveness

Luke 17:5-10

It's no small thing, it seems to me, to be able to uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea: particularly in the way that Jesus describes today --- with no effort at all.  I know this for while there is no mulberry tree in my back yard there are these things which try to pass as trees lining my fence line which probably started out looking like weeds but whose roots have gone deep by now. There is no way I can uproot them so season after season I find myself cutting them off close to the ground.    And yet, Jesus seems to be saying that it wouldn't take much for me to be able to set aside my trusty lobbers.  Only a little faith is required.

And yet I found myself wondering this week about why anyone would want to waste that gift of faith on uprooting a tree.  It seems that if I were given the power to do that, such unexpected power might be put to better use. (To be sure, I do feel differently after a morning of pulling overgrown weeds and cutting back brush...) And so I got curious as to why the disciples were so vehemently begging Jesus to increase their faith.  And I went back a verse or two and discovered that just prior to the disciples' outburst Jesus had been teaching about forgiveness.  What Jesus says there is this:

"⁴And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, “I repent”, you must forgive.’"

Seriously.  Now that is something I do need help doing.  That may, in fact, be something worth using up that "faith the size of a mustard seed" on.  And yes, forgiving can seem a whole lot like pulling up a stubborn tree, roots and all, and tossing it into the sea.  It can be that hard.  Which is why, I expect, when the disciples hear Jesus' command to forgive the same person seven times over in a given day, they find themselves begging for help.

Because as you well know, forgiveness can be difficult.  For all the gifts it promises, it is no small thing to let go, to move on, to work at restoration, to begin again.  Forgiving can feel like giving in, like giving up, like forfeiting principle or pride.  Forgiving can mean admitting I, too, was wrong.  And if I'm honest?  I haven't done nearly enough of it.  No, my usual means of living and being is to step away from the one who I perceived wronged me.  All too often I find that if I do not distance myself altogether, I at least build up my defenses enough so as to ensure I won't be hurt again.  Maybe that's why the story I offer now stands out so clearly in my memory.

It was sixteen years ago this past summer.  I had traveled to Philadelphia as a voting member to our Churchwide Assembly.  It was my first such experience where I would not be seated in the visitor section and I was excited to go.  I can remember rising early in the morning all summer long, reading the reams of paper which outlined the business which was before us.  I can remember also looking forward to the fact that I would be rooming with a wonderful friend from seminary --- one whom I had known since day one of Summer Greek.  She and I had been assigned to different regions of the country so we had not seen each other much since graduation and ordination nine years before, but we had kept in touch and hers was a friendship I valued.

On the agenda for that particular assembly was a major ecumenical agreement.  Sitting in the assembly hall on that first night I can remember sensing that something major was afoot when right at the beginning there was debate on the rules of the assembly.  Indeed, if we didn't know it it already, (and apparently even with all my careful preparation, I was one of those caught by surprise), it soon became evident that this assembly was going to hold some drama.  And my old friend and I found ourselves on opposite sides of the question.

Most of that week we didn't see much of each other as we when we weren't in session I expect we were connecting with those who agreed with our differing perspectives.  I know I was.  When the agreement failed to garner its needed 2/3 vote, I was surprised to find myself heartbroken.  My friend and found ourselves together again for a few moments back in our hotel room hurriedly packing up before our trips to the airport.  I am not proud to say that in those moments, exhausted and grieving, I said some things I shouldn't have.  I remember the look of shock and surprise and pain on my friend's face like it was yesterday.

It seems silly now --- to have a friendship put in jeopardy by such as that was -- but at the time?  It didn't seem silly at all.   And it was easy to ignore the rift between us in the months and years to come as, unlike the example Jesus offers now, we were not working and living in the same place.  Still, my heart hurt over it, until finally, one or the other of us sent an email, cracking the door open just a little bit.

It was sometime after that when we were together again that we were both able to admit the other was more right than we could or would before. Indeed, I expect our mutual forgiving found its beginning in our belief that our friendship mattered more. 

It didn't take much.  Not much more than a mustard seed size step in fact and in the end it was easier than uprooting a mulberry tree and tossing it into the sea.  And of so much more value.  We were able to do so because our care for each other was somehow larger and more important than what had severed our friendship for a time.  Sometimes forgiveness happens because of that.   And sometimes forgiveness is offered and shared because that is what we are simply made to do, as Jesus tells his disciples and all of us today.  We do it because we are supposed to do it.  We forgive because we have been forgiven and we who are made to be in relationship with each other --- if we have any hope of staying in relationship with each other --- we must do the same.  Like the slaves who are just doing what they are supposed to do when they serve their master supper, you and I are only doing what "we ought to have done" when we crack the door open and begin to make amends with one another.  And just like with my old friend?  What is behind Jesus' promise today is the certain truth that the relationships we share with one another matter more than whatever would keep us apart.

And it only takes a little faith to get us there.  Sometimes all we have to do is crack open the door.

• As I think about the disciple's plea today for help with forgiving I find myself thinking of those with whom I have experienced brokenness and have opted for distance instead of healing.  How about you?  What does it mean for us to 'do what we ought to have done' as Jesus says today?
• Why do you think Jesus says it only takes 'faith the size of a mustard seed' for this to be so?  What does that mean in practical terms?