The Feast of St. Luke: Sirach 38:1-4,6-10,12-14; Psalm 147:1-7; 2 Timothy 4:5-13; Luke 4:14-21
Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Luke, which is known in The Episcopal Church as our “patronal feast” or our “Feast of Title” since we bear St. Luke’s name in ours. (As I wrote in the Friday email the Episcopal Church does not designate a specific day to celebrate “Christ” which is the other half of our parish’s title, but I would argue that every Sunday is feast of Jesus Christ, and therefore we are sufficiently covered.) Like any feast day, today’s service is a celebration! But it’s also an opportunity for us to reflect on the life of a particularly faithful individual and see what they might have to teach us as we seek to live faithful lives of our own. And St. Luke gives us much to ponder.
If you found yourself sitting there during our Old Testament lesson wondering, “Who on earth is Habakkuk?” you probably weren’t alone. Habakkuk’s contribution to sacred scripture covers just a few pages, and all we know about him is that he was a Prophet, and may have worked at the Temple in Jerusalem. We have a much better sense of the time in which he was writing though. From the contents of the book that bears his name we can tell he is writing just before the conquering of Jerusalem by the Babylonian Empire which is rising up in the east while the people of Judah, his homeland, are disintegrating from within by fighting among themselves and neglecting the Law of God. “Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble?” Habakkuk says to God about his people. “Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous–therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” All this means he is probably writing around the year 600 BC. Remember it was in 586 that Jerusalem was eventually destroyed by the Babylonians, and to hear Habakkuk tell it, it seems kind of like their own fault. As he observes the state of things and talks it over with God, he’s worried about his beloved homeland, his beloved people, his beloved faith because, thanks to rot from within, the future looks grim.
Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea, day by day his clear voice soundeth, saying Christian follow me.
Cecil Frances Alexander was born in Ireland in 1818. By the age of 9 she had started writing poetry and hymns. By the age of 20 she had already published three books of verse, the most famous being Hymns for Little Children, which established her as a poet of some renown. Her hymns texts were soon included in hymnals across the United Kingdom and we have her to thank for the lyrics to such all-time favorites as: Once in Royal David’s city; All things bright and beautiful; There is a green hill far away; He is risen, he is Risen!; the translation of St. Patrick’s breastplate, and today’s opening hymn, Jesus calls us o’er the tumult. Her language is simple, but in the sense of being uncomplicated and concise, not dull or easy. Her imagery is memorable, with turns of phrase that fall easily on the tongue and stay close to the heart. They are sincere without being saccharine, snappy without being sappy. The power of her verse stemmed from her own strong Christian convictions which were legendary. When she writes of Jesus’s clear call, coming to us day by day o’er the tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea, that was a call she knew personally and answered. Of particular note, was the way in which Alexander’s Christian faith shaped the way she used her money. Alexander lived a financially comfortable life, but what she had she shared generously, giving of herself and her resources to help others. She used all the money she made from her early publications to start a school for the deaf and mute outside Derry in the hill country of Northern Ireland. She helped fund a house for “fallen women.” She established a district nurse’s service.[1] And she was known to travel many miles each day to visit the sick and the poor, bringing food, warm clothes, and medical supplies at her own expense.[2] And all because she firmly believed that was what Jesus would have his disciples do. As she writes in verse three: Jesus calls us from the worship of the vain world’s golden store, from each idol that would keep us, saying “Christian, love me more.”
In my experience the idea that the use of one’s money falls under the purview of their Christian faith can come as a surprise to some people. Somehow along the way many have been given the idea that Jesus lays claim to all aspects of our life except our finances. Nothing could be further from the truth. After the Kingdom of God, money was one of Jesus’ top topics. He made clear that how we use it is an essential component of Christian discipleship. That’s true whether we have a lot or a little or somewhere in between. Because too often, rather than being an aide to our life of faith, our relationship with money is a hindrance, an obstacle, a “stumbling block” to God and the building up of God’s Kingdom. And it has long been so.
Even before Jesus, the use and abuse of money and lending and debt was a problematic issue for the people of Israel. Despite laws encouraging generosity and forgiveness of debt, as well as the prohibition of usury (lending money at interest), money was still a catalyst for the worst of human behavior: greed, selfishness, manipulation, oppression, even violence. That’s what the prophet Amos is bemoaning in our first lesson today, those who unconscionably “trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land;” who are just counting the days till they can get selling again, disregarding God’s laws in the name of another profit-making opportunity. The people he’s talking about practice deceit with false balances all in the name of making a shekel. Needless to say, Amos does not think this is pleasing to God. When it comes to our pursuit of money, it’s distressing how quickly some people’s ethical standards slip away. We easily start to idolize it, treating something very earthly as heavenly; ascribing it ultimate value, when it is a penultimate thing. When you combine that with what I called a couple of weeks ago our “original sin of self-centeredness,” money can become an end in itself, where the chief purpose is not to use it but just to amass it, to get more, and more, and more all for ourselves. And thus, we get very possessive of it—”This is MINE. All mine.” And we are loathe to give or share any of it.
When treated this way, money becomes a catalyst for disconnection, exacerbating divisions between people rather than healing them. Which is why it was such an important topic for Jesus to address as he goes around preaching a Kingdom of mutuality and blessing. But he was clear, there is always the possibility for us to use our money as an instrument of goodness not greed, a catalyst for connection not disconnection, a means of opportunity and uplift in other people’s lives not just our own. This is what I understand to be his point in the parable of the dishonest manager which we heard this morning. Here is a guy, who is squandering away someone else’s money. And he is about to be called to account for his dishonest ways. But in the moment of crisis, he realizes that rather than using that money to his own benefit, he could use it to establish positive relationships with his master’s debtors by cutting their bills. Now, was this entirely honest—no, but that’s not the point. The real point is he discovered that a generous use of money could create connection and affection between people and that connection would be what he had to fall back on when the money was all gone. And he is commended for such an act. For as Jesus tries to explain to his disciples, it is inevitable that you are going to have to deal with money at some point. Even as “children of light” it’s unrealistic to think you can remain so pure as disavow the stuff completely. So, you might as well use it well, shrewdly, wisely, rightly, in service of making friends, establishing relationships, and helping others out. Because when the money is all gone—and some day it will be—what remains are those connections and the goodness it has created. Money is meant to be used as a tool to build up, not break apart. Some people, like Cecil Frances Alexander, and many of you I know, understand this and practice it. Many others do not. And so, the world continues to have its divisions exacerbated and its problems compounded rather than solved by the role that money plays in our souls and our society.
That is why Jesus lays it out so plainly for us after the parable: if you are going to be a disciple, if you are going to be someone who tries to follow Jesus in the building up the Kingdom of God, you cannot serve God and wealth. One of those two masters will end up being more important than the other. The question is then, not how much money do we have, but are we treating it as more, or less important than God? In other words, are we being faithful in our approach to it? Faithful in the sense of trustworthy and truthful, yes, but faithful in the original sense of the word: from a belief in God. To be able to properly place our relationship with money under our relationship with God creates a healthier detachment from it in our hearts and helps prevent against us idolizing it. It inspires a spirit of gratitude for that which we have a received, and a desire to share that gift with others. Properly positioned, money no longer serves as a stumbling block to the building up of the Kingdom of God but can become its very foundation. That which is temporal, and temporary starts to create something that shall endure. Because it doesn’t matter how much money you have, it is an earthly thing and it shall pass away. But if we use it for the building of relationships, the creation of opportunities, the lifting up of others, and the spreading of goodness money starts to bring something heavenly, something that will last, something eternal into being. That’s what it means to be faithful even with our finances.
When Cecil Frances Alexander died, her family was shocked by the outpouring of affection that was shown to her. Her biographer writes that they received a “Niagara Falls” of letters and notes of condolence. She was mourned by the city’s poor and well to do, Catholics and Protestants alike (which was no small thing in Northern Ireland). All the local newspapers, even The Times of London reported on her death. And her funeral sounds like it was almost on the order of what many of us will see tomorrow for the Queen, with a procession through the city and something like 92 clergy attending. The streets were mobbed with a mass of ordinary people showing their affection and paying their respect. Blinds were drawn, shops were closed all in honor of this generous, faithful woman.[3] You don’t do that for someone just because you liked her hymns, great though they are. You do that because she touched your life. Here was a testament to the power of that which shall endure: the friendships she formed, the lives she changed, the people she helped. That was the legacy that made her so beloved; a legacy grounded in her love of Jesus Christ, which led her to give all that she could for the building up and betterment of individuals and institutions. Here was a woman who brought the Kingdom of God a little closer into being because she believed what she wrote and practiced what she penned:
Jesus calls us! By thy mercies, Savior, may we hear thy call, give our hearts to thine obedience, serve and love thee best of all.
