God declares everyone righteous and seeks us out to be healed, but what about when we are persuaded righteous to ourselves instead?

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 30 C
Texts: Luke 18:9-14

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In 4th grade, I got detention. 

I had gotten in trouble for splashing paint onto a classmate of mine, which ruined her new white shirt. Most would think that the time that I spent in my classroom quietly contemplating my actions would have been the punishment, but that was the easy part of my day. The hard part was the reaction and the judgment that came from my fellow 9 and 10-year-old classmates. My spot in the front of the classroom had been taken, I was shunned during lunch hour and I was pushed to the back by myself. 

Needless to say, young Mollie never wanted to experience judgment that came from detention ever again. Because judgment creates separation and divides. Pushes away each other when in those times, we are in need of the opposite. 

Which is why the parable leaves me uncomfortable. 

Luke tells us a story, appearing to compare two people, leaving us imagining where to place judgment. Who do we want to be?

The Pharisee in the Gospel doing all the right things. This person is fasting, tithing, and doing their best to live out their faith. The Pharisees are known in the Jewish tradition as people that expanded theology, oral tradition, and engaged in lively discussion. This person is not a “bad guy” despite the way we have become accustomed to hearing the parables in Luke. 

And tax collectors, as we know, were despised in the ancient world because of their direct connection to the Roman Empire. The job of tax collectors was to get a certain sum of money determined by Rome from the communities they were in. Any extra money they collected would be their wage, which would mean the more money collected, the more wealthy one could be. With a history like this, no one could believe such a parable stating that a tax collector would be declared righteous when standing next to a Pharisee. 

But God does. 

God knows that healing can happen when we reach out, because God is already there waiting. Yet, here we are. Stuck in this judgment loop, deciding who we want to be and who to push out. 

You might be thinking, “What if I am the Pharisee? I’m doing the right things–but I don’t want to be judged. I do not want to be separated. Or maybe you feel like you are the tax collector, unworthy, not feeling that you can look to God. 

This is not the first time we have interacted with this dynamic. 

In Luke 15, a conversation between the tax collectors, Pharisees, and Jesus begins with Jesus being told that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.” This is where we hear the parable of The Lost Sons. As we know, the parable ends with the younger son coming back home and his father rejoicing. In doing so, the eldest son becomes angry with his father for the celebration of his brother’s return. What the father says in return, is not judgment or condemnation, but love. 31 “‘My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” Jesus is not interested in judgment and rejection, but in healing, embracing, and celebrating. 

And even earlier in Luke 5, Jesus calls the tax collector, Levi, which the Pharisees question and Jesus answers, 31 “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick; 32 I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

This same theme is happening in our parable today with our Pharisees and tax collectors.

You might ask then if Jesus comes for the tax collectors, “what about the Pharisees?”

They were doing the right thing, just like the eldest brother. They should be part of the healing too. 

Let’s think back to my elementary classmates on the day I received detention. They correctly followed the rules, and did what they were supposed to do, why associate with someone who got in trouble? Yet, in this moment of self-validation came judgment too. A decision to create separation from the person who messed up instead of embracing as Jesus, God with us does. Maybe they were in need of healing but didn’t know it. And what about if you do not think you need healing? 

Where else do we do that in our own lives?

In decisions to separate from those people with differentiating politics? Those that are just too unlike oneself? What about ignoring those that are oppressed? Because Jesus does not plan to leave them behind. The need for healing can go both ways, healing is not just something that is seen as held for the people that need it more, but given to all.  

Honestly, I do not think we can receive too much grace, mercy, and love, even on our well-behaved days. We should welcome healing within ourselves and alongside those who seek it out too. 

I recall going to my mom with the detention slip, holding back my tears, and then erupting once she saw my face. 

When I later asked my mother about her side of the story, she recounted that I looked so emotionally exhausted by the end of the day she realized I had already learned my lesson before she could get to me. So, she told me it was okay, checked in about why I had received detention, gave me a hug and we moved on. 

Any form of judgment, shame, and hurt I had experienced that day rolled off my shoulders because I was given grace for the times I had messed up. And amidst it all, I was told that I was loved and it will be okay. 

It does not matter if you are a Pharisee, or a tax collector. 

There is no correct answer or judgment call for this parable. Jesus comes to those that are sick and in need of help, and that frankly, means everyone. God seeks out those with detention slips shaking in their hands as well as calling back those that push others away. And that is great news because we all need that kind of grace, healing, and mercy–even when we feel persuaded to think the opposite. And each time we separate ourselves, casting judgment on others, persuaded in our own righteousness, we are called back, promised by the Triune God that all that are lost will be once again found and healed. 

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

God understands us and calls us as we are, while continuing to hold onto God’s promises.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Eighteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 28 C
Texts:  2 Kings 5:1-15c, Luke 17:11-19

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There is a lot more than just healing from leprosy in the readings today.

We are reading about people from two vastly different places in society who find healing and restoration in their lives. These 10 individuals and commander, are experiencing the shame and rejection that comes from the disease of leprosy, but the internal and external impacts appear in drastically different ways.

Naaman is the commander of the king’s army and is important. Or rather it appears in the text that Naaman finds it important that you know he’s important. So as he goes to seek out help from Elisha, Naaman brings his importance with him–horses and chariots as ways to prove to the world that he has power, that he is in control of his life. But when Elisha sends a messenger instead of appearing himself, Naaman becomes irritated. Curing leprosy is not enough, because Naaman wants a big show, not a simple dip in the water. 

And on the opposite side of society, we have the 10 lepers that Jesus encounters. These people are not located in a place of power like Naaman. Instead, they are between Samaria and Galilee in a village, an unnamed place on the outskirts, ignored and pushed away. In the Gospel, we hear them cry out to Jesus, God with us. And Jesus says to them “Go, show yourselves.” This is not a quiet appearance, but a kind of showing that demands attention as they run home to their lives.

These two readings hold strange tension with each other. 

Naaman is asked to contemplate the idea of God working quietly within him while the 10 lepers are asked to show themselves to society. Both passages hold people that are enduring the toll of a devastating disease, yet it leaves us wondering what healing through the Triune God truly looks like. How does God reach out to us? 

The readings side by side show us that there are times that we cry out to God and times we are seeking control–sometimes both simultaneously. Yet, our God continues to work within people, within us, holding on to God’s promises. Up lifting the lowly, bringing the mighty down from their thrones. 

Consider Naaman. 

After taking the word of a young woman who serves his wife, Naaman begins to seek out healing. He initially does so on his own terms complaining about traveling to Israel, the river that he has to step in, and even down to the process of the healing itself. 

We hear Naaman constantly asking “Elisha, can this healing just happen my way?”

Yet, his ears open when it is his servant, of all people, state the ridiculousness of it all. Naaman. Just jump in the water. 

As a stubborn person myself, I understand this. I have days where I would rather overly complicate the simplest of tasks to know that I had it done my way. When all that is needed is simply to jump in the water. Release the control that is deeply craved. Trust God in being present. Despite being in a place of privilege and trying to ignore guidance in healing, Naaman is not left behind by God, but welcomed into new life in the waters.   

Naaman’s journey is not the only way God reaches us with healing. There are the lepers too.  

When the 10 lepers cry out in the Gospel, they are waiting and listening. Sitting with pain–calling out for directions, answers, guidance. This forms in different ways for us too, in broken relationships, questions about illnesses, seeking out direction in major life decisions, with hope that something will make sense. 

Which means when the lepers hear Jesus’s call back, they are up and moving. Moving home towards healing, focused on the goal. 

As we know, one turns back, but remember that all were healed. The one leper that comes back is not meant as a place for the reader to shame the others that do not come back. They were following what Jesus told them to do. 

The one that comes back is a moment for Luke to remind us that God is working within all. Not only who we assume, not only those that appear in our first reading, but through all and bringing healing to all. This man who comes back has already been made whole through the grace of God. He has already been healed and does not need to do anything to change this. This moment of praise calls us back, telling us that God comes for all in the fullness of who they are and continues to hold that promise. 

And amidst that promise, we once again hear Mary’s words from the beginning of Luke.  

Promises of uplifting the oppressed and bringing down rulers from their thrones. This kind of bringing down does not involve Naaman or the 10 from the Gospel being condemned, or rejected. Diseases and illnesses are not punishments or lessons from God. What I am pointing at is that Naaman’s healing brings him from his place of power to listen to those around him and to give up the control he desires to hold. While God lifts up the lepers so that they may be seen and restored to their communities once again.

Healing, restoration, and walking with people as they are. That is what these passages are about.

God reaches out and welcomes. Reaches out to us crying and listens, welcoming us to the water and welcoming us into healing. The Greek tells us in the Gospel that when Jesus saw the 10 suffering from leprosy, he did not just see with his eyes, but he saw with understanding. Understanding for Naaman’s internal distress appearing as outward want for control. Understanding for the 10 lepers wanting to go back to their homes. And understanding for you, in the challenges and questions that are faced each day. 

God sees you, people of God–in your stubbornness, in your cries, in your questions reaching out with healing, love, mercy and grace. All things that are already inside of you, a part of you, and how God works within you. 

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

We are called to be children of light and do so intentionally in our lives, no matter how little or big of acts. 

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 25 C
Texts: Luke 16:1-13

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My friends and I love a good board game. 

I am not talking about shorter games such as Candyland, although Candyland is dear to many, I am speaking of the games that have instructions that take an hour to read and once you get around to playing the game itself–it takes even more hours. I am talking about the games where you spend time standing around the table, investing in reading the rule book, leaning in close, and asking questions about strategy. 

As I read the parable for today, I wanted to know: what kind of game the manager is playing. 

The Gospel tells us that the manager who, in a last-minute attempt to find some security in his life, changes the debts of people that owe his master. That way, when the manager no longer works for the master, he will be welcomed into the homes of the people whose debts he lessened. 

Unexpectedly, when the Master discovers this, he commends the manager for his quick thinking. Instead of getting angry, the master praises the manager for being wise, or shrewd as the text says. This tactic pays off for the manager: he receives security in his future, gains friends, and gets a pat on the back from his boss. What a win! 

Except for the parts of the text that makes us shift in our seats. 

The parable describes the manager as both shrewd and unjust. How can this person, who has been unjust, be taken seriously? We are used to stories where the person we learn from has integrity and seeks honesty, but the person we are left to look to, the manager, does the opposite. Instead, we see that he plays the game. He finds his opening and takes a risk against the odds for a big reward. 

And that leaves us asking what Jesus is saying and how we are involved. 

Jesus tells us “for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” Here is where we begin to see that Jesus is making a parallel between two groups: the children of the manager’s generation and the children of God. Leaving us asking what is the manager doing with his own generation, that we, the children of God, are missing?

The most prominent feature of the manager is his responsiveness to the situation. 

We can tell the manager knows the rule book and acts in order to seek out his goals. As Jesus turns to the disciples to tell this story, he knows these people before him should understand what’s going on. The Triune God is among us, have the disciples not been listening to the parables? If this manager can act with this level of intentionality in his own generation, why are the disciples, the children of God, not? Work for justice, care for the neighbor, and love one another. This is what God tells us to do. 

Yet, these lines get blurred. 

These two lines which are supposed to be parallel, begin to intersect. We focus more on our finances than our neighbors and our mental energy centers on getting ahead instead of living in the moment. We assume someone else will figure it out, rather than asking what we can do. While it is obvious that the manager has his own agenda and goals in the story, we know that ours, as children of God, are different. We look to the Gospel for freedom, we look to the law to guide, and we look to the cross, knowing that God with us, is amidst it all. The manager knows where his priorities lie and what he values. Do we know ours as children of God? Whose values are we following and for what reasons?

In these questions, we look back at the Gospel. 

Jesus tells us “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much” and consequently, “whoever is unjust in a very little is unjust also in much.” Jesus tells us that even if we have little faith, we are doing much. So if we are moving towards loving God and the neighbor even when it does not feel significant, we are doing God’s work. And when we are engaging in things that feel bigger than ourselves, we are doing God’s work. Reaching out to check in on a friend. Picking up litter on the ground. Going on strike to call out exploitation in power structures. 

The manager knows that these odds can be turned when he acts, because he knows the world around him. He has an awareness of the challenges he faces and pushes on regardless of them. What would happen if we trusted God with the same conviction? Jesus tells us that once we begin to live intentionally by doing those acts of little faith towards peace, justice, and loving the neighbor, they become big. Not only in the sense of the world to come, but the world that is happening right here, right now. With intentionality, People will know they are loved. Oppression will disappear into justice. And our world will find peace. 

We know being a child of God is not a game, it is a way of life that pushes us to be intentional, held by grace to turn ourselves towards God.  

Despite the strategy that the manager uses, he seeks out creative ways to solve problems and knows that he needs a community to do it. Similar to my friends and I playing board games, the manager invests his time, leaning in close, learning about the world and people around him. What would it mean for us to do the same in our faith lives? We have a community full of ideas and neighbors that are reaching out. We just need to ask, Children of God: how will you live with intentionality?

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.