Asking for a Friend - When the system falls short, what does faithful action look like?

Luke 10:25-37

Just then, a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered him, “You should love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus said to him, “You have given the right answer. Do this and you shall live.”

But wanting to justify himself, the man asked him, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus answered him, “A man was going down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho when he fell into the hands of robbers who beat him, stripped him, leaving him half dead. Now, by chance a priest was walking along the same road and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So likewise, a Levite, when he came to the place, saw the man and passed by on the other side.

But a Samaritan, while traveling saw the man and was moved with pity. He came near to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. He put him onto his own animal and took him to an inn to take care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the inn keeper and said, ‘Take care of him and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’”

Jesus said to the lawyer, “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers.” He answered him, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

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Our questioner for this morning wasn’t specific, so I’m taking some guesses and some liberty at choosing what they could have meant by “When the system falls short…” – and how a Christian might respond. By that I mean, “SYSTEM” could mean lots of things. When I think “SYSTEM,” I think POLITICAL system, JUSTICE system, HEALTHCARE system, EDUCATION system, the ECONOMY, and so on.

So, maybe our question refers to the ECONOMY that allows corporate CEOs to make 300 times as much as their average employees who then have to worry about the price of eggs or milk or gas or rent. (The economic system is falling short for a lot of people these days. How does a Christian respond?)

Maybe our IMMIGRATION system was on the mind of whoever asked today’s question. Its shortcomings are something both sides of the political aisle actually agree about, after all. (That system and the current methods of remedy are a profound failure of human decency, respect, integrity, and moral character, if you ask me. What does a faithful Christian response look like there?)

I contend that our JUSTICE system falls short every time a Black, brown, or poor person receives a harsher, longer punishment than a white or wealthy person for the same – or lesser – crime. (The justice system is shamefully, painfully failing a whole lot of people. What’s a believer to do?)

And the SYSTEM, writ large, falls short when it chooses to fund the resulting prison industrial complex and a raging war machine rather than provide food, healthcare, and housing for its people. (For people who worship the “Prince of Peace,” the “Healer of Every Ill,” the One who calls us to feed the sick, clothe the naked, turn the other cheek, and forgive our enemy – we have to wonder “What would Jesus do?”)

The SYSTEM is falling short when hospitals, major corporations, private schools, and public schools are bullied into denying, dismantling, or defunding their diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts. (For generations of Christians who grew up singing “Red and Yellow, Black and White, they are precious in his sight” how does our faith call us to respond?)

So, again … the question of the day … What do we do when the system – or any of the systems within the system – fall short? When they don’t live up to our expectations or needs? When they downright fail? What’s a Christian to do? What does a faithful response look like, indeed?

Good question.

Before you ask me, though, I’d ask Shane Claiborne. He’s a faithful Christian activist who does crazy, beautiful things like turns guns into gardening tools – you’ve heard me talk of him before. Shane Claiborne once broke a very particular law, several years ago, in Philadelphia, which had made it illegal to feed homeless people, outdoors, in public spaces. So, in addition to pizza, he served them Holy Communion – all of which got him arrested calling attention to the broken, inhumane, unloving, mean-spirited law the courts ultimately declared unjust and unfair, thanks to his clever act of civil, faithful disobedience.

And before you ask me this question, I’d look to Pastor Martin Luther King, Jr., who protested and broke the racist Jim Crow laws of the South to march, boycott, host sit-ins and to teach, preach, and promote God’s Gospel of diversity, equity and inclusion – showing the world that those are not dirty words and worthless endeavors.

Before you ask me this question, I’d look to Lutheran pastor and theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who preached and taught and wrote about The Cost of Discipleship and was executed for fighting against the moral, ethical, evil failures of the Nazis, during World War II. I’d wonder about Cesar Chavez who fought for fair wages, safe working conditions, and decent standards of living for migrant and agricultural workers in our country. I’d remember Mother Teresa who gave up everything to care for the poorest of the poor that every system of healthcare, education, and human compassion had failed.

Each of these faithful Christian people responded to the broken, failing systems they witnessed in ways that were informed and inspired by the teachings of Jesus. And each of them, surely, was informed and inspired the Good Samaritan – this outsider who saw the suffering of a stranger, recognized him as a neighbor, crossed the road, broke some rules, risked his own safety, and gave up a full measure of his time and money to help, as nothing more and nothing less than an act of compassion and mercy.

In some ways, the answer to today’s question is as simple as that – When the system falls short, faithful action looks like seeing everyone as your neighbor and showing them mercy, as a result.

But the truth is, we like to pretend – you and I – that we don’t have courage or occasion enough of the time to encounter the suffering, dying, needs of our neighbor in as dramatic a fashion as Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, Mother Theresa, or that Good Samaritan in Jesus’ story. And maybe that’s true. Maybe we don’t have courage or occasion enough to respond like that.

But since you asked, I’ll tell you what I’ve done, what I try to do, and what I hope for around here – as your pastor; as your Partner in Mission; and as a wannabe follower of Jesus. Because I believe my response – and ours together in this place – to the short-falls of the systems that surround us show up in lots of ways. We have a unique calling in this community, in this political climate, at this particular time – as fellow wannabe followers of Jesus – to do something about the systemic shortfalls that threaten us and that harm our neighbors.

The easiest thing I do is that I say a lot of words. I do my best to preach and teach about a God who loves all people and hope that moves us all to defend, protect, support, welcome, affirm, and love all people, too – on this side of heaven, not just the next, which is key. God’s love and grace are meant to be shared with all people on this side of heaven, not just the next.

Our Groceries of Grace food pantry matters because it helps mitigate the systemic shortfalls of a broken economic system by simply feeding people kindly, compassionately, generously, with dignity – and without a lot of questions or pre-requisites. And hopefully that allows them to spend the grocery money they save on other needs.

Our Racial Justice Team matters because churches are one of the few institutions who haven’t been bullied by the system – yet – into decrying or dropping Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion efforts, and withholding the truth about the ongoing impact of racism on our neighbors. We aren’t perfect, but from what I know, Cross of Grace does that more deliberately and more faithfully than any congregation in Hancock County.

I’m leading that Unclobber book study again (starting this Wednesday at 6:30 p.m.) because no other congregation in our community will do that either; and because not enough churches in our country have evolved to embrace the TRUTH about what the Bible actually says and does not say about homosexuality among God’s people.

I chair the board for Project Rouj, too, because Jesus tells me that my neighbor isn’t just someone who lives next door or who looks and believes and behaves like I do. So I like building houses for my friends and strangers in Fondwa, Haiti.

And, lastly – and not for nothing – when it comes to mitigating the impact of the broken, failing systems that surround us – my family gives our money away, because Jesus tells us to. The Havels give regular, if not monthly, financial contributions to places like Project Rouj, WFYI and NPR, and Susan G. Komen. And all of that is secondary to the more than 10% of our income that we give to the ministry at Cross of Grace, every year too.

(I don’t say this to brag or guilt-trip anyone. I’m just answering the question. And I admit, it’s impressive and tempting to wonder about the swimming pools, nicer cars, college tuition, and second home we could have paid and saved for over the years with that money. And I pray for and dream about the day when more of you believe me when I tell you what a difference that kind of giving could make for you, your family, for the ministry we share, and for this broken world we’re trying to mend.)

All of this is to say that – in the face of the failing systems that surround us – Jesus calls us to follow the Good Samaritan’s lead.

Because let’s remember – without too much despair – that whatever system you think is failing you, or someone you love, or your proverbial neighbor in some way … this is nothing new. Jesus showed up in the world precisely because the systems of this world are insufficient and unequal to the task of loving God’s people in ways that God desires and asks of God’s people.

So God calls us to be here precisely because the system fails, is failing, and will fail again and again and again. We are called to cross the proverbial street to see and hear about the suffering of our neighbor. We are called to look long and hard and deeply at what hurts and harms them, most. We’re called, too, to wonder if we have participated in that somehow.

And then we are called to do something about it, as much as we are able. We find them help. We provide them resources. We take some risks. We give some money. We show mercy.

And when we do, Jesus promises, we get a glimpse of eternal life, right where we live.

Amen

The Primeval Mythology of Genesis - The Flood

Genesis 9:8-17

Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, ‘As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.’ God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.’ God said to Noah, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.’

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I was worried I’d mess up and say, “The Gospel of the Lord,” when I got done reading that bit from Genesis. I was worried, because that’s just what I’m used to saying after reading whatever text it is I’ll be preaching on – which is more often than not, something from one of the actual Gospels in scripture. And, even though this bit from Genesis, in the Hebrew scriptures, can’t technically be called “the Gospel,” it – as much as anything else in the Hebrew scriptures – reads, sounds, and feels like Gospel good news to me.

I mean, it has all the things, right? There’s the declaration of a covenant, for all of creation. There’s the promise of mercy, love, hope, and redemption. And there’s a visible, almost tangible, sign of all of that – not a cross, or an empty tomb, but that bow in the clouds. It seems so very much like the Gospel, if you ask me.

It also seems/feels/sounds like “the Gospel” because it’s so BIG, so cosmic in scope, which is the way the “primeval mythology” we’ve been talking about is supposed to work. It addresses the big things … the big picture … in a big way. And you know it’s big when the idea of something like a great flood shows up in several other world religions, just like it does in our own.

- The most familiar flood narrative – and the one very close to ours in terms of culture and content – is from the Epic of Gilgamesh, where a hero is warned by a god to build a boat in order to survive the coming rains.

- Hindus have a flood story, too, where the fishy incarnation of Vishnu warns the first human about a coming flood and instructs him to build a boat.

- The Greeks have Zeus send a flood where Deucalion and Pyrrha build a boat, survive, and repopulate the earth by throwing stones behind them.

- And there are other flood narratives, too, from the Incas, the Aztecs, the Chinese, Aboriginals, and more.

Smarter people than me use the seemingly universal nature of and affinity for such stories as evidence that there really was some sort of global deluge and flood that people of all stripes were trying to make sense of and ascribe meaning to. Other smarter people than me wonder if these stories are evidence of peoples and cultures simply trying to make sense of more localized natural disasters, torrential rains, and terrible floods when they hit – maybe like the tragedy we all watched play out in Texas a couple weeks ago; or the ones that have also threatened and taken lives in New York, Virginia, Washington, and South Korea, lately, too.

Whatever the case – cosmic or close to home – it’s helpful for me to remind myself that our flood story isn’t necessarily about the water, the rain, or the flood. That it’s not so much about the length of days, the size of the boat, or the number of which kinds of beasts were on board with Noah and his family. (The guys at the Cross of Grace Brew Club yesterday wanted to be sure I explained how dinosaurs fit onto the ark, why God bothered to save the mosquitos, and something about pigs and bacon, too.) Someone at the “Ark Encounter”– that Noah’s Ark museum in northern Kentucky? – will pretend to give you an answer to those questions, but I’m suspicious of their certainty and I’m certainly not willing to pay them for it.

Which is to say – again and again and again – the capital-T-TRUTH in these origin stories of our faith isn’t found by way of a literal reading of scripture. That is simply not their intention. And again, today’s story is not about the details of the flood, the length of days, the size of the boat, or the number of birds, beasts, or brothers on Noah’s boat. The Truth we’re meant to find in all of that is about the nature of the God we’re invited to wonder about – and to encounter – thanks to the telling of this ancient tale.

This is a God who calls righteous people to do hard things; impossible things; unreasonably faithful, fearless things for the greater good.

This is a God who calls people to respect, care for, and tend to the natural, created world and to humbly revere nature’s capacity for beauty and brutality.

This is a God who never promises that life will be easy – or without its suffering and struggle and sacrifice. This is true for the sinful and for the righteous. (Just because Noah was chosen and survived, he lost plenty along the way, for sure.)

And this is a God who promises that the world’s destruction – if or when or should it ever happen again – won’t be God’s doing; which is our call to faith, hope, and love, in action, if you ask me.

To me, that means, if there’s to be another flood … or a fire … or a famine – on a cosmic scale or somewhere close to home – where so many lives are lost, it won’t be God’s fault. So maybe that’s a very practical, timely warning to pay attention to global warming. Maybe that’s our invitation to wonder about who’s at risk or in harm’s way – from floods or fires or famines or whatever. And maybe that’s our call to look out for and protect our neighbor – and the world around us – rather than to build a boat with only enough room to save ourselves. But I digress…

There’s a recent trend on social media where parents of my generation ask their children or grandchildren to complete what have been identified as “toxic parenting phrases” that many of us heard often when we were growing up. “Toxic parenting phrases” that, in theory, parents have learned not to use as frequently – if at all – anymore, like they used to.

Phrases like “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Or, “Children should be seen and not heard.”

Or, “If you don’t stop crying I’ll give you something to cry about.”

The point of the exercise is to show how raising kids WITHOUT such negative, “toxic” phrases has changed and is, presumably better, more kind, loving, encouraging, emotionally intelligent, and psychologically healthy.

And this seems obvious – and evident – once you hear children from more recent generations who’ve never heard those “toxic phrases” try to guess at filling in the blanks like many of you all just did so capably.

For example, instead of “Children should be seen and not heard,” one young toddler said, “Children should be seen … at school.”

Instead of “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about,” other kids said, “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you … a hug … or I’ll give you something to eat.” Again, a much more emotionally healthy, loving, hopeful way to live as a young child in the world, don’t you think?

And my favorite one of these – and perhaps the most toxic of them all – is that oldie but goody, “I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.”

How terrible is that if a kid hears if often enough and starts to believe it?!? And we can pretend it’s a joke … that it’s funny, perhaps … that we or our parents never really meant to follow through on that threat. But that just isn’t the case with the popular theology of the God so many have been raised to learn about and to believe in from Genesis.

See, too much of the time, that’s all and only what we’ve done with the story of Noah, the Ark, and the Flood.

Because as an origin story of our faith … as part of this “primeval mythology” we’ve been talking about … the other thing this story has in common with other world religions is that their flood stories are often very deliberately connected with the creation stories, too. Just like ours, they first tell of a God who has the power of creation and the power of judgment, punishment, and destruction, too.

In other words, the story they tell is nothing more and nothing less than: “God brought us into this world and God can take us out of it.”

So what makes Noah’s story – our story – so different for us, is that God promises that that won’t happen ever again. There’s a reminder and a rainbow, remember … there is a covenant and a promise … there is Gospel good news here for all people; for every living creature; for all flesh.

And this good news should call us to live differently because of it.

Because, on the other side of the flood – on the other side of the cross and the empty tomb of Jesus, too – the waters of the flood become waters of baptism; they become waters of forgiveness, redemption, love, hope, and new life.

So, as we share the blessing of that water with Scout Ehle today (and every time we have the chance to share, celebrate, and remember the sacrament) – as we celebrate with his dads and his family – as we promise to pray for, support, and live together with him in this covenant that belongs to us all – I hope that it’s a God of grace and good news we’re living for, responding to, and sharing – with Scout, with each other, and with the whole wide world – every chance we get.

Amen