the least of these

Unlikely Heroes

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Unlikely Heroes” Mark 12:38-44

On December fourth, the eastern New York region of the American Red Cross will hold their “real heroes” celebration. It’s an annual dinner that honors Central and Northern New York residents whose acts of heroism or volunteerism have assisted those in need within their communities. It’s a feel-good evening of fun, food, and fundraising that honors everyday people who do extraordinary things.

This year, the Adult Good Samaritans Hero Award goes to four people who saw a car veer off the road and into a retention pond in the town of Clay. Tom Drumm and Lasaros Milian swam to the submerged car, removed the driver, and brought her to safety. Then, once on shore, Judy Kilpatrick and D. Paul Waltz provided further aid until emergency responders arrived.

The Community Impact Hero Award will go to Syracuse Mayor Ben Walsh. To stem the tide of gun violence in the city, Walsh pledged one million dollars of the city’s budget to meeting the crisis head-on. He created the Mayor’s Office to Reduce Gun Violence. The office has implemented a coordinated strategy to work with residents, law enforcement, and other community stakeholders. The innovative effort includes the Safer Streets initiative, which works directly with gang members to keep them out of trouble.

The Disaster Services Hero Award goes to two women: Melissa Roy and Danielle Martin. They coordinate the Community Schools Program for the City of Rome. Like our local Community Schools Program, Melissa and Danielle work year ‘round with at-risk families to ensure that students are fed, cared for, and successful in school, equipping them to become productive, engaged, and healthy citizens. When an EF4 Tornado tore through Rome on July 17, leaving a swath of destruction through south Rome and into the downtown, Melissa and Danielle worked non-stop alongside the Red Cross to feed the community and distribute much-needed supplies.

These unlikely heroes have shown courage, dedication, and character through their selfless acts to assist their neighbors.

Our gospel lesson this week introduced us to an unlikely hero. Jesus and his followers were in Jerusalem for that fateful, final Passover celebration. While visiting the Temple, the Lord took a break from teaching to do some people watching. Jesus’ friends must have been surprised by what he noticed.

First, Jesus considered some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the Temple courts: the scribes. These experts in the Torah played an important role in the life of Israel. They were highly educated to equip them to interpret the scriptures. They served as judges, rendering justice in Israel’s courts. They were also spiritual leaders, whose authority was passed down in families from generation to generation. Who wouldn’t want to be a scribe—privileged by birth, literate, wealthy, and respected? As they strode through the Temple courts in their costly robes and blessed the people with their flowery prayers, the scribes had the respect and adulation of the pilgrims who had come from across the Roman Empire for the Passover.

Jesus, however, wasn’t impressed. As only he could, Jesus saw beyond the fine clothes and eloquence to the very heart of the scribes, and he didn’t like what he saw. In a patriarchal world where women did not have property or inheritance rights, widows depended on the fairness and generosity of their husband’s heir to provide for them as they aged. In cases of neglect or abuse, a case could be brought before the scribes for justice. Or, in a case where there was no clear heir, property could be held in trust by the scribes, until a minor boy child reached adulthood. Although the scribes were well-versed in the Bible’s imperative to care for their vulnerable neighbors, Jesus saw that these Torah-experts were enriching themselves at the widows’ expense, devouring their houses by taking bribes, making biased rulings, and spending for their own benefit what they held in trust. Jesus’ indictment of the powerful and well-respected scribes would have shocked his listeners.

If the disciples were surprised by Jesus’ scorn for the Scribes, then they would have been even more amazed by his praise for the poor widow at the Temple’s Treasury, outside the Court of the Women. The Mishnah tells us that the treasury consisted of thirteen large metal boxes with an unusual shape, broad at the bottom and very narrow at the top, a bit like an inverted funnel, a shape that ensured that you couldn’t reach a hand down in to take money out.  In those days long before paper money, a large gift of coins dropped into the narrow mouth of the treasury made a loud noise as it rattled down to the bottom. A small gift dropped into the treasury made very little sound.

The gift Jesus’ widow made was very, very small. She gave two lepton, two tiny coins, worth 1/64th of the daily wage for a laborer. In today’s economy, where a day laborer earns $14.54 an hour, this woman’s gift was worth $1.82. In the grand scheme of Temple economics, the widow’s gift was practically worthless. Yet, Jesus saw into the widow’s heart and realized that she had made an extraordinary gift. In Greek, the words Jesus used for her offering are holon ton bion autaes, it literally means that she gave “her whole life.” She dedicated her time, her talents, her leptons, all she had and all that she would ever be to God. It was a gesture of radical love and trust, an offering of tremendous gratitude in the midst of loss and grief.  She gave her very self to the Lord.

I know it has been a tough week for many of us. Last week, I asked us to remember that, no matter what the outcome of the election would be, half of us would be disappointed. I reminded us that God is with us in the chaos and encouraged us to be gentle with one another. This week, my phone and computer have blown up with calls, texts, emails, and messages from folks, far and wide, who are deeply dismayed. I hear you, especially those who feel that the “scribes” have won the day to the detriment of the “poor widows” of our nation.

On Wednesday, I went to the local Department of Social Services. They facilitate assistance to people in need. I was accompanying an incredibly hardworking neighbor, who provides for a large, extended family. They had lost their SNAP benefits because they worked too much overtime. Sitting in that sterile, institutional office, across the desk from an overworked and under-resourced social worker, I pondered the crumbs that we throw to the poor. I couldn’t help but realize how incredibly privileged I am. I have more education than most people would probably ever want. I own a home. I never worry about whether I can put food on the table, if I have clothes to wear, or if I can repair my used car. I imagine that most of us are like me. Whether we like it or not, our lives, in terms of material resources, bear a closer resemblance to the scribe than they do the poor widow of today’s reading. What a terrible privilege and awesome responsibility that is!

I’ve been thinking about those real heroes, the ones that the Red Cross will honor on December fourth. They don’t fly or have superpowers. They don’t wear red capes and tights. I suspect they are a lot like us—ordinary people who dare to care and respond. Tom, Lasaros, Judy, and Paul saw someone in trouble and sprang into action. Ben Walsh had the gumption to seek to stem the tide of gun violence in his city. Melissa and Danielle’s hearts were touched by neighbors in crisis, and they walked into the breach left by the tornado with food and support.

If the 2024 election and the deep divides in our nation call us to anything, it is to do as much good as we can right where we are, to use the privilege, power, or authority entrusted to us to make a positive, caring, righteous difference in our world. We can be unlikely heroes, like the widow, like those Red Cross honorees. We can give holon ton bion autaes, our whole lives, to the Lord. We can make a difference in the lives of our neighbors, especially those who do not benefit from the advantages that are ours. Are you with me?

When Jesus called his friends over to celebrate the poor widow, I’m sure he was thinking of another gift, a heroic gift, soon to be made. The widow’s gift anticipated the offering that the Jesus himself would make. Within days, Jesus would be arrested and unjustly tried, tortured and condemned to death. Within days, the beaten and bloody Jesus would be marched through the streets of Jerusalem to his execution. Within days, he would hang on the cross, flanked by criminals, jeered at by spectators. Within days, Jesus would give his very life—holon ton bion autaes—for the redemption of our world.

May we dare to be unlikely heroes.

Resources

Jon Moss. “Syracuse anti-violence program making progress, more needs to be done, officials say” in Syracuse.com, June 5, 2024. Accessed online at Syracuse anti-violence program making progress, more needs to be done, officials say – syracuse.com

Sean I. Mills. “Worst tornado in 40 years to hit Oneida County; survey team outlines path, destruction” in Daily Sentinel, July 18, 2024. Worst tornado in 40 years to hit Oneida County; survey team outlines path, destruction | News | romesentinel.com

Micah D. Kiel. “Commentary on Mark 12:38-44” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 11, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:38-44  – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Henry Langknecht. “Commentary on Mark 12:38-44” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 8, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:38-44  – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Karoline Lewis. “Whole Life Living” in Dear Working Preacher, Nov. 1, 2015. Accessed online at Whole Life Living – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Mark 12:38-44

38 As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” 41 He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

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Heart Trouble

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Heart Trouble” Mark 2:23-3:6

Sunday mornings at the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington, DC can feel like a curious collision of reverent worship and human need. The church, just a couple of blocks from the White House, is in an area of the city with a burgeoning homeless population. The benches in the tiny triangle park outside the church are a favorite overnight sleeping spot. A mentally ill woman pushing a shopping cart inspects the trash for thrown away treasures. A down and out neighbor scrounges for cigarette butts on the sidewalk.

Before I went to seminary, when I was a young adult member of the church, I was often panhandled on my way into worship, “Sister, can you give a man a little help?” During worship, when the children and those feeling a little childlike were invited to the front of the sanctuary, there would always be at least one adult participant—Larry, a developmentally disabled man from a local residence who lived with mental illness. One Sunday, during Dr. Craig’s sermon, someone was snoring. It was loud—so loud that those of us in the pews spent the better part of the message craning our necks to see one of our homeless brothers, stretched out in a side pew. On another day, Dr. Craig told us that as he was locking up the church to head home, he fell, tripping over a homeless man who was sleeping in a corner of the doorway.

Churches are sacred places, built to glorify God with our worship and praise. Churches are serving places, where neighbors in need find “a little help.” Sometimes finding that right balance of worship and service can be tough.

Our reading from Mark’s gospel tells of two Sabbath controversies. First, Jesus was challenged by the Pharisees for the Sabbath day behavior of his disciples. As Jesus’s hungry friends walked through the fields, they plucked ears of barley, rolled them between their hands to remove the chaff, and ate the ripe grain. Next, Jesus was in the synagogue on the sabbath day when he noticed a man with a helpless, withered hand. Jesus provocatively asked his critics, “Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath?” Then, answering his own question, Jesus healed. The useless hand grew hale and able.

Jesus and the Pharisees clearly had a difference of opinion when it came to interpreting what scripture had to say about sabbath observance. We tend to poke fun at the Pharisees, but Prof. Clif Black, who teaches at Princeton Seminary, reminds us that the Pharisees, a reform movement in first century Judaism, were well-regarded as upstanding and devout people. They were dedicated to “superlative” obedience to scripture in all walks of life. They liked things done decently and in order—that sounds downright Presbyterian.

The Pharisees had two problems with Jesus’s friends in the grain field. For one, they were traveling on the sabbath. For another, it was a slippery slope from gleaning to harvesting – if you let people glean on the sabbath, who knows what sort of work could happen next. And that man with the problem hand? More work. The man and Jesus should have had the good sense to wait until the sabbath was over to get their healing on. Jesus, with his disregard for their sabbath piety, put the whole community at risk. They needed to be holy as God is holy, and that meant their strict observance of the Torah.

Jesus disagreed. He looked at the big picture. Jesus considered God’s intent in instituting the sabbath as part of the rhythm of creation. God certainly didn’t need to rest after bringing the world into being, but humanity? We would need rest. In imparting the ten commandments, God mandated sabbath so that the people might be gratefully reoriented in God, might deepen their relationship with the one who created us—and deepen our connection to one another. What a radical gift for former slaves, who had never known the blessing of unfettered leisure! Sabbath should inspire our profound gratitude and reverence, yet it also helps and heals us. It promotes our wholeness. We might even say that on the sabbath day we are re-created.

“The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath,” Jesus taught. The choice to relieve someone’s hunger, the choice to end the suffering and disability of a neighbor, these beautiful, compassionate acts honored God’s original intent for the sabbath, every bit as much as the reverent worship of the Pharisees. Unfortunately, Jesus’s opponents were so invested in their own perspective that they could not hear Jesus or allow their hard hearts to be moved with compassion. Instead, only 79 verses into Mark’s gospel, Jesus’s adversaries began to conspire to discredit and silence him.

I am told that the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church struggled to find that right balance between sabbath day reverence and sabbath day service. In the early 80’s federal funding for mental health services saw big cuts, transferring responsibility for formerly institutionalized people to states that just weren’t ready.  The streets of cities like Washington soon teemed with folks who could not care for themselves. As the church’s triangle park became a de facto mini homeless settlement, they wondered, what do we do? Close the park? Work with law enforcement to encourage homeless neighbors to find someplace else to be on Sunday morning? Open up the church’s Lincoln Room for bagels and a gospel hymn sing?

The hymn sing won out, but still there was a weekly struggle to find enough volunteers to handle the loud, needy, and stinky mess that comes along with homeless neighbors. Members left the church. Those who stayed wondered if new people, who weren’t homeless, would ever come, would ever labor alongside them. They weren’t Pharisees, but they were Presbyterians with a longing for order and a good uninterrupted Sunday sermon. It wasn’t easy.

I think Jesus knew that faithful people would always live with this tension between our desire for holiness and the calling to meet the needs of our neighbors. That’s why his great command is an imperative to do both – love God and love neighbor. God is glorified by our overflowing love and heartfelt worship. Yet God is also glorified when we open our hearts and turn to the world with compassion, when we seek to make a helping, healing difference in the lives of those who need it most. We need both – worship and service. When we get it right, we are drawn ever deeper into the beauty of God and into the spirit of Jesus, who challenged his followers to see him in our neighbors who most need our love and care, every day of the week.

Sundays at this church aren’t quite like Sunday mornings in downtown Washington. I bet no one panhandled you on the way in. My old friend Larry doesn’t sit on the chancel with me for children’s time. While someone may fall asleep during the service, it won’t be because they spent last night sleeping on a subway grate. Yet we are mindful this morning of the need of our world. If you came in the side entrance, you saw the overflowing donation of paper goods for families that depend on Grace Pantry. You saw the pack basket that collects our Food Pantry gifts for hungry neighbors. You may have even noticed the learning stations in the sanctuary and Great Hall about the work of the Holm family to bring the gospel and sanitation to our Malawi neighbors. They may not be sleeping in the pews, but our vulnerable neighbors are with us this morning, and we can choose to make a helping difference. Today, we glorify God with our worship—and God will be glorified, too, as we love those who hunger and thirst for wholeness, good news, and good food.

If those Pharisees and Herodians had only wrapped their hearts around what Jesus was trying to teach them about the sabbath, they would have gotten blessed. So blessed! On that Sunday morning at the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, when the homeless brother was snoring loudly through Dr. Craig’s sermon, the ushers in their blue blazers and ties marshalled forces in the narthex, devising a plan to wake the guy up. The very wise Dr. Craig stopped preaching and he waylaid their efforts. “Please, folks,” he said from the pulpit, “I’m sure it is the safest and warmest that the man has been all week.” As Dr. Craig’s words sank in, we realized that we had just heard the real sermon for that Sunday. We all thought about how truly blessed we were, to have homes and a church home, to have more than enough, to have people who love us, to have a wise pastor who called us to our better selves. It was one of those graced moments when we found the right balance between worship and service. It was one of those graced moments when we glimpsed Jesus, who told us he would come to us in our vulnerable neighbors. I can’t say for sure, but I suspect that God was, indeed, glorified.

Resources:

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 2:23-3:6” in Preaching This Week, June 2, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 2:23—3:6 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Mark 2:23-3:6” in Preaching This Week, June 3, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 2:23—3:6 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John Wilkinson. “Theological Perspective on Mark 3:1-6” in Feasting of the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

William R. Herzog II. “Homiletical Perspective on Mark 3:1-6” in Feasting of the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Mark 2:23—3:6

23One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. 24The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” 25And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? 26He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” 27Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; 28so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

3Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” 4Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. 5He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

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The Pearl of Scotland

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Pearl of Scotland” Isaiah 6:1-8

Let me tell you two stories.

Margaret never wanted to be a queen. She was the granddaughter of Edmund Ironside, one of the last Saxon kings of England. Amid the struggle for succession that followed Edmund’s death, Margaret’s father Edward was sent to the protection of King Stephen of Hungary. When Margaret was only nine, the family returned to England, where the king, childless and aging, had resolved to adopt Edward as his heir. But within days of their return to English soil, Edward fell mysteriously ill and died. For the next twelve years, Margaret was a dependent of the royal court until her brother Harold could inherit the crown. Margaret had little appetite for court with its pomp, intrigue, and power. Instead, she led a quiet and devout life, finding comfort in prayer, the study of scripture, and meditating upon the life of Christ. She was befriended by a fellow exile, Malcolm of Scotland, whose father had been murdered by the usurper Macbeth.

Isaiah never wanted to be a prophet. Young Isaiah was worshipping in the Temple, surrounded by songs and prayers, sacrifice and incense, when he saw a vision of the heavenly throne room. So limitless was God that the Temple could barely contain the hem of God’s robe.  In a flash of spiritual insight, Isaiah realized that his earthly worship was only a dim echo of heavenly rejoicing. Six-winged seraphs thundered God’s praise, shouting “Holy, holy, holy!” Amid the overwhelming sanctity of the heavenly and earthly throne rooms, Isaiah heard an undeniable voice. The Triune God called, saying to him, “Whom shall I send?”

Margaret’s calling came in the year 1066 when she was twenty-one. William the Conqueror laid claim to the English throne and defeated the British at the Battle of Hastings. Margaret, with her mother and siblings, fled north and boarded a boat, intent on returning to the safety of Hungary. But as the boat got underway, a mighty wind blew them off course, driving them ever further north until they ran aground in the broad estuary where the Forth River empties into the North Sea. There, they learned that providence had brought them to an old friend: Malcolm of Scotland. Now king, Malcolm was widowed with a young son. By all accounts, when Malcolm again saw Margaret, he fell head-over-heels in love. Here was his new queen, sent to him by God. Within days, Malcolm proposed, but the exiled princess turned down the royal invitation.

When God asked, “Whom shall I send?”, Isaiah was reluctant to answer the call. Confronted by the earthshaking holiness of God almighty, Isaiah felt only his frailty and unworthiness. Every false or self-serving statement that Isaiah had ever spoken rang in his ears, forcing him to confess the painful truth of his sinfulness, “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” But the reluctant Isaiah soon learned that God could work with that. A coal, plucked from the fire of the heavenly throne room, touched Isaiah’s lips, and his sins were refined by the holy fire. Isaiah’s overweening sense of unworthiness was replaced by a compulsion to speak God’s word to the people.

When the exiled Princess Margaret declined Malcolm’s proposal, the Scottish King persisted. He granted Margaret’s family his protection, and they came to live in his castle at Dunfermline. There Margaret saw a royal court far removed from the pomp and intrigue of England. Malcolm was illiterate. His subjects lived in poverty. Margaret’s love for the king began as she read to him from the New Testament, and she learned of his passion to improve the lives of his people. Margaret and Malcolm heard in the words of Jesus, an imperative to serve the “least of these.” More than three years after that fateful wind blew her north to Scotland, Margaret finally said, “Yes,” to Malcolm. She came to see that her royal marriage would allow her to serve two kingdoms, one earthly, the other heavenly.

Isaiah’s words of prophecy held a similar concern for the vulnerable of the land. He had seen the face of poverty and the indifference of the rich. They had failed to honor the words of God, ignored the plight of the widow and orphan, denied justice to the foreign worker, and ground the face of the poor into the dust. The prophet spoke God’s judgment against the Kingdom of Judah, pleading with them to repent. Time was short, Isaiah warned, but they could still learn to do good: to seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, and plead for the widow (Is. 1:17). If they failed, God would bring judgment against the people of Israel. Babylon would rise. Judah would be conquered and taken into exile.

Margaret and Malcolm had a happy, fruitful marriage. The exiled princess, now a queen, became the mother of eight children and the mother of the Scottish people. She saw herself as a steward, entrusted by God with the care of a nation. Each morning, Margaret left the palace at Dunfermline with her New Testament tucked under her arm. She took a seat on a rock outside the royal residence to receive guests who came to her for counsel, prayer, and help. The queen fed nine orphans every morning with her own silver spoon. Each evening, Margaret and Malcolm opened their table to 24 of their poorest neighbors. They instituted a series of feast days, in keeping with the church calendar, when 300 of their most vulnerable subjects were banqueted with royal splendor. Motivated by the love of Christ, they built schools and churches, opened hospitals and hostels, and rebuilt Iona Abbey, which had fallen into ruin. They instituted sabbath laws, giving workers a weekly day of rest. Margaret had special concern for prisoners and exiles. She bought the freedom of English and Irish slaves, returning them to their homelands.

When Isaiah’s prophecy was fulfilled and Judah fell to Babylonian invaders, Isaiah’s call shifted as the no-longer-powerful people of Judah became as vulnerable as the poor they had once oppressed. Isaiah spoke God’s words of consolation to a hurting people, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.  Speak tenderly to Jerusalem” (Isaiah 40:1).  Years later as the exiles returned home, Isaiah went with them, prophesying about God’s plans for a new beginning for the humbled nation, speaking God’s promise, “For I will create a new heaven and a new earth; the past events will not be remembered or come to mind” (Isaiah 65:17). Perhaps Isaiah’s greatest legacy, though, was the lasting impact that he would have upon all who pursue God’s call to serve the last and the least. When Jesus preached to his hometown crowd in Nazareth, he opened the scroll to the words of the prophet Isaiah and read words that were fulfilled in his ministry, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

In 1093, when King Malcolm and their oldest son were killed in a skirmish with Norman invaders, Queen Margaret, hearing the news in Edinburgh, fell sick. She died three days later; some say of a broken heart. But Margaret and Malcolm’s youngest son, David, would become Scotland’s most beloved king, pursuing his father’s royal rule and his mother’s passion for the least of these. One hundred and fifty years after Margaret’s death, those who remembered her life and legacy began to advocate for her canonization as a saint. The trouble was that she didn’t fit the traditional mold of sainthood. She was a devoted wife and the happy mother of a large family. She worked no miracles, other than the everyday miracle of loving her people and advocating ceaselessly for their health, justice, and care. The arbiters of sainthood in Rome came up with four posthumous miracles for Margaret, all related to her tomb and bones. Today Margaret is reverenced as the patron saint of service to the poor, learning, large families, mothers, and all those who are raising children. Margaret’s greater legacy is felt whenever we, who have privilege by virtue of our birth, education, or wealth, choose to generously use our resources for the good of our vulnerable neighbors.

In his biography of Margaret, her friend and confessor Bishop Turgot of St. Andrews, noted that the name Margaret derives from the Greek word Margaron, meaning pearl. Turgot wrote, “She was called Margaret, and in the sight of God she showed herself to be a pearl, precious in faith and works. She was indeed a pearl to you, to me, to all of us, yea, to Christ Himself, and being Christ’s she is all the more ours now that she has left us, having been taken to the Lord. . . and now she shines in her place among the jewels of the Eternal King.” Margaret has been known as the Pearl of Scotland ever since.

Resources:

Turgot, Bishop of St. Andrew’s. “Life of St. Margaret Queen of Scotland.” trans. Theodericus Monk of Durham and William Forbes-Leith. Edinburgh: William Paterson Press, 1884. Accessed online at https://archive.org/details/lifeofstmargaret00turguoft/lifeofstmargaret00turguoft/page/n9/mode/2up

Clerk of Oxford. “St Margaret of Scotland,” June 10, 2012. Accessed online at https://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2012/06/st-margaret-of-scotland.html

Griffiths, Paul James. “Queen Margaret: the Pearl of Scotland” in The Middle Ages, May 7, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.christianheritageedinburgh.org.uk

Floyd, Michael. “Exegetical Perspective on Isaiah 6:1-8” in Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 2.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Ramsey Jr., G. Lee. “Homiletical Perspective on Isaiah 6:1-8” in Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 2.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Isaiah 6:1-8

6In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” 4The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke.

5And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” 6Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”

Santa Margarida da Escócia – Basílica de São Patrício, Montreal (Canadá) – Foto: Gustavo Kralj

The Least of These

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Least of These” Matthew 25:31-46

Bob stopped typing. There it was again, an insistent knocking, down at the front door. It was Saturday morning. Marge and Paul had driven south for a weekend of Christmas shopping with her sister in Albany. Bob was working on his sermon, but he had deleted more than he had written. He pushed back his desk chair and ventured downstairs.

There on the doorstep was the short, round form of Junior Miller. Bob remembered the Christmas Eve that Junior had been born, more than twenty years ago, now. Bob had been called to the hospital to visit the newest member of his flock. Junior’s almond-shaped eyes and rosebud mouth confirmed what his parents had learned: Down Syndrome. But the boy had been a delight. Sure, he struggled with school. Sure, he took some bullying. But his kind nature was unstoppable. This morning, Junior looked extra round. A down jacket stretched across his belly, snow boots reached almost to his knees, a bright wool handknit hat and matching scarf and mittens were keeping out the cold.

“Why Junior! What brings you to my door so bright and early?”

Junior pulled down the scarf to free his mouth and leaned in, “Pastor Bob, I had a dream.”

Bob’s eyebrows shot up, like they do when he is intrigued. “A dream. You don’t say. You want to come in and tell me about it?”

Junior shook his head emphatically, no! “Pastor Bob! It was God, he said he was going to see me today. I don’t have time to visit with you.”

Bob nodded appreciatively. “Hmm. Well, where do you think you’ll find God?”

Junior pushed back his knit cap and looked up and down the street. “God didn’t say. Any ideas?”

Bob looked left and right. It had snowed a lot overnight. The plows had been out to clear the lane, but the trees were bowed beneath the wintry weight. Bob squinted against the snowy glare, “Well, Junior. I’m not sure where you’ll find Jesus, but I’m certain he’s out there. Be sure to send him my way. I could use some help with my sermon.”

Junior nodded, turned around, and marched off in search of Jesus.

Junior had only gone a few blocks when he saw old Mrs. Trombley. Every week she came to the dairy where Junior worked and bought the same thing:  a dozen eggs, a half-gallon of milk, and one of Mrs. Underhill’s freshly-baked bear claw pastries. This morning, Mrs. Trombly was shoveling snow. A wall of the white stuff had drifted against the back of her car. You could barely make out the bumper.

“Hi, Mrs. Trombly! It’s me, Junior.”

Mrs. Trombley leaned on her shovel to catch her breath. Her cheeks were bright red and she looked kind of sweaty. Junior hadn’t noticed before, but Mrs. Trombley seemed to be shrinking. Her back curved inside her old winter coat. She had to look up to see his face. “Why Junior, good morning! How do you like all this snow?”

Junior took her question seriously. “Pretty nice, I guess.”

Mrs. Trombley looked at the big drift behind her car. “Lots of work if you ask me. Burt always does this, but he had surgery last week. That means I’m on deck.”

Junior nodded. He really needed to get going if he was going to see Jesus, but he stopped. “Here, Mrs. Trombley. Give me that.” Junior took the snow shovel. It took a while to dig out the car and shovel the walk while Mrs. Trombley went back inside to tend Burt. Junior left the snow shovel next to the front door and hurried off to continue his search.

Outside the church, Junior saw Christine Lebowski. She had been the prettiest girl in his high school class. A cheerleader, too. She had married the captain of the football team, but Junior wasn’t invited to the wedding. In fact, Christine and her friends had sometimes made fun of Junior. They called him the ‘tard and poked fun at his round belly which, as a child, bore a striking resemblance to Winnie the Pooh’s.

Christine was pushing a stroller, the lightweight, folding kind that you use in the summer months. There was a chubby baby inside that was every bit as blonde and blue-eyed as Christine. The baby looked happy, but Christine did not. In fact, she looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. She had a soggy Kleenex clenched in one hand. Junior had never seen Christine cry.

Junior followed Christine into the church. There she turned right, into the food pantry. Junior really needed to look for Jesus, but the fact that Christine Lebowski was crying tugged at his tender heart. He watched out of the corner of his eye while Christine took the baby out of the stroller and strapped it across her chest into one of those Snugli carriers while the food pantry volunteers loaded up her stroller with bags of food. As Christine shoved the overloaded stroller over the threshold and back outside, Junior heard an alarming, “Crack!” The stroller collapsed, sending groceries everywhere. Christine was really crying now.

Junior stepped up. “Hey, Christine.”

The sad woman looked around, noticing for the first time that Junior was there. “Uh, Junior. Sorry, I’ve made a big mess.”

Junior bent down and gathered the groceries back into their shopping bags. The bags were heavy and Christine with her baby didn’t look like any match for the load.

“I can help.” Junior said. That made Christine cry even more. He walked them home. Junior was surprisingly strong from his work at the dairy, but even he had to stop a few times to rebalance the load.

 Along the way, Christine told him that she was alone now. Her husband said he didn’t want to be tied down with a baby. She was working at the Ron Dack Market when her Mom could watch the baby, but some months that just wasn’t enough. Junior just listened. At the door to her apartment, Christine said, “Gee, Junior. You are my knight in shining armor today.” This made Junior blush.

It was already early afternoon, but if Junior hurried, he could make it for the free lunch at the Good News Café. He arrived just as Tubby Mitchell was locking up.

“Junior!” the older man said, “You are my last customer today.” Tubby loaded up a plate with mashed potatoes, ham, green beans, and a generous slab of sheet cake.  Junior ate with gusto, telling Tubby between bites all about his dream.

“Have you seen Jesus, Tubby?” Junior wanted to know.

Tubby looked out the window with a far away look in his eyes and sighed. “You know, Junior, I see him most days.”

This amazed Junior. “Jeezum Crow, Tubby! Really?”

Tubby smiled sadly, “Yup. I think I served him lunch about twenty minutes ago. If you hurry, you might catch him.” He nodded up the street, toward the center of town.

Junior pushed most of his cake into his mouth then pulled on his down coat and woolen cap. Tubby wound Junior’s scarf around his short neck while Junior jammed his hands into his mittens. “Oh boy! Thanks, Tubby!” Junior shouted over his shoulder as he dashed off up the street.

But Junior didn’t see Jesus or God almighty or even an angel. Dejected, he sat on a bench at the busy intersection in the center of town. Junior watched every car and inspected every pedestrian, hoping for a glimpse of the Lord.

The only thing of interest was Hank Tebow, who was always interesting. In the summer months, Hank wielded a spray bottle of Windex and a squeegee to make some easy money by washing the windshields of tourists while they idled at the light. In winter months, Hank wore big insulated coveralls and mostly just watched what passed for traffic in the village. Some days were bad, and he would yell at the cars until the police moved him along. Other days, like today, Hank dispensed jokes, the kind a six-year-old might tell.

“Hey, Junior! Knock, knock!”

Junior generally like this kind of joke, “Who’s there?”

“Snow.”

“Snow who?”

“Snow use. I forgot my name again!”

Junior laughed, “Good one, Hank.”

Junior resumed his search for Jesus while Hank scrounged a few cigarette butts from the sidewalk and tried unsuccessfully to share his jokes with pedestrians hurrying past. Junior noticed that Hank didn’t have any gloves or mittens. His hands were stained with nicotine and his nails were grimy, like Junior’s after a morning of work with the animals at the dairy. Hank’s bald head was hatless and his wispy beard didn’t seem to offer much protection for his face. Already the shadows were getting long. Junior would go to his parents for dinner, but Hank would probably be out there for hours. Junior stood up. He unwound the scarf, pulled the hat from his head, and yanked off his mittens. He tugged his coat sleeves down to cover his bare hands.

“Hey, Hank!” He yelled, “Knock, knock!”

Delighted that someone would join him in a little fun, Hank hurried over, “Who’s there?”

“Tank.”

“Tank who?”

“You’re welcome!” Junior said as he pushed his warm knitwear into Hank’s hands. They did some more laughing and Junior left. It was starting to get dark as Junior walked to his parents’ house. He had seen plenty of people that day, but where was Jesus?

The next morning, Junior arrived early at church. He knocked on Pastor Bob’s study door, then let himself in. He took a dejected seat on the couch. Bob stopped what he was doing.

“So, how did the Jesus hunt go, Junior?”

“Not so good.” Looking disappointed, Junior told Bob all about his day.

Bob listened and then chose his words carefully, “You know, Junior, I suspect that you saw plenty of Jesus yesterday.”

“Huh?”

“And Junior, I suspect that all those people you helped, they saw Jesus, too.”

Junior’s brow creased in concentration. “I need to think about that,” he said, rising from his seat and venturing out into the hallway.

At the door, Junior turned back, “How about you, Pastor Bob? Did Jesus help you with your sermon?”

Bob laughed, “Well, he sent his Holy Spirit to help me out. I expect we’ll do just fine.”

While Bob finished up his prayers of the people, Junior Miller found a quiet place to think.

This story was inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s classic work of short fiction, “Where Love Is, There God Is Also.”

Matthew 25:31-46

31“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ 37Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ 41Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ 45Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

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Lamps Lit

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Lamps Lit” Matthew 25:1-13

We don’t like to wait. It can make us feel grouchy, frustrated, annoyed, and bored. Americans spend an average of thirty-two minutes waiting at the doctor’s office, twenty-eight minutes waiting at airport security, and twenty-one minutes waiting for our significant other to get ready to go out. All that waiting adds up. As a nation, Americans spend thirty-seven billion hours waiting in line each year. The bad news is that New York state has the longest waiting times in the country. A survey of twenty-five New York communities found that our average wait time in stores is six minutes and fifty-one seconds. That sounds about right. The worse news is that our patience is growing shorter as digital technology, like smart phones and on-demand streaming services, lead us to expect instant gratification. The average person grows frustrated after waiting sixteen seconds for a webpage to load or twenty-five seconds for a traffic signal to change. Does any of this sound familiar?

Our gospel reading today reveals that the struggle to wait isn’t limited to twenty-first century New York. Jesus told this parable of the Ten Bridesmaids to his disciples as they gathered one evening on the Mt. of Olives, overlooking Jerusalem.  It was the final week of Jesus’ earthly life.  Powerful enemies in Jerusalem were conspiring to bring about his arrest and execution.  Jesus knew what awaited him at the end of the week, even if his friends were unwilling to accept it.  And so, he told a story of a wedding banquet too long in coming and bridesmaids who missed out on the celebration.

In Jesus’s day, when a young girl reached marriageable age, her parents would seek an appropriate bridegroom.  First, a contract, stating terms of the dowry, would be agreed upon.  Then, at the end of a year-long engagement, the bridegroom would collect his bride, paying her parents the bride price and bringing his new wife home to the house of his father.  On the blessed night of the wedding, bridesmaids waited at the father’s house.  With lamps lit, they would go forth singing and rejoicing, leading the couple to the marriage tent, where their wedding vows would be consecrated.  After the wedding, a festive weeklong party began.

In Jesus’ story, the wedding party didn’t go according to plan. The groom was delayed. As the long hours dragged on after dark and the bridesmaids waited, they fell asleep and their lamps burned low.  When the shout at last went up, “The bridegroom is near!”, the maids rose to tend their flames, but only half the girls had anticipated the wait and brought extra oil.  While five maids went out with glowing lamps to rejoice with the wedding party, the others ran off to bang on the door of the local oil merchant.  When they returned to the father’s house, it was too late. The door was closed and there would be no late entries.

This is not my favorite parable. For one thing, it takes a lot of explaining. For another, I’d like to soften its sharp edges.  Let there be a super-abundance of oil to share.  Let the bridegroom throw open the doors and welcome the latecomers to the party. But Jesus knew that his story required sharp and uncomfortable edges to get our attention. We can bet that every disciple who listened to Jesus on the Mt. of Olives sat up straight and opened their ears.

In Jesus’ day, the wedding feast was a common metaphor for the beautiful feast of the Kingdom of God that would come at the end times.  Jesus’s friends knew Jesus was the bridegroom, the Messiah, sent to usher in a new age of righteousness and holy living.  But there would be no wedding feast that week.  Instead of a wedding procession of joyful bridesmaids with lamps aglow, there would be a funeral procession.  Jesus, beaten, bloody, and broken, would be paraded through the streets to his brutal execution.

Jesus hoped that his friends would live with a sense of urgent patience, even after he would be taken from them. God’s Kingdom would come, even after long delay. Jesus hoped his friends would live like those five wise bridesmaids, well-equipped and ready to serve, even if the shout went up at midnight. The disciples, who listened to Jesus and looked out across the Kidron Valley to the holy city, glowing with the light of thousands of household lamps, would have heard Jesus’ story as a bold exhortation to wait with patience and vigilance through the long years to come.

One of the great challenges of preaching this parable is that people like us don’t have a sense of expectant urgency when it comes to Judgment Day. We leave that to the evangelicals, and even they don’t do it very well. We don’t wake up each morning, wondering if this is it, if the Lord will come in glory. We struggle to have a teaching like this feel relevant and useful for faithful living. We don’t like to wait six minutes and fifty-one seconds at the grocery. We can’t be bothered to waste our time looking at the apocalyptic clock, waiting for it to strike midnight.

But what if this parable isn’t just about Judgment Day? After all, in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus begins his ministry with the warning that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near. Professor Dirk Lange, who serves as assistant general secretary at the Lutheran World Federation, teaches that Jesus’s return is a “now” event. Let me explain. The appearance of the risen Lord on the Emmaus Road was a true experience of Christ’s return. Our monthly celebration of the Lord’s Supper is an ongoing wedding banquet with Jesus at the table. The vulnerable people whom we encounter—Jesus called them the least of these, his little brothers and sisters—they are an ongoing revelation of the Jesus who walks among us, inviting our compassion and help. Perhaps the question for our faithful waiting isn’t, “Is this the Day of Judgement?” Our question is better phrased, “How will I see Jesus today? Will I be ready to serve him? Will my lamp be lit?”

I’m going to suggest three ways that we can keep our lamps lit in this waiting time. Are you ready?

We begin by spending daily time with Jesus. We place him at the center of our lives with a faithful pattern of prayer and devotion. We deepen our understanding through reading scripture and spiritual writing. We praise him through worship and song. Those daily attentions in this waiting time assure us that the Lord is always with us, if only we will attend.

We can also take the time to see the Jesus who is revealed in vulnerability in the world around us. We see him at the Food Pantry picking up his monthly box. She awaits our visit in the corridors of assisted living and nursing homes.  He’s learning about Jesus in Sunday School.  She looks out her window and watches us head to church, wondering if we will ever invite her to join us. The bridegroom is near if we will only have eyes to see him.

Jesus’s parable suggests that it is not enough for us to patiently wait. We also need to be prepared for action. The wise bridesmaids heard the cry and leapt up to trim their wicks, fill their lamps, and greet the bridegroom. Will we shine our light before others (Mt. 5:16)? Carla Works, a New Testament scholar at Wesley Theological Seminary, says that, “To live in vigilance means for disciples to do the tasks that they have been appointed in preparation for the Master’s coming.” We know what we are called to do, but will we do it? Will we feed hungry people? Will we visit those who need our love? Will we teach Sunday School? Will we invite a friend or neighbor to church? Are our lamps lit? How will we greet the bridegroom?

I suspect that even if we heed Jesus’s difficult teaching, we still won’t like waiting. We’ll still grow grouchy, frustrated, annoyed, and bored as we wait in line at the grocery store. That’s because researchers say that the human attention span is a whopping eight seconds, one second shorter than that of a goldfish. But our waiting can be transformed as we pray for others and take time to attend to the hidden Jesus who walks among us still. Perhaps this world can look a little more like the promised Kingdom of Heaven if we keep our lamps lit and shine that light before others.

Resources

“How Much Time of an Average Life Is Spent Waiting?” in Reference, Science and Technology, April 3, 2020. Accessed online at https://www.reference.com/science-technology/much-time-average-life-spent-waiting-7b315c05172d2b4d

John Anderer. “Hurry up! Modern patience thresholds lower than ever before, technology to blame” in Study Finds, Sept. 3, 2019. Accessed online at https://studyfinds.org/hurry-up-modern-patience-thresholds-lower-than-ever-before-survey-finds/

Carla Works, “Commentary on Matthew 25:1-13” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 6, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Dirk Lange, “Commentary on Matthew 25:1-13” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 9, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org. Greg Carey, “Commentary on Matthew 25:1-13” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 9, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 25:1-13

“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 2Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 3When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. 6But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ 7Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. 8The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ 10And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. 11Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ 12But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ 13Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

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