The cry and the crier

21ST SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
(Proper 24C, 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time)
October 17, 2010
Ss. Peter & Paul – 10:00 a.m.
by Fr. Phil Ayers

God of the dispossessed,
you teach us to hunger for justice
even when the weak are shut out
and the powerful turn over in their beds:
in the heat of our anger
and the bitterness of our complaints,
give us the courage to protest,
the persistence to pray,
and the heart to love;
through Jesus Christ, the true judge.

(Steven Shakespeare, Prayers for an Inclusive Church)

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A parable, such as we have before us in today’s Gospel – sometimes called “The Importunate Widow and the Unjust Judge” – is a pearl of wisdom set in a particular context by the evangelists, the gospel-writers, for pastoral purposes. That is, as I try to understand it, for purposes of strengthening the community of Christ. Thomas Keating says we have to remove the jewel from the context in order to get to the heart of the reality proposed by the parable, which shocks us into an experience of who we are and what motivates our conduct. The parables give insight that is not just knowledge, but the knowledge infused by love that Paul keeps referring to in his epistles.


2
Leaving out the context in which Luke places this precious gem, which makes of it an exhortation to pray always and not lose heart, the original meaning of the parable emerges stark and clear.
The outraged widow is not presented as virtuous or having just cause. She was, after all, a product of her time, in which widows got a bum deal: if any money was left by her husband, it went to her sons or to her brothers-in-law. She was, in effect, a charity case. The judge is obviously not impartial or objective. How can the kingdom of God be similar to anything in this rather scandalous situation? If the judge was a professional crook, it would not be so bad. But he is supposed to be a decent man who does justice to people. The fact is he is a wretched man!
We might remember that there were no juries in the time of Jesus so the role of a judge was doubly important. Judging meant adjudicating disputes, hearing complaints fairly, and maintaining harmonious relationships between people. A judge established and guarded shalom – peace, if you will – in the community.
In particular, the Law of Israel instructed the people – and certainly the judges in their midst – to show mercy to widows, orphans, and foreigners. After all, God had been merciful to the Hebrew people while they were in bondage; so they should especially reciprocate this graciousness to the powerless among them. The judge, of all people, would be charged with this responsibility of championing the rights of the dispossessed and the alienated.
3
By these standards, the judge in the parable comes across as completely unfit. He is a backslider - a slacker in keeping the Law. He has lost whatever compunction he had once to champion the poor.
But the widow keeps knocking!!!
We might translate this story into a contemporary scenario. Let us say that there is a judge who is supposed to decide a difficult insurance case. The plaintiff, a widow, who is destitute, sends him two or three letters a day, plus a couple of telegrams, makes innumerable phone calls, endless faxes, and has her friends calling in daily to recommend her cause and demand justice.
When he tries to leave his house or workplace, she accosts him. Regularly she sends him a bouquet of roses with the message, “I’m waiting.”
Finally the judge cannot stand her constant, annoying begging anymore and without considering the merits of the case, decides to give her all that she wants. (One commentator I consulted remarks that what is translated “wearing me out by her continually coming” could well be “so that she won’t give me a black eye”!)
Having concluded the parable, Jesus walks off down the street with his disciples.
With whom can the hearers identify in this parable? Nobody wants to see himself or herself as an unjust judge. Nobody wants to be the destitute widow. Whom can they identify with? That is the crux of the challenge.
4
Parables are mirrors in which we are invited to look at ourselves. We are the unjust judge. The widow represents the kingdom of God – grace that is constantly banging on our door, morning, noon, and night, pleading, “Do me justice.” Or more specifically, “How about spending some time in prayer? How about forgiving your enemy? How about seeking reconciliation with the members of your family? How about helping someone in need?”
So we can take note of the feelings that hinder our relationships, our efforts to forgive and not to judge. Where are they coming from? These are the things that the widow whom Fr. Keating calls “The divine widow” has in mind when she pleads, “Do me justice!” In other words, “Be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate.”
The divine widow keeps pounding on the door of our hearts day after day as, like the unjust judge, we try to put her off. If modern forms of communication can be overwhelming, wait until you encounter how many ways of communicating God can come up with! God approaches us all day long, coming to meet us morning, noon, and night through people, events, and our own thoughts, feelings, memories, and reactions. We accept the kingdom finally, not because we are just or deserve it, but because at some point, like the unjust judge, we cannot stand the pestering of grace anymore and are forced to give in, saying, “Okay, take my life. I am in your hands.”
5
Here at Ss. Peter & Paul, we are invited to live into the thrust of that parable, responding to the persistence of many “divine widows” who won’t go away and constantly remind us of what we are to be about as Christians. They convey the holy and urgent grace of God by their persistence, and even annoyance, at times. We can totally ignore them or we can respond to their invitation in terms of sharing our abundance. (And I think we do have some here in our midst, but they are NOT pests!)
Our parish is a context in which we are put into many relationships with one another. Some we would rather not enter into, but we really must for our soul’s health and the health of the Body of Christ in this place and time. I’m not speaking mysteriously here: more concretely, Ss. Peter & Paul is a place in which I have witnessed an inkling of the Kingdom of God. And it has come about through the people who comprise this community: we spend a lot of our time in prayer, especially in the community’s prayer – the liturgy, the work of the people of God – richly celebrated week by week. We are invited and beckoned to cultivate our spiritual lives, not so that we will climb the ladder of perfection necessarily, but so that we will be equipped to reach out in love and concern for the poor, the needy (of all kinds!), the destitute, the lonely, the bereft, the seekers, the hurting and abused. We are called to forgive one another, called to reconcile divergence.

6 Now the parish invites us to consider how we will, with the gifts God has so richly bestowed upon us, support this community and its life and work and ministry. Last evening many of us were present for “Loaves and Fishes,” a terrific idea that the Vestry came up with; and we got a true taste of what it must have been like on that hillside long ago when loaves and fishes were miraculously multiplied and the fragments left over from the meal were filling many baskets. We all ate, and were satisfied! This isn’t your “normal” or “regular” fall stewardship “pitch.” I take this to mean something far deeper than the annual “Beg-a-Thon” we so often indulge in. (I certainly did that when I was an active parish rector.) Rather, it is an invitation, a call to live holier and deeper lives in Christ, to be truer than we’ve ever been before to the solemn Baptismal Covenant, part of which proclaims to love and serve Christ in every human being, loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Strength and abundance is ours, dear people of God at Ss. Peter & Paul. May we share it, giving gladly and willingly, not just to “keep doors open,” not just “to pay the bills,” not just to “stay afloat” – but to witness clearly to the love of God in Christ as we receive him into our bodies today and at every Mass we celebrate together.
[Ideas from Paula Franck, Thomas Keating and H. K. Oehmig in Synthesis 10/17/10]