Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, "The Hard Way," 2 Kings 5:1-14 (Proper 9C, Ordinary 14C)

Sermon 7/3/22

2 Kings 5:1-14

The Hard Way

I’ve been thinking about the way we talk about whether the situations we experience in life are hard or easy and what kind of value we place on those words. For example, sometimes we talk with disdain about someone trying to “take the easy way out.” Or we might say, “Oh, that person had it so easy.” Right now, for example, I’m preparing for some exams in my schoolwork, and I feel like it has been a lot of work. But there are some students (including my roommate)  in a different area of my program,  - the people who are in Biblical Studies - and their exam structure is much different than my area’s exams. And I will admit I’ve said something along the lines of “you have it so easy” to my roommate. On the other hand, we might say, “hey, take it easy!” if someone is getting too angry about something, or giving someone else a hard time. We might say, “go easy on them!” if we fear someone will give another person too severe of a reprimand or punishment. We talk about the value of hard work and hard workers. But we also sometimes find ourselves wondering at someone: why do you have to do everything the hard way? When we see someone making a situation complicated that could have been very easy, we’re baffled. I think of my mom: she has a terrible sense of direction. But she can memorize how to get from one place to another. But she can’t connect the different sets of directions she’s learned. So sometimes she’ll drive from point A to point B - a path she knows - and then from point B to point C - another path she knows - when it actually would have been much faster and simpler and easier - to go directly from point A to point C. I’d say she’s doing things the hard way. Of course, for my mom, navigating a new path is the hard way, and going on a path she’s memorized, even if it is longer, is the easy way. Either way, it seems we don’t have a clear or consistent sense of whether we think people should be trying to do things the easy way or the hard way. Are they foolish for making things harder than they need to be? Or lazy for trying to take the easy way out? We don’t seem to know. 

I’ve been thinking about the hard way and the easy way as I studied our scripture text for today. In the book of 2 Kings, a history book of the Bible, we read about a man named Naaman. Naaman was a commander in the army of the king of Aram. Aram was an enemy of Israel, and the Arameans have caused a lot of “violence, loss of life, homes, and livelihood, and untold suffering to the people of Israel.” (1) Naaman, as their army’s commander, would have been disliked and feared, to put it mildly. 

Naaman, we read, has leprosy. Leprosy is a word used in the Bible to describe several kinds of diseases, especially skin diseases. You might remember that in the gospels, Jesus heals lepers, who were sometimes ostracized from society, considered unclean because of their disease. But that kind of isolation, separation from community usually only happened in advanced stages. (2) Although Naaman has leprosy, it hasn’t yet kept him isolated from society. Still, he suffers from his disease. 

And then, an unexpected figure intervenes: a child, a young Israelite girl, who has been captured and enslaved by the Arameans, is a servant to Naaman’s wife. As with so many women in the Bible, we don’t learn this young girl’s name. But, despite her circumstances, she speaks up with boldness, telling Naaman’s wife that there is a prophet in Samaria who could cure Naaman’s leprosy. In other words: in the lands where she came from, in the lands where Naaman has been leading violent acts of war, there is someone who could cure Naaman. A cure is at hand - but what a hard way to have to get it - from your enemy! 

Still, Naaman seizes the opportunity. He tells the king what the young girl has said, and the king sends Naaman and a letter to the king of Israel, along with a hefty “payment” - silver and gold and supplies. In the letter, the king of Aram asks the king of Israel to cure Naaman’s leprosy. 

Receiving the letter, the king of Israel seems to feel helpless. He, the king, cannot heal Naaman, and he feels like the king of Aram is trying to start a fight. The king of Israel seems to dread that this is all some ruse for further acts of military aggression against Israel. But Elisha, a prophet of God, hears about the letter. Elisha is the successor to the prophet Elijah, and he, like Elijah, is known for his relationship with God, for his ability to demonstrate God’s power and authority. Elisha tells the king to have Naaman sent to him. So, Naaman and his entourage and all the gifts from the king of Aram locate to Elisha’s front entrance - but they don’t go in. And Elisha doesn’t come out Perhaps Elisha, though ready to act in his role as prophet - doesn’t want to invite someone who has harmed the Israelites so deeply into his home. (2) And perhaps Naaman is not eager to show himself in a position of weakness, and doesn’t want to have to be a “guest” inside Elisha’s house, relying on Elisha’s hospitality. So even though Naaman is at Elisha’s door, Elisha sends word to Naaman through a messenger. Elisha says, “wash in the Jordan river seven times, and you’ll be clean, you’ll be healed.” 

Rather than rejoicing at this news of a cure, Naaman is angry. He’s angry that Elisha didn’t come out to speak to him, angry that there was no spectacle where Elisah called on his God, and waved his arms around to make a cure. He’s angry that Elisha seems to imply the waters in Israel are curing, but not the waters of Aram. He’s enraged. He’s ready to leave, uncured, unwilling to try. But his servants boldly speak up. They say to him, “if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, “Wash, and be clean”?” In other words, “why are you making things so hard?” Naaman finally concedes. He goes to the Jordan, washes seven times, and, just as Elisha says, he is healed completely. 

That’s where our text ends, although there is more to the story that you can read in the rest of chapter 5. Naaman commits to worshiping Elisha’s God, and wants Elisha to accept all the gifts he has brought. Elisha refuses any payment but sends Naaman in peace. However, a servant of Elisha’s named Gehazi is filled with greed, upset that Elisha let Naaman off so easy without taking any of the gifts Naaman brought. He tricks Naaman into giving him some of the items after all, and when Elisha finds out about the deception, he curses Gehazi with the leprosy that once clung to Naaman.  

When I read this story, I’m struck by how Naaman was sure that the means for his healing had to be complicated and difficult. And I think he was sure of that for two reasons: first, I think Naaman believes that someone of his status - a prestigious military leader - someone of his status would “deserve” a complicated healing ritual, complex and dazzling and befitting of his importance. Surely, he should have to do something special that “ordinary people” wouldn’t have to do. And second, and perhaps more importantly, I think Naaman has this idea that God makes us “jump through hoops,” so to speak, in order to receive healing, wholeness, salvation. Surely, God can’t just offer something as a gift without strings attached! So Naaman can’t believe that he can be healed of something that has plagued him for so long because this God that Elisha serves is more generous that Naaman can understand. 

What about you? What about us? I wonder if we’re so different from Naaman. Sure, hopefully we don’t believe that we’re so special that we require God to work for us only through dazzling displays of power. But I think we, too, sometimes can’t believe that God is ready to be so easily generous with us, especially when we feel undeserving of God’s generosity. I think when we’re tempted to make bargains and engage in mental negotiations with God, if we could just get God to do what we want, we’re choosing the “hard way.” We’re imagining that we have to manipulate and persuade God into doing what we want. Instead, God seeks to do not necessarily what we want, but that which will bring us life, abundance, wholeness, peace, and joy, and God wants to do it out of love, goodness, and generosity. The “easy way” with God is to trust God and put our lives and hearts into God’s hands. So often, though, we make things harder, expecting God to behave in the same sort of ways we act with each other, always keeping track of status and position and power. 

The other aspect of this text that strikes me is how we see power and status at work throughout the story. We have two kings, a general, a prophet, and several servants, including a young captive girl far from home. The king of Israel, leader of a nation, expresses his sense of powerlessness. What could he do to help? He can only lament that he is not God - he doesn’t have God’s powers, and without that, he sees nothing he can do to help. He only sees potential danger, despite an enemy seeking aid from him. On the other hand, anonymous servants, unnamed, who should be the people with the least power, are the ones who make almost everything in this story happen. Naaman only accepted the “easy way” of healing offered to him by Elisha because of his servants boldly speaking up. And of course, he only knew about it because of an enslaved child. I’m not sure what motivation they all had for helping Naaman. Naaman wouldn’t have known what he was missing. But even though they seem to be “powerless,” despite their low status, these servants, this young girl - they are the reason that Naaman is healed. Sure, Elisha offers the healing treatment. And yes, God is the healer. But in this story, the servants are the ones with the wisdom, and the kings and typically powerful leaders are the ones who seem afraid and helpless. 

When we are feeling powerless, unable to change the world around us that seems so very broken, what if we remembered this young girl, who despite her status, claims her agency and takes action? And what if, when we’re sure that we have the power and status and know what’s best, we learned to listen to wisdom from those who usually get overlooked? After all, that’s the way of Jesus, who teaches that the first is last and last is first, the exalted are humbled and humbled are exalted. In our broken world, whose voices have we been drowning out? Whose voices, whose wisdom, should we be listening to? In what unexpected places can we find the voice of God, speaking through others? Who has knowledge and wisdom that could help us draw closer to God? What are we missing out on by only listening to voices at the center, that represent power or status or position? 

The hard way, the easy way. Which way does God want us to take? I don’t think the answer to that is, well, easy. But hopefully our journey with Naaman, Elisha, and these bold, unnamed, but not forgotten servants, helps us to claim both our own wisdom and power, when we need to speak up against injustice, when we need to witness to the ways we see God at work in the world. Hopefully their voices help us to listen for the wisdom and knowledge we’ve overlooked when we put ourselves or figures of power and position at the center and neglect those on the margins. And hopefully, our journey with Naaman and his quest for healing reminds us that we are children of a God who loves us and seeks our thriving, giving to us with generosity and joy. Whether our way is easy or our path is hard, God is with us. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

1. Haslam, Chris, “Comments,” http://montreal.anglican.org/comments/cpr14m.shtml

2. Hawk, L. Daniel, “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14,” The Working Preacher,  https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-14-3/commentary-on-2-kings-51-14-8

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, "Laborers for the Harvest," Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Sermon 7/7/19

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Laborers for the Harvest

We’re sort of between things on our worship calendar right now. We finished up our Holy Club sermon series last week, and in two weeks, we’re starting a series on Fear and being Unafraid that will take us through the rest of the summer. But with some schedule quirks, and adding a special Sunday later this summer when my childhood pastor will come and lead a special music and worship service for us, we were left with a Sunday in between things today. So, without a particular theme or series to guide us, I turned to see what was on the lectionary, the suggested schedule of scripture readings, for worship today. I’ve been serving here for three years now, and the lectionary is a three year cycle, and so the scripture in the lectionary today is the same as it was on my very first Sunday here! I’m sure you all remember my sermon from three years ago, right? Three years ago, I was remarking on how funny it is for new pastors to start their ministries in churches by reading about shaking the dust of their feet if a place isn’t welcoming to them and their message! 

But when I flipped to the gospel text this time, I got stuck right at the start of the text. Jesus sends out 70 followers to places he plans to go eventually too to preach and teach, and encourages these 70 to start sharing the good news that the reign of God has come near, building relationships with people, curing their sick. But before he sends them out, he says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” And I thought, “Yes. That’s it. Please God, we need more. The laborers are few. We need more.” 

I’ll be honest: I’ve been worried. Worship attendance has been down lately, and summer typically marks an even smaller crowd, as all of us, myself included, spend more time traveling for one reason or another in the summer. Giving to the General Fund, our “regular giving,” has been down. We’ve been struggling to meet out expenses earlier in the year this year than the year before. It’s a bit stressful. And between those two factors: lower giving, and lower attendance, I find that my mind is a swirl of questions: What’s changing? What’s changed? What do we need to fix? What are we missing? And although I also have lots of thoughts about how to answer those questions, still, when I read the opening verses of my text, my gut reaction was “Yes, God, please send us more. We need some more laborers. We need more resources and more people. Jesus said we should ask, and I’m asking: please send us some more!” 

In the midst of my anxious response to this text, I read a devotional reflection by David Lose about this passage on his blog, In the Meantime. You know he’s one of my favorite preachers, and he didn’t disappoint. He wrote, 

“Reading this passage nearly 2000 years after the Christian Church first got going, it’s easy to miss the rather shocking audacity of Jesus’ statement: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”

“Really, Jesus? Earlier he talked about how he has nowhere to rest his head, all kinds of folks have made excuses about why they’re not joining him, he’s been rejected by a whole town, and he’s on the way to Jerusalem where he has already said – twice! – that he fully expects to be rejected again, betrayed, and handed over to death.

“So in what way, shape, or form, his companions might wonder, is the harvest plentiful?!

“But here again we encounter Jesus’ “kingdom logic,” a way of looking at life and the world that stands in such contrast to the usual measures and calculations that it seems nearly ludicrous by comparison.

“So why does Jesus’ say the harvest is plentiful? Simply because he sees people in need. Note his instructions to his disciples. They are to share in the hospitality of the homes opened to them and while visiting focus on the needs of those around them, healing their sick, proclaiming hope, and announcing God’s blessing.

“If we look around today we might make one of two assessments. If we look to statistics about church growth, we’re likely to despair and assume that the harvest has withered on the vine and that our best days are behind us. But if we look to statistics – and stories – of people in need, then we realize immediately that there has never been a better time for the church to be the community of Jesus, reaching out in blessing and good news to heal the sick, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, and befriend the lonely. There are more people – quite literally – who need to hear of God’s grace and be touched by God’s love than ever before. And we are the people called to be laborers in this harvest.” (http://www.davidlose.net/2013/10/luke-10-1-12/)

I want to read that last part again: “There has never been a better time for the church to be the community of Jesus, reaching out in blessing and good news to heal the sick, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, and befriend the lonely ... We are the people called to be laborers in this harvest.” (emphasis mine) Lose helped me be reminded of words that I have shared with you all before, what I know to be true: communities of faith that turn in on themselves, that start focusing only on themselves and what they need to get along are the ones in trouble. But when communities of faith stay turned out outward, focusing on serving others, they thrive, and what’s more, they’re fulfilling the mission and purpose of Jesus in the world. 

When Jesus tells his 70 followers that they need to ask God to send laborers into the harvest, he essentially immediately answers his own request, by sending these 70 folks in pairs out into the towns to do the work of the harvest: he tells them to eat with people, cure the sick, and tell them: “God’s reign has come near to you!” But you can see how urgent Jesus thinks the task is. It is so urgent that he tells them, “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.” In other words, they need to get to their task more than they need to pack, more than they need to take a leisurely time getting to their destination, greeting everyone along the way. The most important thing is getting to the towns, meeting people, and telling them that they don’t have to wait to experience the closeness of God for death, for afterlife, for heaven. They don’t have to wait until they can get close to God’s home - God’s home, God’s reign, God’s way of things has come to them, if they’ll only welcome it. 

Jesus both wants to pray for laborers for the harvest, and he thinks they have plenty enough laborers already to do some pretty amazing work in the name of God. I think that’s true for us, too. I’m praying and wondering and planning and praying some more about laborers for the harvest, about asking God to show us how we can be best equipped with people and resources for the ministry to which God calls us. But I’m also giving thanks because of what God has already supplied us with as we harvest. We have generous congregants, even when we face challenges, who have, just in the last year, with folks from First UMC and North Gouverneur: put on benefits for those struggling with illness, collected donations from the community to buy school supplies, gathered and distributed school supplies to so many families, fed hundreds of people in the community on a weekly basis, gathered donations for people in recovery who feel like no one cares about them, built and kept filled a blessing box to meet some emergency food needs in the community, sent cards, given rides, and visited people who are ill and homebound, brought the good news about Jesus and God’s grace to people in prison, donated and volunteered for Vacation Bible School, provided scholarship money for kids to attend camp, bought Christmas presents for several families in the community, given Christmas and Easter offerings to support fire victims, support our local hospital, support relief efforts and community building in Haiti and Puerto Rico, supported Special Sunday offerings that help us reach beyond our local community to the world beyond, sung Christmas Carols to people in need of some cheer, and more - I know I’m forgetting things. It’s not that we need to brag on ourselves. It’s that we need reminding - at least I do - that we have laborers already, even if we wish we had more. 

The specific thing Jesus tells the 70 to pray for is that those laborers would be sent out. He doesn’t ask for more exactly. He just tells them to ask that the laborers get sent out. And then he sends them out! So we’re praying sometimes for more: more people, more resources. But I think Jesus is telling us that we are the resources. And he’s asking us to pray that our resources get put to use. And then he’s telling us he’s ready, right now, for just that to happen: he’s ready to put us to use. Because, as Lose reminded us, “there has never been a better time for the church to be the community of Jesus.” The harvest - the people so needing to be gathered up by God? The people who so need to experience the forgiveness and love and patience and challenge and hope and joy of God - they’ve never been in more abundance than they are right now. We are God’s resources. We are the messengers. We are the ones sent. We are the laborers. Sometimes we feel like we are too few. But Jesus sees enough of us to send out to change the world. Hurry! We’ve got a plentiful harvest to start gathering in. Amen. 

Sermon for Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, "Missional: Needy," Luke 7:36-50 (Proper 6C, Ordinary 11C)

Sermon 6/11/16

Luke 7:36-50

Missional: Needy

We talk often about how Jesus goes out of his way to eat with sinners and tax collectors and other people who are on the fringes, who are disliked, who are rejected by well-mannered well-behaved folks. But Jesus also ate with people who were in the thick of it, right in the center of society. You have to give some credit to Pharisees who invited Jesus for a meal, because Jesus didn’t hesitate to say what he thought and stir things up, even if he was your guest for dinner! Would you want Jesus for a dinner guest? What might he say to you, to me I wonder?

Jesus is asked by Simon, a Pharisee, a religious scholar and leader in the community, to eat at his home, and he accepts. He takes his place at the table, and a woman, identified only as “a sinner,” learning where Jesus was, comes with an alabaster jar of ointment. We’re not told what her sin is. Although history has often called her a prostitute, there’s nothing in the text to suggest it. She stood behind Jesus, at his feet. He would have been reclining, almost on a sofa-type seat, the traditional manner of dining. And weeping, she begins to bathe his feet with her tears, kissing his feet, anointing them with ointment. Simon watches and thinks to himself, “If Jesus was really a prophet, he’d know that the woman he is letting touch him this way is a sinner.” Simon apparently knows her, knows her sins. Jesus speaks up. “Simon, I have something to say to you. A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answers, “I supposed the one for whom he cancelled the greater debt.” You can hear the reluctance as he answers, as he guesses he’s been trapped. Indeed, Jesus tells Simon he has judged rightly, and goes on to compare how he was welcomed by the woman versus how he was welcomed by Simon. Simon gave him no water for his feet, a courtesy for travelers on dusty roads, but the woman anointed his feet with tears, hair, ointment. Simon gave no kiss in greeting, but the woman is unrelenting in kissing Jesus’ feet, a sign of extreme humility. Jesus concludes, “her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” He tells the woman that her sins are forgiven and that her faith has saved her, and he sends her off in peace. Meanwhile, the rest of those at dinner grumble, wondering at a man who dares to offer forgiveness for sins.

“Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” Does this mean that the worse we are, the greater sins we commit, the more potential to love Jesus we have? Can that possibly be what he means? How much forgiveness do we need? How much do we need from Jesus? Yes, forgiveness. But as much as the woman in this story, who is known as a sinner? Has a reputation for it? If we’ve managed to get through life without having a reputation for being a bad egg, we can’t need as much forgiven as this woman, right? So then how can we ever hope to love Jesus as she seems to?

I started thinking this week about what it means to be in need of something, and how we talk about neediness, and how it makes us feel. Would you consider yourself a needy person, or not? We might call someone needy if they have financial need. Poor people are needy, we might say. Is that a positive or negative term? If we apply the word needy to other situations, the results suggest neediness is not value-free: it’s has a negative connotation. If someone is needy in a relationship, generally we mean that in a bad way. We mean that they’re clingy. That they demand too much attention, time, energy. I think that there are few if any areas in our life where we’d like to be classified as needy. Do you like being needy? How comfortable are you being on the receiving end of assistance? The receiving end of a helping hand? The receiving end of gifts when it isn’t Christmas, or your birthday, or your party? How much would you like to be considered someone who always needs extra attention, extra help?

“I want to do it myself!” Any of you that have experience with young children probably know that small children reach a point in their development where they are experimenting with and pushing the boundaries of their independence. When Sam was about three, he went through this period when no matter what the task was, Sam would refuse help of any kind. If he was trying to get dressed, he didn’t want your help, even though it took him forever to get his clothing on the right direction the right side out. Particularly frustrating was his desire to get in and out of his car seat in the car on his own – it would take him several minutes, when you, the parent or aunt or grandma knew that you could just pick him up and put him in the seat in five seconds. Sam has long grown past this particular stage now, but I can still perfectly hear his voice and tone and picture his expression, “I just want to do it myself!”

        Of course, adults aren’t much better, are they? Many of you know that my mom, who is slowly becoming a bionic woman, has been through many surgeries – rotator-cuff, two knee replacements, two ankle fusions. The ankle fusion, a surgery that failed the first time and had to be repeated, was particularly hard, as my mom was in a non-weight bearing cast for months, and with her previous shoulder injury, she also couldn’t use crutches. That meant she worked with a walker and a wheelchair. My mom, a nurse for 30 years, is a horrible patient, as folks who work in the medical field generally are in my experience! She wouldn’t let anyone help her up the stairs when she got home from the hospital, resulting in several of us hovering around her uselessly while she scooted up the stairs, sweating profusely with the effort. She fell in the bathroom the first morning after being home, because she was trying to do a little rearranging in one of the bathroom cupboards while balancing on one foot. And when I took her out to a craft show, and tried to push her through the crowd in a wheelchair, I realized it wasn’t working because she couldn’t stop trying to steer, even though I told her it was actually making it harder, not easier to navigate. Two people trying to steer one object works just about as well as it sounds. It doesn’t work. Mom, not unlike Sam, just wanted to do it herself.

I can’t claim that I’m much better. I much prefer to be the one helping than to be the one being helped. I’ve had times in my life, for example, when I’ve been able to offer financial support to others I care about, and times in my life when I’ve had to ask for financial help from others. I would much rather be able to be generous with my money than have to accept help from someone. I suspect it might be the same for you. I’ve tried to think about why that is. After all, when I give to others, I am not looking for their gratitude, although gratitude is nice. I’m not trying to make someone feel incompetent. I’m not giving with an expectation that I’ll get something back in return. I’m not giving so that I can hold it over them or have power over them. I’m giving because I love to give, I love them, giving because I can, giving because I have empathy for those who are struggling, or because I feel like I have the resources and I want to put them to good use, to do some good with what I have. So why is it so hard to be on the other side? To be the one receiving what is given in love? I think being needy makes us feel weak. Incapable. Small. It hits at our pride, our need to be self-sufficient. We can do it ourselves. We are self-reliant. Self-sufficient. It’s practically the American Dream. We make something of ourselves. Pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps. And not being able to do it - being needy - it’s failing.

When I did my doctoral work and the research project that followed it, I started my work in every congregation with an interview with each participant that would help me establish our starting point. And as I asked people about their understandings of charity and justice, what I found is that nearly every single person I interviewed spoke in terms of themselves as the giver, but never as the receiver. Charity and justice were described in terms of what we could give to them. What we might teach and offer them. The ones who are needy. Which is not us. The few exceptions were primarily from people who themselves had experienced significant periods of poverty as adults. We don’t like and don’t want to be needy.

Except...Jesus says that those of us who are self-sufficient and self-reliant and pulling-ourselves-up and making something of ourselves - those of us who are decidedly not needy - not needy of money, not needy of help, not needy of being lifted up, not needy of anything because we can Do. It. Ourselves. - Jesus says that we love little. Oof.  

I preached on this very text at the Greenhouse in Rochester this past week, the small skilled nursing homes where I’ve served as chaplain. I talked about how hard it is to admit we need help and to let others help us, but of course, I was preaching to the choir. They are experts in experiencing what it is like to need to depend more and more on the assistance of others all the time, and I know it is challenging in ways that are beyond my experience or understanding. Folks there over time need help with going to the bathroom, help bathing themselves, help getting dressed, help feeding themselves, help remembering even who they are sometimes. So needy. And with such great capacity to love. One of my sweetest ladies there - every single day that I saw her would say, again and again: “I am so blessed. I am so blessed.”

Friends, we cannot serve God, we cannot serve Jesus, we cannot truly give to others if all we have to offer is our own strength, our own wisdom, our own stuff, the work of our own hands. Simon loved little not because he was not a sinner too, or because his sins were less than hers, but because he believed himself to be better than her, less of a sinner, less in need of grace. He was so full of himself that there was no need that he could see for forgiveness. And so he had room for none.

Being needy is humbling. Which, as it turns out, is an attitude Christ commends to us. But being needy is only humiliating if we give to others with a sense of our own superiority, and if we believe ourselves to be above it - above need. We all stand in need of God’s grace. And God is so eagerly offering it to us. Can you receive what God is offering? Can you admit your need? Jesus said, “Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” Humble us, God. Amen.