Monday, August 15, 2016

Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on August 7, 2016
Scripture text: Luke 12: 32-48

The Second Law of Thermodynamics in Physics states that the entropy (or level of disorder) in a system can only increase unless it is worked upon by an outside force. In other words, things, if left to themselves, will grow steadily more disordered until they fall apart completely. This is underlying basis of the idea of the heat death of the universe, where all things become so disordered that everything essentially ceases to exist.

From MDPI.com

To hear the supposed-experts, or even our own guts, tell it, there is a “second law” for society as well and it certainly seems to be in overdrive of late. The world is falling apart. Crime, disease, terrorism, bigotry, economic instability, Donald Trump running for President (or Hillary for that matter)! Everything’s falling apart. So much so that I’ve been seeing bumper stickers for the upcoming presidential election that say “Giant Meteor 2016: Just end it already.”

I suspect that the other 95% of the world’s population would not much appreciate this hunger for total destruction, but, joke or not, there is a real and growing sense of desperation in our society. Everything seems to be getting worse. Life is out of our control. And there is an appeal, particularly for people who believe as we do, for the world to end and for God’s plan to come into its fullness.

So let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about the end of the world. And, funnily enough, it happens to be the topic of today’s Gospel lesson.

Of course, a casual read of the text does not lend itself immediately to that conclusion with its talk of selling one’s possessions and not being afraid. What is more scary than the end of the world? Well, getting rid of absolutely everything you own might be up there. Jesus’ talk of building up treasures in heaven seems like a lot of idealistic fluff, nice in theory, but impossible in practice. But then the tone shifts and Jesus begins to speak as if in parable about a household of slaves with a soon-to-be-returning master.

Be dressed for action. Be alert. Be ready. Jesus says. His call is for diligence. But what does that mean exactly? How can one be ready for the return of the Son of Man?

The metaphor goes deeper than you know. What is the duty of a house slave? Well, to take care of the household. They clean. They cook. They keep things in order. They are slaves. They have nothing of their own. Their whole life is dedicated to that house. To that place and to the people who live within it.

And that is what Jesus calls us to be: slaves for his house. Slaves for his world. To care for that place and for the people who live within it. To be diligent in our service to them.

Martin Luther is famously quoted that if he knew the world would end tomorrow, he’d plant a tree today. That’s the attitude of a diligent house slave. My job is to take care of this place and its people. Me, in many ways, I don’t matter. This calling to which I am dedicated is all that matters. So it is with all slaves of the Master.

When the Son of Man returns, he’s not eager to see us so paralyzed with fear and selfishness that the work of the household has not been done. That’s the danger of worrying so much about ourselves, which is precisely why Jesus begins his remarks in this text the way he does. His call for courage and for divestment from our worldly cares is meant to remind us that he is our master and that he will take care of us. With that freedom, we can then care for his own.

A funny thing happens when we start doing the things God has called us to do. When you feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the sick, bring justice to the voiceless, all those scary things in society start to go away. Crime, terrorism, much of these things are born of fear; the fear of abandonment, the fear of desperation. But if people know we are there for them, that we will take care of them, the servants of the Master will serve them in whatever way they truly need, that fear evaporates. As I said at the beginning, the second law of thermodynamics states that disorder increases unless an outside force works upon it. We can be that outside force for our world and bring calm in the midst of chaos.

The trick is to not be afraid ourselves. To remember our calling as the caretakers of this place and its people. That’s how we serve the Master. And it’s how we diligently await his return. But in that remembering, we must also remember what our Master does for us.

Jesus says something very curious in the middle of this passage and it’s an important reminder of how this whole thing works. He starts, as I said, with encouragement: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” But a few sentences later, he shows us what that looks like. “Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; for truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.”

We take care of God’s world and his people and God takes care of us. He gives us the kingdom. What a crazy image that is where the Master serves the servants. But that’s what God does. That’s what Christ came to Earth to do. “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve...” God is not some tyrant who sits on high and passes down edicts that we’re to obey without example. Incarnate in Christ, he lives out the life of a slave, caring for others, taking care of people. Doing himself what he’s asked us to do. He gives everything for the sake of those he serves.

It is not coincidence that, in the end, Christ dies the slave’s death on the cross. He truly does give everything, dying as he lived, in service of others. That is who he calls us to be.

In conclusion, I want to end with a portion of the lyrics from the Michael Card song “The Basin and the Towel.” Today’s text is, of course, not the only place in the Scriptures where Jesus demonstrates his call for us to be slaves for his world. One of the most powerful is in that Upper Room on “the night when he was betrayed.”


Amen.

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