In the name of God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
What
will be your legacy? In the final chapter of the pastoral epistle known as 2
Timothy, St. Paul writes “through me the message might be fully proclaimed.”
As I reflected on our readings for today, that one line jumped out at me as I
wondered, “what message am I proclaiming?” When we began hearing from the letters
of 1 & 2 Timothy a few weeks ago, I mentioned that these letter were
written to churches that were already established and were meant to encourage
the believers, keeping them on the right track. 2 Timothy is a letter about
community and passing the faith along to future believers and generations. And
so the sort of message that was being proclaimed was of great importance to
Paul and his audience.
Paul notes that he has been poured out as a libation, and the past several weeks we have read about his persecution and imprisonment as he proclaimed the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But as we all know, there is much more that we could proclaim. Perhaps you proclaim your favorite collegiate team after that big win yesterday. Perhaps you proclaim that neat new piece of technology that you bought by telling everyone about it. Or perhaps more subtly, you proclaim capitalism with the way you spend money or racism by the way you look at people. Or do you proclaim yourself. We’re told that we’re supposed to be self-confident, and anyone that has ever had to run for an elected position or apply for a job knows that it’s an exercise in self-proclamation.
Social media makes it
even worse. As helpful a tool as Facebook can be, it is no different than the pool
at which Narcissus had his soul die. If you spend any time on Facebook, you’ll immediately
realize that everyone focuses on self-proclamation based on the way they select
only the best and coolest looking profile photo, and the majority of posts are about
proclaiming ourselves so that we appear to be the hero, whether for good or for
ill. And Facebook gives us so many new
things to proclaim- with photos galore of pets and dinner plates.
But as Paul closes his
letter he proclaims “to God be the glory forever and ever!” Is this our loudest
proclamation? Or do we proclaim something else with our decisions and
lifestyle? Consider our gospel passage today; we are presented with two very different
sorts of proclamations. At first, we encounter a Pharisee. And I’d like to
point out that in this case, tone matters. Did he say “God, I thank you that I
am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector”
as if he were better than them? Or did he say “God, I thank you that I am not
like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector”
as if he were truly thanking God for the individual and unique unit of God’s
grace that he is? Judging on Jesus’ interpretation of the parable, perhaps he
didn’t say it with purest heart, but we should be careful to not cast judgment
on him.
The other character in
the parable, the tax collector, proclaims “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
The Pharisee proclaimed confidence, boldness before God, and probably some
smugness too. The tax collector proclaims the wretched state of his soul, his total
depravity, and a bit of despair. The first found righteousness and
justification within himself and his own actions, while the second realized
that these things come from God. What do we proclaim? What do our prayers
proclaim about God? Do our prayers proclaim a God that is quick to anger or
quick to forgive? Does God have a saving hand or a chastening hand? Do our
prayers proclaim our love and devotion to God? It’s something to consider.
As Jesus delivers the moral
of the story, he relays that “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all
who humble themselves will be exalted.” If we are to proclaim God above
ourselves, Jesus knows that we will have to be humble. A large part of the
reason why the new Pope, Francis, is so well regarded is because he has become
known for his humble spirit. He has rustled the feathers of some and pushed the
boundaries of Rome through his proclamation of God above all, even the Church. He
hasn’t gotten caught up in the temptation to see himself as the most
influential and important person on the planet.
Now that I’m a parent,
there is a whole new genre of literature which I am reading; and it’s not just Caps for Sale or If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, but I’ve read some on the
psychological and sociological elements of parenting. I was raised in a
generation known for being “praise-junkies.” Like most of my peers, I could do
no wrong in my parents’ eyes. I got trophies for participation and tokens at
Chuck-E-Cheese’s for A’s on my report cards. I was taught “you can do anything that
you put your mind to.” And, thankfully, parenting literature today generally
realizes that all of those things were lies. I can’t do anything that I put my
mind towards. Even though I have the trophy, I was never more than a terrible
soccer player. And my value and worth never should have been equated with the
grades that I received in school. And this isn’t to blame my, or any other,
parents, it was simply the prevailing thought of the day. We had to protect the
egos of children, and build them up. But the effect was the creation of a
generation of people who tend to think like that Pharisee- that they are more special
than everyone around them, that everything they do is right, and that they are
justified in themselves. And to be fair, it’s not only the Millennial
generation that struggle with this.
So it’s no surprise that since our culture struggles with humility, that we tend to proclaim ourselves above
others and God. And there is a very grave danger in a lack of humility and thinking
that one is justified above others, and that is when you live on the moral high
ground. The moral high ground is perhaps the most dangerous place to live in
the entire world. You are isolated there, and stunted from all spiritual and emotional
growth. This is where the Pharisee lived. The text says that he was “standing
by himself;” he was utterly alone, having distanced himself from others. The tax
collector though is “standing far off,” meaning he was likely hanging out in
the narthex; he couldn’t even bear to sit in the back pew. He certainly made himself low and humbled
himself.
And this posture of
humility is something we could all use a little more of , both in our lives and
in our culture. We tend not to acknowledge it much in the Episcopal Church, but
today many churches around the world are celebrating Reformation Sunday.
October 31st will be the 496th anniversary of Martin
Luther nailing his 95 Theses to the
door of the church in Wittenberg. It was a wake-up call for Christianity.
Luther realized that the Church was proclaiming itself instead of God. The
Church was focused on building power, wealth, and influence more than that it was
in doing the work of justice, peace, and reconciliation. And so he wrote his
letter of protest and, rather unintentionally, began a movement known as the
Reformation that would result in Protestantism. But there was the crucible
moment when Luther had to recognize that the proclamation had gone astray. And
I’m wondering if Western Christianity isn’t ready for another such moment?
Today, as you know, is
the Sunday where we will offer prayers to God which focus on stewardship. We
will dedicate our pledges of finances to God’s greater glory. Swiss theologian
Karl Barth said that pride is the chief sin for the religious person because it
is fundamentally idolatrous, confusing the Creator and creation, the Giver and
the gift. I hope and pray that this Stewardship season has been a time for us
all to get some clarity on who the Giver is and who receives the gift. Perhaps
today is the day where there might be reformation in your heart and soul. Last
Sunday, I was on vacation and I went to First Baptist Church for worship. They
have a new pastor there, and while I don’t want any of you to leave St. Francis,
he is a terrific preacher and I’d recommend going sometime. But at the end of
his sermon, he invited anyone to come forward that felt a call to publicly and
personally chose to be a follower of Christ. Now don’t get your blood-pressure
up, we’re not doing an altar call. But it is a question we should ask
ourselves. Have I accepted that God yearns to reform my heart and soul for the glory
of the Kingdom? Have I made a conscious decision to proclaim God in all my
life?
And since today is the
day where we dedicate our pledges, it is a good time to consider what our
Stewardship proclaims. If you lost your checkbook and someone dug through your
income and expenses, what would they think about you? What would they think
your priorities are? What does your budget proclaim? And what does your pledge
proclaim?
As Paul is finishing up
this letter, he says “the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good
fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” He knows that the
number of his days is growing short. And whether we have come to terms with it
or not, the same is true for each of us. We are all in different places in our
race. God-willing, I will have many more decades to fight the good fight. But
others of you are perhaps in the final few laps. And what I’d say to you is
that what you do matters. You are passing on the faith, just as St. Paul
exhorts us all to do. You are fighting the good fight, and until the last
breath leaves our body, we all have the chance to proclaim God. Just as Abram
and Sarai were late in years, yet God chose them to be the first of the chosen
people.
So given our discussion about
what we proclaim, I’ll leave you with something to ponder. What will be your
legacy? What have you proclaimed throughout your life? And if you’re not proud
or happy with your proclamation, remember the lesson from Martin Luther, that
there is always the possibility of a Reformation, of proclaiming something new,
of focusing more on God.
Next Sunday we will
celebrate the Feast of All Saints’ Day, and there is a wonderful book called Holy Women, Holy Men. It is a collection
of short biographies and prayers throughout the church year about the saints of
the Church. Most of them, we know very little about. We often don’t know the
exact year of their birth, we don’t know where they went to school, we don’t
know what kind of car they drove. But we still remember them in the Church
calendar because they fought the good fight; they finished the race, and they
did so proclaiming Jesus Christ to the very end. Their legacy may not be about
prestige, or power, or influence, but their legacy is that they are a saint of
the Church, and known as a holy woman or holy man.
May that be our legacy.
May our legacy be that of proclaiming God through our whole life, through our
words, our actions, our budget, our pledging, our praying, our singing, our
worshiping, our caring, our loving. What do you proclaim? What will be your
legacy?
