September 23, 2007: PEACEMAKING: Pray Like ...L
Luke 16:1-13, 1 Timothy 2:1-6, Jeremiah 8:18-9:1

Eileen Parfrey -- Springwater Presbyterian Curch

You may have heard that I know a person whose last name is actually "Reichelderfer." It seemed pretty ludicrous to me, too, when I first heard it, but that's what he was born with. It is he who summed up a difficult Christian doctrine so concisely that I refer to it as the Reichelderfer Doctrine. It's the basis of today's sermon title: Do what you think is right, and then pray like hell. It's a theologically sound and faithful way of living. But it also sounds-especially when you put it on the reader board out front-offensive, edgy, and risky. Exactly like our faith.

There is nothing cozy about being a Christian. This was certainly true when Paul advised his protégé Timothy to pray so that Christians could at least live in peace. Then as today, being a Christian was offensive, edgy, risky. It's offensive, not just because Christians are a dwindling minority, but because of the outrageous assumption on the cover of our Order for Worship. An Abundant Life. Abundant? When so many of us are in debt in order to get 'em while you can, stock up so you don't run out, live the good life right now? That kind of living isn't about abundance-that's scarcity. A life of faith, lived as Christians are invited to live, has to assume abundance.

Take a look at the steward in today's parable. His worldview assumes a zero-sum game. Scarcity. There's only "so much" to go around, and if you get some, then it automatically depletes some of what I might otherwise have. He's assuming there's only so much good favor to go around, and if he's going to make it without a job, he's got to steal some favor from his boss' supply. In other words, since "God helps those who help themselves," the crafty steward protects his interests at any cost. And cost isn't a consideration, since he makes sure he's not the one paying the bill.

We can't be too judgmental here. The steward isn't the only person in the history of the world to protect himself at the expense of others. "Pork" refers to projects funded by politicians currying the support of their constituents. "I wasn't jumping on the bed!" is how kids make it not-their-problem when the parental unit asks what the commotion is all about. Dilbert cartoons have built a career on jokes about the employees who get around the pointy-haired boss by claiming that they hadn't endorsed the failed project. Take your bill and write it for half.

So often, Christians live like those guests who sleep on top of the bedspread because they don't want to cause you more laundry. Maybe it's only in Minnesota, where I come from, that people are so concerned not to appear to have something at the expense of others, that good manners get contorted. Would you like some cake? "Oh no. Take some for yourself." That wasn't the question. Didn't I just offer you some cake? "Don't bother about me." Do you want cake or not? "Don't put yourself out." That's a weird way of taking your own bill and writing it for half. Does this exercise avoid potential disappointment at not getting any or is it reliance on the scarcity myth instead of abundance to make you look good?

Often we assume scarcity and make up for it by hoarding. Every summer, as I'm confronted by the luscious bounty of Oregon, I find myself buying more fresh produce than any two people could possibly consume, partly for the sheer joy of berries. But also because I lack confidence that the abundance will continue. There's so much! How could it? I knew a black Lab who suddenly ballooned in size, particularly around the middle. The owner couldn't figure out what was going on, until he followed the dog out to the woods and found his pet gorging on a downed deer. What if there isn't enough for later? What if someone else gets it? Take out your bill and write it for half.

Churches have as hard a time assuming abundance as the rest of the culture, but we dignify it with the term, "fiscal responsibility." Not enough volunteers, not enough interest in mission, not enough time, not enough commitment to growth, not enough resources. We budget everything for least-amount, and then we outsource our faith, as if hired professionals do it better. Like the crafty steward trying to avoid being fired for mismanagement, we figure that if we don't try anything that's not a sure bet, if we avoid risk, we can avoid failing. Take your bill and write it for half.
The craftiness of the steward caused him to disregard the steepness of the price to get out of his uncomfortable fix. And why should he bother? He wasn't going to pay it! When you're not footing the bill, the sky may as well be the limit. This is where the parable gets crafty. As it turns out, we're more like the steward than we think. The price for getting us out of our uncomfortable fix is steep, incredibly costly. But we're not footing the bill, either. As long as we're willing to trust the God of abundance.

We share our joys each week during worship, not to announce our accomplishments, but to rehearse the blessings of an abundant God who gives an abundant life. Abundance that doesn't depend on or come from us. Abundance not due to our talent or achievements. Abundance flows as completely through our lives as does water when it pours into a container. Once we cotton on to that, the sky's the limit. We can afford to forgive others, because we have been forgiven much. We can afford to be peacemakers, because we've experienced the peace of Christ. We can afford to be generous because what we "have" is not due to us, but something we have received. I read about a poor woman in Appalachia whose motto was, "If anyone has less than us, half of what we've got is theirs." That's a different twist to, "Take your bill and write it for half."

Christians live differently, outrageously, offensively. We don't live as if there isn't enough. The myth of scarcity is just that-a myth. The God of abundance has already provided for us. When I was a little girl, I told my Uncle Doug that I'd run out of kisses, so he couldn't have one. He told me that kisses were the kind of thing that, the more you give them away, the more you have to give away. We both knew our talk wasn't about kisses, it was about love. Which is what abundance is about. Abundance is the kind of thing that, the more you give it away, the more you have to give. It's like water. It has no shape of its own, but poured into a container, it runs right to the edge, flowing and filling until it is completely spent. Abundance. Right to the edge, until it can go no further.

Jesus' joke in this parable is that we don't foot the bill. When people hurt us, the favor they do is to give us the opportunity to pass on the abundance we've received. Call it what you will-forgiveness, mercy, compassion, justice-whatever it is that entitles us to say (and to really mean it), "Take your bill and write it for half." Of course, it's hard to pass on something we haven't received. But who among us hasn't received greater mercy and more forgiveness than we deserve? You may not have noticed the tender mercy or the incredible kindness or compassion of divine love. But try showing some mercy yourself. Or try forgiving someone who hasn't asked for it (and might not deserve it). You might notice something unexpected. Speaking of abundance, God's message to us is never, "Take your bill and write it for half." In abundant grace, God has said, "Take your bill and tear it in half. All is forgiven." Thanks be to God.