Sermon Cliff Note: The Trickster

Read Luke 16.1-8a

Jesus offers his disciples this story of a man and his wealthy master.

The man has squandered his master’s property.  The wealthy master is preparing to fire the man.

Realizing that he’s in trouble, the man calls folks who owe the master and radically reduces their debts in hopes that when he’s on the street, the debtors of the master will be so grateful that they’ll help him.

The wealthy master learns of the trick but instead of yelling at him for cheating, the master praises him.

Is Jesus saying that God appreciates thievery?  Is Jesus telling the disciples to trick people into the kingdom of heaven?

Remember: (1) Jesus and his followers are, for the most part, NOT the powerful in their society; and (2) they know what it is to be on the outside of a society looking in, where the Trickster is often the only one who gets the better of his betters.

The Trickster is a figure in literature who foils the plans of others,  deceives in order to win the day.  The Trickster is the underdog who turns  tables and brings surprise endings.  Tricksters in literature include:  Odysseus and the Trojan Horse . . . Robin Hood . . . Bugs Bunny . . . Sheherazade . . . The Pied Piper . . . Puck . . . Leprechauns . . . Jack in Jack & the Beanstalk . . . Road Runner . . . and Jacob, the best biblical example of the Trickster.

To take the story on its own terms, the first thing we have to do is forget the idea that the wealthy master stands for God.  Nothing in the story suggests this is so.

What changes when we do this?  What do we know about employer-employee relationships?  The first thing we know is where the power lies: with the employer.  That’s magnified in Jesus’ time, as the story points out: without this job, our fellow will be reduced to physical labor beyond his abilities or begging and the same of the streets.

The fact that he probably ‘deserves’ to be out on his ear is of little comfort and no practical help to someone who still needs to eat.  He is desperate.  And out of his desperation comes a creative plan: he’ll buy himself some good will with the folks who owe his boss.

Is he stealing from the boss?  Probably.  But this is not a morality play.  It isn’t about his theft anymore than Jacob’s status as father of Israel is about his theft of Esau’s birthright.

Trickster stories remind us that power is not always where it seems to be.  Tricksters show us how to think outside the box of our own fears and limitations.  Tricksters show us how to come at life sideways.

All well and good, but where on earth is the good news of Jesus’ saving grace in all this?

I don’t know any more than you do.  Really.

But here are a few possibilities to take home:

1. The powerful are not always in charge and will not always ‘win’.

2. Creativity of mind is a gift of God.

3. Maybe, just maybe, rules have to be understood in context.  Maybe, when a poor man takes a loaf of bread, it’s not stealing at all.  Maybe.

Tricksters  make us doubt . . . and in doubting what we were so sure we knew . . . invite us to see things differently . . . upside down differently. . . sideways differently . . .and be changed.

Jesus just finished telling the Pharisees and the crowds about the prodigal son and God’s extreme generosity of welcome when he turns to his disciples to tell them this story.  Like everyone else, the disciples were probably seeing themselves as righteous older brothers and asking why – why would, why should – God welcome such a one as this, to which maybe, just maybe, Jesus is answering, why not?

If the Trickster is about turning the tables, reversing the situation, making upside down right side up, then maybe, just maybe, God is rooting for the underdog, and maybe, just maybe, God is the greatest Trickster of all.

Epiphany Me

Today is the day of celebration of God’s revealing in Jesus the Christ, as made manifest to the magi, the wise men from the east, who came bearing gifts fit for Christ’s true identity as Lord of All.

Epiphany:  a bursting forth suddenness of revealing.  The groundwork having been laid, it is the magician’s ta-da pull-back-the-curtain moment.  Greatly anticipated, now we see what before was only imagined.

Epiphany: the God-reveal revealing us to ourselves – the who-we-were-made-to-be of things.  Child of God . . . that is who we are called to be . . . that is who we are.

From Flickr

Epiphany: the prodigal son at the moment of the father-running embrace.  Son tried to run away from who he was, to turn his back on the father who loved him.  Ultimately he came back, but even when he was the farthest away from home, he was always the beloved son.  So was I right that his epiphany moment was at the hug, the fatherly embrace?  Or was his epiphany sooner, felt only in his feet, finding themselves willing to turn homeward?

I think the feet knew best.  After all, the son’s identity did not change because he rejected it.  And that, that is grace abounding.  Claiming to be someone, something, else, God still and yet loves.

Does it matter that we know?  That we’re aware that the curtain’s been pulled back?  No and yes.  No – we are who we are, whether we know it or not.  Yes – for to know the identity not of self, but of God, is to be forever changed . . . to know the identity of God is to come into the presence of God . . . in ways quiet and ways fantastical . . . in ways earth-shattering and in ways barely earth-registering, we all are invited into the presence of God . . . to sit a spell . . . and just be . . . be the ones we were made to be . . .

In such a space everything else falls away . . . And we know who we are . . . for the first time . . . Who am I?  Is another way of asking Why am I?  And in the asking as much as in the answering . . . is . . . God . . .

In meeting God, we come to the end of ourselves as we see and the beginning of ourselves as God sees . . .

So today, perhaps our prayer might be . . .

Lord God, epiphany me.

Of a Father's Love Begotten

A READING FROM THE GOSPEL OF LUKE              Luke 1.68-79 (NRSV)
[John’s]  father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.  He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.  Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.  And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.  By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Friends, this is the Word of the Lord . . . thanks be to God.

MEDITATION Of a Father’s Love Begotten

Imagine, as you hear the Song of Zechariah, the scene . . . imagine you are there . . . who are you?  Are you the proud father, lifting his child aloft, crying out with joy?  Are you part of the listening crowd?  As for me, I’m the baby, held securely in my father’s arms.  It’s a lovely picture, but there’s something wrong in it . . . for although I am a child of God, I am no longer a baby – not in years and not in faith.

In his book The Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen points out that most of us picture ourselves in Luke’s parable as the prodigal son (the one who went away into a life of sin later to return repentant into his waiting father’s arms) . . . either that, or we see ourselves as the ‘good son’, the one who stayed faithfully at the father’s side, only to resent the warm welcome his wayward brother receives.

But  as believers, says Nouwen, we are challenged by the story to place ourselves in the position of the father of open and welcoming arms, as the figure in the story who represents God . . . the first time I read that, I was stunned . . . place myself in the position of God?  No!  It is too much!

Yet listen to Nouwen: “A child does not remain a child . . . When the prodigal returns home, he returns not to remain a child, but to claim his sonship and become a father himself.  As a returned child of God . . . the challenge now, yes the call, is to become the Father myself.  I am awed by this call. . . It has taken me much spiritual work to make the elder son as well as the younger son in me turn around and receive the welcoming love of the Father. . . on many levels, I am still returning.  But . . . there is a call beyond the call to return.  It is the call to become the Father who welcomes home. . . Having reclaimed my sonship, I now have to claim fatherhood. . . the hands that forgive, console, heal and offer a festive meal must become my own.” Friends, we are called with John to make God’s way straight, to prepare the road God will travel into the hearts of human beings, one soul at a time.  We are called away from childhood and into parenthood."

In the Exodus, God leads the people out of Egypt and into the promised land.  The image of God going ahead of God’s people, making the way straight and easy for them, is one of great meaning and comfort.
But in Luke, we have the reverse: the people – we –  are to go ahead of God rather than God ahead of the us . . . we are to prepare God’s way, rather than God preparing our way.

The purpose of the calling to go ahead of God, to prepare God’s way, is very clear and very specific: to give to others the knowledge and comfort, as well as challenge, of the saving ways of God, to let them know that God forgives and in God’s forgiveness is God’s saving. . .

And . . . it . . . is . . . coming!

Isn’t that an incredible message?  Isn’t that an amazing word of peace?

How can we be at war with ourselves or with each other in the face of such promise?  How can we be anything but hopeful in the face of these promises already completed?

And so we pray:  Lord, guide our feet all of our days into the ways of Your Peace.  Amen.