[Propertalk] Proper 4 c - 1

[Robert P Morrison]

Rough draft - part 1
Bob

	THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER
PENTECOST 

	1 KINGS 18:20-39 PROPER 4 c 

	GALATIANS 1:1-12 29th MAY, 2016 

	LUKE 7:1-10 PSALM 96 

	 It’s about compassion. Compassion and faith. 

	 I remember certain things about my first year at university. Yes,
that was right after universities were founded, but I wasn’t in the
first class. What’s more, I remember going to University Chapel
services every Sunday morning. But, even more amazing, I remember some
things from the sermons back then. In particular, one of the verses
from this morning’s Gospel passage. 

	 In case you’re curious, I don’t do Sudoku, nor am I a regular
crossword puzzle habitué, And I don’t associate with Lumosity ®,
so I’m not sure why on earth I should remember some of these
details. It’s not as if I never forget anything. Far from it! So
what was it about university? What was it about the Chapel service?
What was it about that one sermon, or some of the others? What
imprinted itself in such a way that it’s hard-wired into my brain? 

	 Back then, of course, it was the King Kames version, the Authorised
Version, of the Bible that was used. Someone said that the ink was
still wet on the page! Was that why it registered so strongly with me?
“Lord, trouble not thyself: for I am not worthy that thou shouldest
enter under my roof: … but say in a word, and my servant shall be
healed.” 

	 I was amazed at what the centurion said. What a concept! To think
that someone would refuse entertaining Jesus because of a feeling of
unworthiness. I know that some Scots have mixed feelings about
self-esteem. They struggle with that still, along with an insufferable
cockiness sometimes. It’s a weird combination. Maybe that’s why
these words from that sermon, as well as the image of the preacher,
imprinted themselves on my brain. 

	 But there’s more! What must have helped make that imprint was what
was said about this verse. For the first time I remember, it was
connected with the celebration of Communion, specifically, the act of
receiving the elements of Bread and Wine. 

	 Now, remember, this was a Church of Scotland Chapel – a
Presbyterian Shop. I was accustomed to Communion four times a year,
whether I needed it or not. I was – I still am! – a Preacher’s
Kid, one of those snotty-nosed creatures who couldn’t be told
anything about Church and worship, because we knew it all. After all,
WE had a direct line! So there WERE times when my mind went on auto
pilot and I didn’t hear everything the leader was saying. But I was
brought up short in what must have been my first liturgics seminar
when the preacher said, “You know, there are some people who say
this verse at every celebration of Communion. There are some people
for whom this is such a momentous act that it almost scares them
spitless. So they sort of half-hold God at arms’ length and say,
‘Don’t come any closer.’ And, at the same time, they imply that
God can work wonders with you and me.” 

	 Imagine how that struck me that Sunday morning, coming across these
words in that context. 

	 Again, particularly to a Scot, it’s not that hard to think about
unworthiness. In many cases, that was played up so strongly that the
word was practically our middle name. Both ethnically and
theologically, we take seriously the whole concept of worthiness,
especially worthiness before God. Extraordinarily seriously! 

	 Thank goodness, there ARE friends who will, from time to time, touch
our arms and reassure us that we’re only half as bad as we make
ourselves out to be. That can be really comforting and, if it happens
often enough, then we can begin to take ourselves seriously and
acknowledge that we DO have SOME good points, and that we might even
be slightly useful. 

	 Such were the local leaders who spoke to Jesus on behalf of the
Roman centurion. They seemed to friendlily disposed towards him. It
didn’t matter the rank of the militia man, he was an agent of the
occupying forces, who’d do anything they liked, whenever they liked.
Somehow, though, this centurion worked both for and with the local
Jewish citizens. He not only won their trust. He won their respect.
AND he built them a synagogue, a space specific to worship of a God
whom the Romans didn’t recognise, whom they didn’t honour in the
least. This man had been touched, deeply, somehow, by the witness of
the people whom he’d been ordered to subjugate. 

	 So the city elders had no hesitation interceding on the
centurion’s behalf. 

	 This in itself is incredibly enlightening. Transfer this to any
nation, any situation, in the world today. Picture the occupying
force. Think about how terribly wrong things can go. Imagine the
orders coming down from the top: “Do whatever it takes. We don’t
want any uprisings. We don’t want any arguments. Make sure you stamp
out an thoughts of individualism, or rights, of self-worth. If you put
the people down right away, they’ll know their place, and they’ll
know who’s boss.” 

	 It’s so familiar that it’s almost expected. Yet this centurion,
despite the edict of Rome, apparently gave the locals their dignity,
their feeling of self-worth. He even permitted them to be free to
worship and practice their rituals so that there was genuine
friendship and compassion. The bond was so strong that the leaders
interceded on his behalf with Jesus. Compassion begets compassion –
and healing. 

	 THIS is what we’re supposed to be doing. Interceding for others
– the local leaders for the centurion; the centurion for the
servant; Jesus for all of them; it could go on and on – Interceding
for others.. God already knew the centurion. God already knows
everyone in creation, but God looks for our intercession on behalf of
others. God wants to find in us such a reciprocity of compassion that
the other – even if she or her may appear to in control and part of
some occupying force – God wants us to be there as loving
intermediators who will bring every other person to God’s Presence,
to know the peace and the healing there. 

	 As tall an order as it may be for us to nurture relationships, to
foster dignity in others, no matter who they are, what they think, how
they speak; as tall an order as this is, there’s more to the story.
There is the recognition of how far short of God’s righteousness we
fall. 

	 Somehow, the centurion saw his unworthiness. Somehow, he was able to
admit that his rank, his privileges, his upbringing, his social
standing were not definitive of who he was and how he compared to
others. Somehow, he was able to set aside pride and self-importance
and to recognise who Jesus was. Somehow, he was able to see Jesus
clearly, which is more than I can say about myself, on occasion, and,
I’m guessing more than you may say about yourselves too. 

	 Was this the work of the Holy Spirit? I don’t know. It certainly
could have been. I’d like to think that it was so. That IS how God
guides, whether we’re aware of it or not. It’s still a matter of
being open to the leading of the Spirit, though. 

	 It’s about compassion is how I put it at the beginning of the
sermon. There’s so much compassion everywhere in this story. Long
before Jesus arrived, the centurion helped the villagers. And if he
built, or worked with them to build their synagogue, I’d bet he
helped them when some of their homes needed fixing up, or their
children cared for an educated, or their old parents fed. It’s not a
matter of building up political capital, as some people might suggest.
Although, he certainly build up good will. Without even hearing that
Jesus existed, without thinking that his servant might fall mortally
ill, that centurion began doing what was right, regardless of what
those further up the chain of command might think. 

	 In life, there is a rightness which must be embraced, no matter what
others think. In life, there is a sense of decency, of respect, of
honour that fills one, or should fill one, in such a way that we place
the other’s needs before our own. 

	 Was THAT the Holy Spirit, touching that commander’s heart and
mind? Was that which inspired the locals to accept the foreigner’s
help and to get to know him well enough so that they would be able to
speak for him later? Is THIS how WE are to live, not looking over our
shoulder so that others will see and give us another brownie point,
but simply responding to the needs of others? Surely it is. And surely
it IS the Spirit working within us to help us open every responsive
fibre of our being to touch someone else in need.

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