As some of you know, I grew in a small community just outside Pittsburgh, PA. We were members of and on most weeks my family attended the Aspinwall United Presbyterian Church. Growing up in that congregation, I memorized Bible verses in my Sunday School class. I sat with my parents and brothers in worship. After college I worked at a Presbyterian camp and conference center. Then at a church in suburban Chicago. Then went to seminary. Then to a church Wisconsin. Then to Bedford. All of which is to say I have heard read and read and studied and taught the Bible most of my life. But even so, with some regularity, the Bible continues to catch me off guard. I am sure it has much less to do with some new insight to the original meaning of the text as it has to do with the state of affairs in my own life.
Where I am.
How I am.
What I am thinking about or wrestling with.
Sometimes what I hear or read pulls to the surface of my consciousness a question or a concern, which before it happened, I was not even aware I was thinking about. So, it is with this particular story from Luke’s Gospel about Jesus, a wandering teacher, who is invited to dinner at the home of Simon, a recognized religious leader and, I am sure, a pillar in the community. Other than the difference in social standings, there is nothing particularly noteworthy about that. If Jesus can eat with tax collectors he can eat with a Pharisee. But then it happens.
In the middle of dinner, ignoring and breaking all kinds of traditional boundaries and social taboos, a woman interrupts the meal with her presence and her tears and with her oil and a kiss. The traditional welcome and hospitality which Simon should have shown, but didn’t.
Water for Jesus to wash his feet.
A kiss of welcome.
Is given in spades by a woman far outside of Simon’s circle of “acceptable” individuals.
This story in Luke’s Gospel is about repentance and generosity and forgiveness and grace. It redraws the line of who is included and who is not And it also includes this…which is what stopped me in my tracks when I was rereading this story.
As all of the drama around the meal is unfolding…
The interruption.
The surprise.
The shock.
The tears.
Jesus turns to Simon and says,
“Simon, I have something to say to you.”
And, this is where I stopped reading.
What, I heard and what I wondered and began to think about, is this:
What if I were Simon?
And what Jesus had to say was addressed to me?
And, because the Bible is never just about then, but also about now.
And never just about them, but also about you and me.
I found myself face to face with the question:
What is God trying to say to me?
What is God trying to say to me…
Amidst the craziness of the days in which we are living?
Amidst the angst and anxiousness of hyper partisan politics.
Amidst the weariness I sometimes feel.
What is God trying to say to me…
About hospitality and welcome when community members are arrested and deported? And, about who is included and who is excluded in the circle I draw around my life?
What is God trying to say to me…
About repentance?
About forgiveness?
About grace?
About faith?
And, about what it means to be a person of faith when, all too often, religion is seen as narrow-minded and bigoted. More arms folded than hand extended?
“Simon,” Jesus says…
“Paul,” is what I hear.
“I have something to say to you.”
Of course the Bible is never just about me.
The question is there for us as well.
What is God trying to say to us?
To Bedford Presbyterian Church?
About all those things I just mentioned.
About hospitality and welcome and generosity and grace?
About who we are and how we live?
About what it means to be a community of faith in these days we have to live? About how we care for one another and how we put into practice the best of what we believe? God is never about standing still or staying put or being comfortable where we are or patting ourselves on the back for who we are and what we have done because the last I looked there are still people who are hungry and forgotten and broken and in the shadows.
The Kingdom…
God’s Kingdom is still beyond what I can see.
And, besides me and us, do I dare push the question your way?
For you to hear and to grapple with as well?
Thank goodness I think faith is as much about asking the right questions as having the right answers because this morning all I have is the question.
What is God trying to say to me?
Today?
For right now?
For my life as it is?
For who I am and who I am called to be.
For who I am and what I am called to do.
The best I can do, at least for the moment, is to be intentional about asking the question and doing my best to listen for an answer.
What about you?
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