Scriptural Sermons

Avi, May, Gao, and I recently returned from our roadtrip to Tennessee. Normally, food militant that I am, I don’t allow them to drink soda pop, but in my largesse I deemed our vacation a special occasion during which the rules could be bent. Accordingly, at our first restaurant stop, I ordered them all a soda pop. I waited to hear their expressions of delight, and even more so their expression of gratitude for my freewheeling beneficence, but I waited in vain. “Why does Avi have so much more ice than me? It’s not fair,” May began. I glanced at their glasses. That waitress must not have kids, I thought to myself, because Avi had tons of ice and May just a few melting pieces floating pathetically at the top of the glass. “Avi, share some of that ice with your sister,” I requested. “But that’s not fair,” protested. “On our last vacation when we were allowed to have soda, May had more ice than me, and you didn’t make her share it.” “But that’s still not fair to me this time,” May quasi- reasoned. Gao, a quick study, caught on to the dynamic in no time. “Why is my straw orange?” she complained. “Theirs are purple and pink. Why did I have to get the orange one?” “Well there you have it,” I pronounced. “May has little ice; Gao has an ugly straw color….Life has been, in different ways, equally unfair to both of you, so that’s fair.” At that point, they weren’t quite sure what I was talking about. I wasn’t even sure at that juncture what I was talking about, but it halted the momentum of the conversation. Before Avi had the chance to realize that she had gained the high ground over her sisters, a little girl walked by with her mother. As she passed by I heard her say, “Why do they get soda when I had to have apple juice. No fair.” The other mother and I exchanged knowing glances. Misery really does love company. Perhaps I am serving some kind of penance of just desserts, because I remember having like conversations with my parents when I was about their age. More likely though, it is probably safe to generalize that children have a keen sense of fairness, albeit one driven by self-interest. But I would submit that really they are little different from us adults. We too have a keen sense of fairness, ours too driven by self-interest. We just give expression to it in an adult manner, a manner more discrete and subtle. It is a measure of our character, I suppose, the extent to which our sense of fairness is not driven by self-interest. The poet Thomas Grey recognized something like this when he wrote, “Each to his suffering, all are men, condemned alike to grown -- the tender for another’s pain, the unfeeling for his own.” Yes, child or adult, self-interested or not, we all share a sense of fairness. The philosophers, naturally, have argued over where it comes from. As far as I can make out, they argue that it is either a posteriori, or subsequent to experience – something we learn from our environment; or a priori, prior to experience – something which preexists our environment. And of those who argue that it is a priori, they argue further over whether it derives from our nature or derives from that which transcends our nature. Being a Christian, I believe it’s the latter. But again, regardless where it comes from, we all share it. This accounts for the fact that Jesus’ parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard is one of his least popular parables. Quite frankly, it offends our sense of fairness. The owner of a vineyard went to the marketplace at first light to hire laborers for the day. He agreed to pay those he found there one denarius, a fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work. At nine he returned to the marketplace and encountered more laborers waiting to be hired, so he hired them too, promising to pay them what was right. He returned again to the marketplace at noon, three and even at five, an hour before the workday ended. Each time he hired the laborers he encountered there. When the workday was over, he ordered his manager to pay the laborers in the reverse order in which they arrived. To those who had worked just an hour, he gave one denarius. They must have been overjoyed to have earned a day’s wage in an hour, but no less overjoyed than the laborers who had worked all day, for they having worked ten times longer were now entitled to nearly ten times that wage. But as it turned out each laborer, regardless of when he arrived, received just one denarius. So the laborers who had worked all day complained. “It’s not fair.” But the owner of the vineyard merely responded in effect that he was within his right. It was his money, and he could do what he wanted with it. The owner of the vineyard perhaps was within his right, but he wasn’t fair. I wonder what would have happened it I had taken that line with my sons, “It’s my money and I can do whatever I want with it.” I too would have been within my right, but I wouldn’t have been fair. Is Jesus teaching us that it’s this way with God? No wonder it’s an unpopular parable. But in fact, it is an unpopular parable because it is a misinterpreted parable. Everyone seems to miss one point, but it’s the key point. Jesus is teaching not about the marketplace but about the kingdom of heaven. “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers.” Jesus is teaching about the age that he would soon inaugurate by his Holy Spirit, roughly but certainly not perfectly manifested by his church. And what Jesus is teaching is that our sense of fairness in the marketplace, which he so very brilliantly evokes so that we may be en guarde against it, does not apply in the church. It doesn’t matter how late in God’s salvation history you join the church. When you join, you receive the same benefit. You receive the Holy Spirit – a spirit of unity and equality in him, a spirit that rejoices the more that are included, a spirit that is as generous and loving as he was. What is in fact unfair is when those who joined the church earlier in God’s salvation history lay claim to special benefits, even the right to exclude or subordinate latecomers. Yet despite Jesus’ teaching, this has happened from the beginning. The very first members of the church, the Jewish Christians, claimed special benefits and attempted to exclude then subordinate the gentile Christians. And it has happened ever since. Anywhere, within the church, you see one type or class of person laying claim to special benefits and excluding or subordinating another type or class of person, usually a type or class of person different from their own, then by one pretext or another, and insidiously, it’s usually an appeal to scripture, then this unfairness is likely funding it. And it’s ironic, because those who perpetrate this unfairness overlook that they are too latecomers to God’s salvation history, whatever type or class of person they are. We are all latecomers to God’s salvation history. Look at the date. Jesus is teaching that the church simply does not work the way of the marketplace, that we must be aware of this and adjust our perspective so the church will be more fair, thus more happy and harmonious. And if you think about it, there is another place this applies. It applies to our nation. Again, we are all, at least most of us, latecomers to America, latecomers to citizenship and participation in the American dream. Yet often we who have nothing more than two or three generations on others, again because they are a different class or type of people, lay claim to special benefits and attempt to exclude or subordinate them. American belongs equally to all who want to be citizens and to participate in the American dream, to everyone American can possibly accommodate. And when we become aware of this and adjust our perspective, we and the nation will be more fair, thus more happy and harmonious. Amen.

I just read to you seventeen verses from the gospel of Matthew. Seventeen verses and literally countless miracles. Jesus cleansed a leper. Then he healed a Centurion’s servant. Then he healed Peter’s mother-in-law. Then he cast out demons of many who were possessed. Then he cured all who were sick. Seventeen verses and literally countless miracles. So what’s up with Jesus’ miracles? I’d wager most of us have never come to terms, precisely, with what we think about them. So what if I put you on the spot? What if I asked you point blank, “Do you believe that Jesus’ miracles really happened just as they’re written?” You’d probably answer yes. But you’d probably answer yes because you figure it’s the “right answer,” and you don’t want to come off as faithless, or skeptical, or cynical, or doubtful, or impious. What if instead I allowed you to answer by secret ballot? You might well answer differently. You might well answer, “No.” Because we live in a scientific and secular age after all; a scientific and secular age, that, if it can’t quite disprove miracles, certainly puts no stock in them. It may surprise you that one of the most influential theologians of the twentieth century put no stock in them either. His name is Rudolf Bultmann. To the question, “Do you believe that Jesus’ miracles really happened just as they are written?” - He answered an emphatic “No.” His most famous account of what really happened had to do with Jesus’ multiplication of five loaves of bread and two fishes into enough food sufficient to feed a multitude of 5,000. What really happened, Bultmann theorized, was that Jesus inspired everyone to share the food they already had. But there’s a problem with this. The problem is the gospels - all four of them. They don’t record that Jesus’ inspired everyone to share the food they already had. They record that Jesus performed a miracle. If it really happened the way Bultmann theorized, why didn’t they just record it that way? Why didn’t they just record that Jesus was an inspiring man? In fact, the gospels don’t record that Jesus was particularly inspiring. His own disciples tripped over themselves his entire ministry. He was continually correcting and rebuking them. And talk about correcting and rebuking, think of the religious authorities. All he ever did was correct and rebuke them. He was so “inspiring” to them that they killed him. So to return to the question at hand, why would all four gospels engage in subterfuge? Why would they engage in subterfuge, not just with regard to the loaves and fishes, but with the countless miracles throughout them? That seems rather far fetched. No, you can’t really get around the fact that all four gospels record that Jesus performed miracles. And they go beyond this. They explain how it could be so. It begins with the fact that Jesus was the Son of God. This is to say he was possessed of God’s own essence. This is to say he was possessed of the essence that called creation into being. This is to say that he could command creation’s function. Now that’s a bold claim, but the entire Bible makes bold claims. Don’t get me started on the apostle Paul. But it’s a bold claim that makes perfect sense if you think about it. If the supernatural realm can not intervene in the natural realm, then what in the world are we Christians playing at? If the supernatural realm can not intervene in the natural realm, then there’s no resurrection. Then Jesus has changed absolutely nothing, and that’s demonstrable. The whole point is that the supernatural realm has intervened in the natural realm -- that God has entered into time and history, into your life and into mine. So the gospels explain how it could be so, and they also explain why it was so. Jesus performed miracles to show what God stands for. In the case of the miracles I just read, he performed them to show that God stands for healing, wholeness, restoration, restitution -- for abundant life, abundant life that we experience proximately in the here and now and abundant life that we will experience ultimately in the hereafter. Makes sense to me. Sounds intellectually defensible. So maybe the gospel writers actually know what they are talking about. Maybe there’s a reason that the Bible is the most influential book in human history, and it formed and sustained Western Culture before Western Culture became so worldly wise that it turned on it. That brings us to coronavirus, because all roads lead to coronavirus these days. All of this has application to our own times. It has to do with what I just said; it has to do with the fact that God stands for healing, wholeness, restoration, restitution, for abundant life, abundant life that we experience proximately in the here and now and abundant life that we experience ultimately in the hereafter. Because from this we can extrapolate a rule: What we ultimately anticipate, we presently approximate. Let me repeat that: What we ultimately anticipate, we presently approximate. And as we look around us, who do we see during these times of coronavirus, that is presently approximating? Precisely the doctors, nurses, health care workers, and all those on the front lines of this disease. They are more than brave, selfless, dutiful, and skillful. They are advancing the divine cause. They are performing miracles. But this disease is more than physical. It has a spiritual component as well, because it is attended by fear, loss, anxiety, and despair. That’s where the rest of us come in. That’s where we can advance the divine cause. That's where we can perform miracles. We can tender support, encouragement, comfort, hope, service, and love. It’s nothing more than what the writer of the epistle to the Hebrews wrote. We can, all together, see the things promised and welcome them from afar. Amen.

Snowflakes. If you aren’t connected to a college campus, you probably think that a snowflake is a tiny crystal of snow. If you are connected to a college campus, however, this word takes on new meaning. Snowflakes are students who are as fragile as their namesake. More particularly, Snowflakes are readily traumatized and offended. If a subject is raised, for instance, that involves exploitation, oppression, persecution, discrimination, suffering, violence, or any ism, Snowflakes meltdown. And that brings us to another word. Trigger. If you aren’t connected to a college campus, you probably think that a Trigger is the mechanism that fires a gun. If you are connected to a college campus, however, this word too takes on new meaning. The meaning relates to Snowflakes. If a professor must raise a subject involving exploitation, oppression, persecution, discrimination, suffering, violence, or any ism -- things that may trigger a Snowflake to meltdown -- they are urged to issue Trigger Warnings so the Snowflake may evacuate the classroom. In my own experience, Trigger Warnings are not feasible. I teach Bible, after all. Genesis to Revelation would issue in nothing but one unending Trigger Warning. After all, the Bible culminates in the crucifixion of the Son of God. But I would think that the same would hold true for most disciplines - certainly history, certainly literature, certainly biology, certainly psychology. At any rate, one of the leading public intellectuals of our times is a professor named Jordan B. Peterson. Peterson has become a well known spokesman against Snowflakes and Triggers. His point is that college is meant to prepare students for life, and you don’t prepare students for life by making them weak, cowardly, and avoidant. You don’t prepare them for life by giving them to believe that life is too much for them to handle. You don’t prepare them for life by over-protecting and sheltering them. You don’t prepare them for life by teaching them that the proper response to life is to run, hide, and cower. You prepare them for life by teaching them what life is, then by fortifying them with time tested convictions that are worth defending, by inspiring them with worthy examples, by encouraging them to assume responsibility for the burden of existence, and by warning them of the historical consequences of fear and ignorance. You prepare them for life by making them strong, courageous, and engaged. It all makes you wonder why students actually opt not to be rightly prepared in life. I guess the reasons that students opt not to be rightly prepared in life are the same as the reasons the rest of us opt not to be rightly prepared in life. It’s the course of least resistance. It is not easy to be rightly prepared in life. It’s downright hard to be rightly prepared in life, because it’s hard to do something as opposed to nothing. It’s hard to take action against an unrealized threat. It’s hard to forswear denial for realism. It’s hard to assume personal responsibility as opposed to relying upon others who have done so. We opt not to be rightly prepared in life, in short, because it is easy. But as Jesus teaches, “The way is easy that leads to destruction.” Because the bottom line is that bad things happen in life. Even privileged people like ourselves are not exempt. Bad things happen in life, and they happen in every way possible. They can happen to us as individuals; suddenly -- like a diagnosis, or an accident, or an attack. Or they can happen to us as individuals slowly -- like a toxic relationship, or a long and lonely end stage of life, or a debilitating condition. Bad things can happen to us as individuals both suddenly and slowly; and they can also happen to us as collective people, again suddenly, like 9/11 or slowly, like climate change. Bad things can happen every which way. And if this doesn’t ring true, just wait. Noah from our gospel lesson is proof of this. In fact, Noah is proof that it can be all of these things at once. The flood would happen to him and his family, and the flood would happen to all humankind. The flood would happen as spontaneously as storms do, but at the same time it would be a long time in coming. Humankind was riding for a fall. After all, “The LORD saw...that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil continually.” The Lord does not let this magnitude of evil stand. It may have its day, but its day ceases to be. The Lord issues his judgment upon it. He always has, and he always will. But Noah was prepared rightly for life. He was prepared for the flood. Yes, it was hard. It would have been easier not to build an ark. It would have been easier not to stock it. That’s what the rest of the world did, after all. But Noah was prepared rightly for life, and he sailed through the flood, and in the process saved humankind from extinction. But here is the punchline for the first Sunday in Advent. “So it will be with the coming of the Son of Man. So it will be with the coming of the Son of Man.” As the Son of Man came, the Son of Man will come. He will come to each of us, and he will come to all of us. He will come as he has portended, and he will come in the blink of an eye. Our gospel lesson orders us with great urgency to prepare for the coming of the Son of Man. And you think preparing rightly for life is hard? As hard as it is to prepare rightly for life, it is infinitely harder to prepare rightly for eternal life. Because this means that amidst the reality of life we must too demonstrate faith and righteousness, mercy and forgiveness; self-sacrifice, truthfulness, justice, peace, and for this first Sunday in Advent we too must demonstrate hope. We must be people he will recognize as his own. Amen.

Genesis 3:8-12 Matthew 6:5-13

Acts 2:22-24 Matthew 22:35-37

As my children can and will attest, I am really bad at parking. I am not sure why. For some reason, for all of my life, I have never been able to park a car. I certainly can’t parallel park. That requires the most skill. Even if I were driving a Volkswagen Beetle, I would never attempt it. That leaves perpendicular and angle parking at which I am equally bad. My children hate it when I try to park, which is about ten times a day. “Am I going to hit anything? Am I in the space?” I ask them, my voice choked with urgency and stress. My friends hate it when I try to park too. A neighbor and I recently arranged to share a bottle of wine at a local wine boutique. I told her I’d pick her up at 7:00. “No! No!” She insisted. “I’d be happy to drive. Or we could walk.” She offered. “Is it my parking?” I asked. “Yes.” She said. “Is it really that bad?” I asked. “Yes.” She said. Last week I learned that at least I am not alone in the world. I was walking through a parking lot. I do a lot of walking through parking lots, since I always park far from the store where there are no other cars. Anyway, I was walking through a parking lot, when I discovered a car parked in such a way that it took up four parking spaces. A quarter of the car was in each of the four spaces. It was the worst parking job I had ever seen in my life. I waited around for a bit hoping to chalk up a friendship with the driver. No one showed up. “Oh well,” I said to myself as I made my way to the store, “At least I’m not that bad.” I found them to be consoling words. “At least I’m not that bad.” When we consider the prophet Jonah from our Old Testament Lesson, we can all say, “At least we’re not that bad.” Because Jonah was the worst. You can’t be as bad as the worst. It’s grammatically impossible. The Lord called Jonah to prophecy to the Assyrians. Now many of the prophets when the Lord called them to prophecy expressed reservations. Jeremiah springs to mind. “But I’m only a lad,” he protested. Moses springs to mind. “Who am I to go to Pharaoh?” he protested. Hosea springs to mind. “You want me to marry a prostitute?” He protested. But despite their reservations, they at least answered their calls and did the best they could. Not Jonah. Jonah would have none of it. He had two solid reasons. For one thing, the job of a prophet is not an easy job. Speaking the word of God. In this world? And if you’re any good at your job, it spells persecution, though Jonah didn’t have much to worry about on that score. For another thing, Jonah really hated the Assyrians. It’s pretty much what defined him - his hatred for the Assyrians. There are all sorts of people who are defined by their hatreds. Think of Neo Nazis. Think of the Klu Klux Klan. Think of the Skinheads. Such was Jonah’s hatred for the Assyrians. So he was not about to answer the Lord’s call and prophesy to the Assyrians, any more than a Neo Nazi would answer the Lord’s call and prophesy to the Jews. Jonah decided to get out of Dodge. Assyria was East, so he headed west. He hopped on board a cargo ship and was soon sleeping like a baby in the hold. His conscience, it would appear, was at complete rest. But God was not about to let him get away with him. God hurled a mighty storm his way. God calms storms, but he also sends them -- often to wake you up to something you must do, as in Jonah’s case. When his fellow mariners learned that the storm was on Jonah’s account, they threw him overboard. He should have drowned. Imagine being tossed into the waters of Hurricane Florence. Your chance of survival would be zero. But God, who is a God of unlimited resources, appointed a fish to swallow him and spit him out on dry ground. And God called him a second time to prophecy to the Assyrians. Considering who he was dealing with, God went easy on him. He had but one line to deliver, “Forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown.” Realizing he had no choice, Jonah held his nose and delivered his line. Lo and behold, the Assyrians repented. And I mean repented. To a man, woman, and child, they covered themselves in sackcloth. They fasted. They wailed. So God decided that Nineveh would not be overthrown. Then Jonah really showed his colors. His evasion of his call to prophecy was only the tip of the iceberg. He threw a temper tantrum. There’s nothing more unseemly than a grown man throwing a temper tantrum. I witnessed that recently as I was walking through a parking lot. It wasn’t pretty. “How dare you show grace and mercy to the Assyrians!” Jonah shook his fist at God. “How dare you be a God abounding in mercy and steadfast love!” After his temper tantrum he stormed off to sulk. He sat outside Nineveh cursing his fate and hoping that God would change his mind. When it became clear that he wouldn’t, Jonah, fuming, wished he were dead. To describe Jonah as infantile would be an insult to infants. So, as I said, at least we’re not that bad. We’re not half that bad. What a buffoon that Jonah was. But here’s the point. God worked through him. The Assyrians repented. God made use even of him. And Jonah is not alone. God made use of Joseph’s murderous brothers. God made use of that schemer Jacob. God made use of a talking donkey, for crying out loud. That means God can make use of us. Sinner or saint, God can make use of us. He can make use of us all. It’s what he’s all about, after all -- working through sin to effect redemption. No one believed this more than one Jesus of Nazareth. He could have picked anyone for his disciples. There were wise men in his day. There were brave men in his day. There were faithful men in his day. Look who he picked instead. Peter and Andrew, a couple of fishermen who were, to put it mildly, rough around the edges. We don’t know much about Andrew. The gospels give us little to go on as far as he is concerned. But Peter. Really? That guy didn’t know when to put a sock in it. He humiliated himself again and again, but it proved no deterrent. Then there was another couple of fishermen -- James and John, the Sons of Thunder. They weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. After Jesus had spelled it out to them innumerable times -- “I am here to die” -- right before death they put in a bid for preferential treatment. And then there’s Judas. He couldn’t quite add it up either. He was basically a terrorist who was frustrated that Jesus wouldn’t join the cause. Most of his other disciples, we know only by name. But there’s one thing we know about them all. They deserted him. The best man they had ever known. They deserted him in his hour of need. And God made use of them. Through them the church was founded. Through them Christendom arose. Through them billions of people today have found conviction and meaning and hope. The Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth can work through us - for us and for our world. May we rally to his cause. Amen.

Apparently, there’s been a pendulum swing once again in the way primary schools are teaching mathematics. The good old fashioned, tried and true, common sense way that I grew up on is out. They are back to applied mathematics. It’s clear from the questions my son asks me when he is doing his homework. “How many dimes are in a dollar?” “Where are the dice?” “How many eggs are in a dozen?” “ How do I divide a pizza into quarters?” This past week the question was, “What’s a trio?” You know, I said. “Like The Three Magi.” He gave me a blank stare. “The three what?” He asked. “Never mind”. I said. More evidence that my biblical illustrations are not for everyone. “How about The Three Stooges?” I proposed. Another blank stare. “What’s a stooge?” He asked. “Never mind that either.” I said. “How about The Three Musketeers?” I ventured. This made a trio of blank stares. What’s more, he began to get frustrated. “Ok, I got this,” I said, rising to the occasion. “The Three Little Pigs. The Three Bears. The Three Billy Goats Gruff.” I was finally on a roll. “Oh, I get it. It’s a group of three.” “Exactly!” I exclaimed. Come to think of it, there’s another trio from the Bible that springs to mind -- the alien, the orphan, and the widow. In fact, this is the most prevalent trio in the Old Testament; the reason being, that according to the Old Testament, the alien, the orphan, and the widow are the three groups most vulnerable to social injustice. It’s not hard to see why. Aliens are those who are forced by one pressure or another from their homeland. Then and now, wherever they seem to go, they are unwelcome. They are feared. They are suspected. They are resented. They are blamed. They are scapegoated. Vulnerable to social injustice. And then there are widows. Back in the biblical era there was no such thing as an Oprah Winfrey or a Condoleeza Rice -- powerful and successful women making it on their own. Women back in the biblical era were wholly dependent upon men to survive. This is why the loss of a husband was often catastrophic for a woman. A widow had no means of support or protection. Vulnerable to social injustice. And finally, orphans. Orphans need little explanation. Orphans are children whose families have either died or abandoned them, leaving them all alone to fend for themselves in life. Enough said. Vulnerable to social injustice. So the Old Testament again and again offers this trio as the three groups most vulnerable to social injustice. Look out for them, the Old Testament demands. Intercede for them. Protect them. Care for them. When we take the New Testament into account, the trio could well become a quartet, because Jesus adds one more group to the alien, the orphan, and the widow. Jesus adds the mentally ill. Consider our Gospel Lesson. Jesus exorcised a demon from a young boy. A demon? But this is because in the biblical era, diseases that caused delusions, hysteria, mania, paranoia, hallucinations, depression, psychosis, and fits -- in other words mental illness -- were deemed to have been caused by demons. Treatment reflected this. Holes were drilled into skulls so that the demons could escape. The bottom line is when Jesus exorcised the boy’s demon, he was healing his mental illness. And it wasn’t just here that Jesus exorcised a demon. Jesus exorcised demons more than he did anything else. As he made his way throughout Galilee, he encountered two who were demon possessed living among the tombs, then he encountered one who was demon possessed who was too mute, then he encountered one who was demon possessed who was both deaf and mute, then he encountered the demon possessed daughter of a Canaanite woman. He healed them all. He then commissioned his disciples to go out and do the same. This is because just as the Old Testament apprehended the vulnerability of the alien, the widow, and the orphan, Jesus apprehended the vulnerability of the mentally ill. Yes, the mentally ill are vulnerable -- doubly vulnerable in fact. There is the vulnerability rendered by the disease itself -- the impairment of behavior and perception and personality. But too, there is the vulnerability rendered by the way mental illness has been “treated,” and treated down through history. There have been countless books written about historical treatments for mental illness. I’ve read as many as I can. I have loved ones who are mentally ill, so I am always seeking knowledge. Those who had holes drilled in their heads were the lucky ones. I will spare you the details of a book I read recently about treatment for mental illness in the Medieval Period. Although things have scarcely improved with time. I recently read another book about treatment for mental illness in the twentieth century. In hospitals and institutions, under the guise of science, treatment included being chained, starved, beaten, imprisoned, electrocuted, sterilized, experimented on, isolated, lobotomized, and murdered. It makes you wonder if those who imposed such treatments were not more mentally ill than their victims. And all this because they were afflicted by a disease, a disease over which they had no control or responsibility. Yes, Jesus apprehended the vulnerability of the mentally ill, and this means we must too. The question then becomes, once we apprehend their vulnerability, what can we do? There are steps we can take. Personally, we can continue to raise our consciousness and the consciousness of those around us. We can enter into the struggle of the mentally ill people in our lives - regardless how messy it gets or how pointless it seems. As Shakespeare said, “Where there’s life there’s hope.” We can offer our support to those who are struggling with the mentally ill people in their lives. As a church, we have recently entered into an alliance with the Fox River Valley Initiative which is organizing a coalition of local churches to press for legislation that provides treatment centers for the mentally ill which aim to keep them off the streets and out of the prisons, where so many end up. There are indeed steps we can take. But is it enough? No of course not. It’s not enough. Especially considering it from a historical perspective. Especially considering the mentally ill down through the centuries and the barbaric treatments they endured. No and no again. It’s not enough. But that’s ok. Because we are Christians. This means we are called to embrace the lost cause. We are called to fight the losing battle. We are called to the exercise in futility. Because in truth there are no lost causes or losing battles or exercises in futility. Every effort we make on behalf of Jesus Christ reflects his ultimate victory out into the world. We must never lose sight of this fact, or lose faith in it. And all those who have suffered and died the insane ravages of mentally illness are, through him, free from their disease and eternally restored to who God created them to be. May God bless the mentally ill, and may God bless our efforts on their behalf. Amen.

Amos 6:4-7 I Corinthians 13 Matthew 5:42-48