Wednesday, November 11, 2020      (today’s lectionary)
Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours, Bishop
Walk with me
Be obedient to authority and open to every good enterprise. Slander no one, instead exercise gracious consideration toward all people.
Across the street they gathered in King Park, and the march began. Black Lives Matter. My friend Mike and I, both established white guys, wondered if we should be out there too. I remembered Chicago in 1968.
Larry and I wondered what we were doing there, swept up along the streets with thousands of screaming people. Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent … praiseworthy, gets lost fast in moments like these. I think most of us were “caught up.” We were there intentionally, but our inspiring, thoughtful conversations were over and now we were just listening to shouted slogans and shouting them ourselves. Police resisted, fired tear gas, pushed protesters through broken windows, bloodied up reporters (including Dan Rather), and generally poured their gas on the fire. That was OK with us. We were being heard. Something’s happenin’ here. I remembered feeling kinship with the Czech patriots in Europe, in the news that week, who resisted the Russians behind their heavy Iron Curtain. Self-righteousness rose up in my throat.
Weren’t we too foolish and deluded, addicted to various desires? Didn’t we live in malice and envy, hating one another? But when the generous love of Jesus appeared, he saved us and washed us clean. He poured out on us the rich love of the Holy Spirit, and now we have become heirs in hope of eternal life.
In time Larry became a minister in the United Church of Christ. He preached once each year on Matthew 25. “Who is the least of these to me?” He asked himself and his congregation, and the first year he chose a young man with AIDS to get to know and love. Each year he visited the same passage, and made another commitment.
As for me, I found my way back to Jesus over the next ten years. From the humanists to the Moonies to being re-baptized on Easter, settling into marriage and fatherhood and eventually ordination. I became a pastoral counselor and occasional preacher, watching like Larry for “the least of these.”
Lord, you guide me beside still water and refresh my soul. You anoint my head with oil, and thus my cup overflows with goodness and kindness every day of my life. I will dwell in your house forever. The Lord is my shepherd, and I shall not want.
I don’t know about Larry, but I know my self-righteousness just found a hole and hid. It pops up all the time. I pretend, and my walk doesn’t match my talk, then I ask forgiveness. Over and over. One of these days my ego will get tired of working so hard to protect me, and I’ll just start following Jesus.
Jesus and his disciples saw ten lepers crying “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” They were keeping their social distance, but Jesus healed them with his words. “Go show yourselves to the priests!” One of them realized his skin was clear, and he came back, fell at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. He was a Samaritan.
Yeah, but what happens next? I have learned how to be thankful, so now what? I see the people in the street across from our home. I look out from my office through a big picture window. I watch. The next time, I think, I’ll open the front door and start walking with them.
What do you think? What are the chances of that? How long does Jesus wait for me?
As he said so often, Jesus said to the healed Samaritan leper, “Stand up and go. Your faith has saved you.”
(Titus 3, Psalm 23, 1 Thessalonians 5, Luke 17)
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