October 7, 2007 - Pentecost 19, Year C
Saint James Episcopal Church, Saint James, NY

Stories.
They’re probably the thing most remember about Jesus.
His unexpected conception,
his birth complete with angels and shepherds,
his encounters with lepers and hungry thousands and people possessed,
the meal he had with his friends the night before he died,
his rigged trial and cruel death,
his appearance again resurrected, talking, breaking bread, grilling fish.
They are what make him so real to us, so alive.
And not just the stories about him, but the stories that he told.
the prodigal son and the good Samaritan,
the lost sheep and the lost coin.
Somehow they stick much better in our minds than most of the other things Jesus said, the more abstract kind of teaching that he did.
We remember the stories, remember them
and with any luck, learn from them and live as Jesus would have us live.

But every so often, there’s a story
that doesn’t quite have the same resonance. Sometimes
it’s because we don’t really understand the context, we don’t really understand
what’s going on.
Sometimes
it’s because it seems irrelevant.
And sometimes
it’s simply because we don’t like
what Jesus has to say.

I’m not sure which of those reasons it is, or whether it’s something else altogether,
but the story that Jesus tells today in our gospel reading
is one of those stories
that we tend not to remember, tend not to think about very much.
Not the story of the mustard seed,
but the other one, the one about the master and the slave.
It’s one of those stories that we tend to pass over;
in fact, I was thinking about it last night, and realized that for however many times I’ve read Luke,
and however many times I’ve had these same readings to preach on,
I can’t really remember this story. I kind of vaguely know it,
but it never seemed to connect enough with my life
to be worth
paying it any attention.

Let me remind you of it.
Jesus said,
"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, `Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, `Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, `We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'”
For most of us,
we hear the story
and are immediately put off
by the reference to slavery.
We don’t have slaves;
that’s a part of our history as a nation
and we don’t want to go back there.
And even the gentler versions
that replace the word slave with servant
still seem uncomfortable.
Gone are the days when people commonly had live in help;
we have people who do things for us, but we pay them not as servants but as contractors.

Though we have to admit,
there are times when all of us probably treat people like servants, or even slaves,
when after a difficult encounter at the grocery store
or trying to get help from the phone company
we storm off saying,
“Isn’t that your job? That’s what I pay you to do!” and then as often as not
feel guilty about it afterwards, not so much because we were wrong in what we said, but we’re embarrassed for making a scene.

So the first part of Jesus’ story
isn’t one
that we feel particularly comfortable with,
and it doesn’t get any better.
Because then, Jesus switches sides, and instead of being invited to identify with the master, the slaveowner,
we’re expected to identify with the slave,
and what’s more,
to place in our mouths
the words of the slave,
“I am worthless. I’ve only done
what I was expected to do.”
None of us likes to be told
that we are worthless;
none of us wants to be devalued.
And so whether slaveowner or slave
this story of Jesus’
is one that we’re rather
forget.

But maybe there’s a clue to help us understand it
in the first part of this chapter. It all begins
with Jesus warning his disciples
that occasions for stumbling
are all too frequent.
we who call ourselves Christians, followers of Christ
easily get distracted, easily lose our way,
and so here we have a collection of Jesus’
words of wisdom
to keep us on track.
From that perspective
things look a little different.
That wonderful picture of the mustard seed,
that’s about not obsessing about how much faith
you do or don’t have --- presumably comparing yourself with other people --- not obsessing about what faith you have, but simply getting on with living faithfully, day by day, little by little.

And this one,
this story about slaveowners and slaves,
maybe what it’s talking about
is the tendency that we all have
to picture ourselves in the seat of control,
to see ourselves
as more powerful, more entitled
than perhaps we ought.

It’s one of the most subtle temptations.
Because it works with what is best about
being a Christian, knowing that we are loved, loved so much
that Christ gave his life for us,
that we somehow get an idea
that we are entitled to something.
It’s that temptation to think
that when Jesus describes himself as a servant
that what he’s talking about serving
is us.
And it’s only a short step to thinking
that the primary purpose of the church
is to serve us.

Last week I told you about the guy who spent a year
following all the rules of the bible. And there was one thing that struck me. At the end of the year
what stuck with him
was not the details, the 700 odd rules that he’d carried around with him for the last 365 days,
what stuck with him,
the gift it gave him
was an understanding
that life
is not about rights
but about responsibilities.

Our faith, our salvation,
comes as a free gift,
but with it
comes a whole new way of looking at things,
a way of looking at things
that sees life not as rights
but as responsibilities.
We’re not the masters.
We’re the slaves, or, as another translation puts it, servants.

And that shouldn’t surprise us.
Because that’s the way its described all through the New Testament, that Christ came as a servant.
Remember what it says in Philippians chapter 2?
Let the same mind be in you that was* in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
   did not regard equality with God
   as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
   taking the form of a slave,
   being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
   he humbled himself
   and became obedient to the point of death—
   even death on a cross.

Christ came as a servant, a servant not primarily of us but of God,
and we’re called to imitate him, to be servants of God,
of God in Christ, and of Christ in one another.
That’s the point of Jesus’ story:
we are servants, servants of God, and as servants, our job is to be obedient.
Our job is to take responsibility.

We all know those famous words tat John F Kennedy spoke in his inaugural speech in 1960:
“Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

It’s the same in the church. “Ask not what your church can do for you; ask what you can do for your church.” “Ask not what God can do for you; ask what you can do for God.”
It’s not to say
that God won’t do anything for us, that the church won’t do anything for us. Of course God will. Of course we will.
It’s to say that our calling as Christians
is to be servants.
That’s why in our baptismal covenant
the fourth question,
the question that our confirmation candidates are studying this week, is
“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving
your neighbor as yourself?”

And we answer, we vow, “We will, with God’s help.”

Our calling
is to be servants.
That’s what makes us different
that other organizations.
We don’t charge a membership fee
in exchange for certain services;
we don’t write contracts
that specify what you get for belonging.
Because that’s not what we’re here for.
We’re here
because God has invited us.
Were here
because God has called us.
We’re here
because God has gifted us.
We’re here
and God calls us to serve,
with our time
and our talents
and our treasure,
with who we are, and what we have,
and what we can do.

Amen.

©Raewynne J.Whiteley, 2007