Proper 25: October 24, 2004.

Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22

Psalm 84:1-6 (84:1-7 NRSV)

2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

Luke 18:9-14

This week's texts speak of prayer and worship in their many perspectives. The people of Judah lament, knowing that their repeated sins have brought on a crushing drought. The psalmist reflects on the joy of worship, when the faithful, traveling through the desert to Zion, are bathed in springs of cool water. Paul speaks of the crown of righteousness given with faith. Jesus tells a prayer parable about our relationship with God and with others.

What you are reading at harvest time I am writing during planting season, a period of abundant spring rain. Over Sunday dinner, the farmers wonder if even this much rain will be enough, and then the talk turns to other, drier years. "We prayed so hard for rain," they said. "Really, really prayed, harder than you can imagine, Pastor!" And they are right. Those of us with lifetimes in the city and suburbs, where abundant produce, bright flowers, and fat green grass are as easy as securing a parcel of dirt and hooking up a garden hose--we can't imagine drought and its desperate partner, prayer, for we live a far cry from the reality of the browned fields, the acres of short dried ears of corn or empty bean pods, and the bare cupboards and thin wallets that come from a summer with no rain.

Visualizing all this, hear anew the frenzied pleas of the ancients during their time of drought. They believe the covenantal curse from Deut 28:22, "The LORD will afflict you with consumption, fever, inflammation, with fiery heat and drought, and with blight and mildew; they shall pursue you until you perish." They also believe the covenantal promise. And so, after they cry out to God in anger, "Does your heart loathe Zion?" (Jer 14:19), they confess, "We have sinned against you" (v. 20); and then they pray for salvation, "Remember, and do not break your covenant with us.... We set our hope on you!" (vv. 21-22).

From these pained drought pleas, we move to the confident, joyful worship of the psalmist, thought to be celebrating the October harvest-time Feast of Booths. During this festival, the Hebrews dwelled in booths or tabernacles made of branches, which symbolized God's protection during their wilderness travels. Hear the words of joy, happiness, and praise at being in the presence of and being at home with God. Soul, heart, flesh; sparrow, swallow--all desire to dwell in the house of the LORD.

And once again, water is a blessing provided by God. As the pilgrims travel through the desert, the LORD "makes it a place of springs, and the early rain covers it with pools" (v. 6). There is not only beauty but life. Not only sustenance but hope. When the travelers "go from strength to strength" (v. 7), are they going from spring to spring, from pool to pool? If so, they recognize that they are moving under God's protection from oasis to oasis on their journey, from blessing to blessing through their lives. No wonder their devotion is so joyful!

These first two readings may point out an interesting sort of polarity in the reality of our worship. In our weekly gatherings, we bring before God the details of the stark circumstances of our lives. Like the people in Jeremiah's time, in praise and pleading, in confession and lament, we pray asking God to be present and help us. Then, on festival days, we set to the side for a moment the painful realities, be they of personal anguish or of drought on the land, and we devote ourselves totally to the praise of God. We focus on a particular event in the history and future of our faith, like the psalmist focused on the Festival of Booths, and we celebrate God's presence and work in our lives. We are at once anchored by remembering the past, at one with believers of all times and places, and at the same time set free by the hope of our future in Christ. Both the lament of Jeremiah and the praise of the psalmist are important to God and integral to the worship life of God's people.

Moving on to Timothy, while Paul's letter is full of liturgically rich words, it doesn't speak to us of worship in particular but, in the broadest and most glorious strokes, of a life of faith lived and now close to ending. Beginning in September, the Timothy texts have been directions, exhortations, and charges from Paul to Timothy, and therefore to us, on obedience, faithfulness, and ministry. The concluding instruction last week was a nutshell description of the most Christlike ministry possible: "As for you, always be sober, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, carry out your ministry fully" (4:5).

Now, as we come closer to the end of the church year, we hear Paul's final greetings and, as he draws closer to death, his perspective shifts. "As for me," Paul begins, and in three sentences he sums up his faith and his life--he has fought and he has finished. From his confession we understand that we are not called to be spectacular (although certainly Paul and Timothy were, in many ways), that being patient and steady wins the crown. Fighting, keeping the faith, and finishing--those are the things that count. And what kind of crown is this? Not earthly, but eternal. Therefore, not the crown of fresh leaves given to athletes; those leaves wither and die. The crown of Jesus' righteousness lasts forever. And it goes not to one winner alone but to many. The crown of Jesus' righteousness is for all who have longed for Christ's appearing.

And what do the men praying in Luke's Gospel long for? Justification? Righteousness? Yes! That same beautiful, eternal crown that Paul looks forward to is the goal and delight of the praying Pharisee and the praying tax collector. They just go about it in different ways, and that of course is Jesus' point in telling the parable. Both go to the temple, both stand to pray. And there the similarities end. We are told that the Pharisee is praying to himself, pros eauton tauta proseucheto. To give him some credit, he does address God, but his next word is "I," and the whole rest of his prayer is a litany about himself and his accomplishments under the law. "I ... I ... I ... I ...," he says.

The tax collector, on the other hand, expresses his entire situation by hanging his head and beating his chest. His entire prayer is "God, be merciful to me, the sinner!"

Of course there is more to this parable than what to say and how to pray. Righteousness is the gift of God for all who believe; it does not come to those who live by the letter of the law. And those who believe depend on God for everything; they pray "Thy will be done" or "God be merciful to me." The Pharisee asks for nothing and may get it. The tax collector asks for everything, and Jesus says he will be exalted.

Note one final and important component of this teaching, how we regard others. In God's kingdom there is no such thing as a despised Pharisee or a hated tax collector. Only those who fancy themselves righteous by their own works would dare to have contempt for others. Faithfulness to God includes compassion for all of God's creation. RKB