"Unfortunately, we enjoy thinking about other people's faults: and in the proper sense of the word 'morbid,' that is the most morbid pleasure in the world."...  "and while we are governed by this vice, there can be no Heaven for you, just as there can be no sweet smells for a man with a cold in the nose, and no music for a man who is deaf.  It's not a question of God "sending" us to hell.  In each of us there is something growing up which will of itself be Hell unless it is nipped in the bud."

There is an old legend about Judas that after his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent, he looked up and saw way, way up a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards the light. The walls of the pit were dark and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top and then he slipped and fell all the way back down to the bottom. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb up again. After many more falls and efforts and failures, he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around the table. "We've been waiting for you, Judas," Jesus said. "We couldn't begin till you came."
 
So many people are looking for a community of forgiven and forgiving sinners. Would they find what they are seeking here?

My mother shared with me an email she received with this "Affirmation for Today", by an unknown author. In part it reads, "Today I will find the grace to let go of resentments of others and self-condemnation over past mistakes. Today I will not try to change, or improve, anybody but me. Today I will act toward others as though this will be my last day on earth. Today I will be unafraid. I will enjoy what is beautiful, and I will believe that as I give to the world, the world will give to me." As children of God, we can trust that we can find our grace, freely offered, by God who loves us so much. Full of faith, full of grace, we can begin to give - give to God, give to our church, give to our families, give to our neighbors, rejoicing in the love of God that knows no bounds.

As many of you know, we are looking for an office administrator. One of the candidates I interviewed caught me a bit off guard when she asked what the members of the congregation would think about a secretary who was divorced. I hadn't really thought about that question. Then a fellow pastor told about the secretary at his church whom he learned had been a prostitute. She was a very good secretary, and very few members of the congregation knew anything about her former life. But she did not feel very good about herself. She despised what she had done and she despised the men who paid her for the use of her body. She also despised the people she believed would condemn her if they knew of her former profession. She was desperately looking for love and acceptance.

One week my friend preached on the Gospel lesson for today, and it was the secretary's job to type up his sermon. When she finished typing it, she asked to talk with the pastor. She didn't understand the statement he had made that Jesus accepted all people knowing who and what they were. For she could not believe that God or God's people could accept her, knowing who she was and what she had done. The pastor read her from this text from Luke 7. The secretary got tears in her eyes. "How I wish I was that woman," she said. "That woman is you!" he replied and she cried. "Would you baptize me, knowing what I am?" she asked. He did, and her baptism was one of the most moving events in his ministry.

There is an old story about the Greek Marathon. Muscular, conditioned runners paced nervously near the starting line for the long-distance race. The time was near. They "shook out" their muscles, inhaled deeply, and put on their "game faces." In the midst of it all, a young stranger took his place at the starting line. His physique was awesome. Taking no notice of the other contestants, he stared straight ahead. Two prizes would be awarded the winner of the Marathon: a magnificent bouquet of flowers and the honor of standing beside the king until the conclusion of other contests. There seemed to be no question among the runners about who would win the prize. It is alleged that the stranger was offered money not to run. Someone else attempted to bribe him with property. Refusing the offers, he toed the mark and awaited the signal to run. When the signal was given, he was the first away. At the finish line, he was the first to cross, well ahead of the rest. When it was all done, someone asked the young man if he thought the flowers were worth as much as the money and property he had refused. He replied, "I did not enter the race for the flowers. I ran so that I could stand beside my king!"

Again, the woman who "intruded" into the Pharisee's house apparently had one thing on her mind. She wanted to stand beside her king.

Wallace D. Chappell tells that following one of his sermons a little girl came to the front of the church to meet him. He was the guest evangelist in the church for the week, so he did not know her nor her older sister who stood close by. The older sister was encouraging her to tell something to Chappell, the nature of which was not immediately clear. Finally, after considerable coaxing, the little girl told that on the day before she had received a telephone call from a lady who was visiting in the city from out of state. The lady had dialed the wrong number. Although the little girl did not know who the lady was, she began to talk to her. Reaching to make conversation, as children often do, the girl remembered that there would be preaching at her church that evening so she passed along that bit of information and invited the lady to attend. The little girl, warming to her story as she told it, said, "The lady said she hadn't been inside a church in 20 years." Then, with excitement in her voice, the child said, "She was at church tonight. I talked to her. And when you asked for people to accept Jesus, she was one of those who came forward."

The lady was from out of state. She was in that particular city for a particular purpose and had her own agenda. To go into a strange church and hear a visiting evangelist preach was not a big item on her list of things to do. It was not a good time. But something about the little girl's invitation led her to take advantage of the opportunity. Probably a dozen reasons why she could not go raced through her mind: the circumstances were not right, she didn't have time; you can imagine the other reasons. At some point, however, it came to her that although things were not as she would have arranged them, it was an opportunity and she would seize it.

When you are waiting on the "right time" to come to Christ or if you are delaying your commitment until circumstances are "right," remember the woman in Luke's story who was so full of joy and gratitude that she would take advantage of any opportunity to praise God for what he had done for her through Christ Jesus her Lord! Those who are resolved will "catch as catch can." Those who have no resolve will never catch up to just the right opportunity. It will always be the wrong time.

Senator William Proximire (D-Wisconsin) regularly delights the general public by awarding his now-famous "Golden Fleece Award" to some government committee or agency which, because of some redundant high-dollar project, has achieved recognition for excelling in flagrant, wasteful, unnecessary spending. Senator Proximire gets our attention because he illuminates a subject of interest to us all: how money is spent. We do not like to spend more than we have to and have little tolerance for irresponsible, reckless spending wherever it occurs. "Throwing money out in the yard" and "pouring sand down a rat hole" are expressions which we hope to successfully avoid having applied to ourselves. It really doesn't matter whether we speak of it as stewardship, frugality, or practicality. Wasteful spending is offensive to anyone who attempts to be responsible with personal resources.

Extravagance, or even what appears to be extravagance, does not go down well. We need to remember that whether we read of the woman anointing Jesus' head (Matthew 26:6f) or the woman anointing his feet (Luke 7:36f).

That precocious little boy from the comics, Calvin, walked into the living room where his father was sitting in a chair reading. Calvin announces: "I've concluded that nothing bad that I do is my fault."

Dad's curiosity is peaked, so Dad says, "Oh?"

Calvin continues: "Right! Being young and impressionable, I'm the helpless victim of countless bad influences! An unwholesome culture panders to my undeveloped values and pushes me to malfeasance. I take no responsibility for my behavior! I'm an innocent pawn! It's society's fault."

Dad is totally unimpressed and says, "Then you need to build more character. Go shovel the walk."

In the last scene, Calvin is shoveling snow and complains, "These discussions never go where they're supposed to go."

Many of us are just like Calvin, we don't want to take responsibility for our actions. We don't want to be accountable. We don't want to own up to our faults and our sinfulness. We delude ourselves by blaming the stink of sin on others.

A lot of what God had done throughout history hasn't seemed fair to people. Why was Jacob not denounced by God for his conniving ways?  Why was David not disowned by God for his disgraceful actions?  Why was the adulteress not condemned by Jesus for her open disregard of the moral laws?  Why was Peter not disavowed by God after his blatant denial of Christ in the courtyard? Why was Paul not banished by God forever because of his persecution of the Christians early in his life?  Why?  That is the question: Why?  And the answer is because there is nothing in the world so tenacious and resolute as the grace of God.  The Gospel of John tells us:  "God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."

Bass Mitchell, my preacher friend from West Virginia, tells about the damaged goods bin at the grocery store where he worked in his first job. He says: "I started out as a bag boy but soon was promoted - given my own aisle to stock. Trucks brought in hundreds of boxes of food every week and we had to unpack them and put the stock on the shelves. Almost every week, however, we would open a box and find that some of the cans or cartons had been damaged. Some of the cans, for example had lost their labels, had dents, were crushed, and sometimes so badly that some of the contents had come out.

"Well, we were told by the manager not to put these on the shelves because no one would buy them. So, we often would place them in a large basket in the front of the store. And on the basket was a large sign that read, "Damaged Goods. Cheap." But not very many people bought them. Most just ignored them. Often we ended up sending them back to the manufacturers.

Bass Mitchell adds, "It seems to me that a lot of people feel like this. Whatever the reason, things they've done, things life has done to them, things beyond their control, have made them feel like damaged goods...bent out of shape, crushed, of little value to themselves or anyone else."

Rev. Mitchell once saw a woman being interviewed on television. She was a single parent with two children and had been divorced several years. She was being asked what it was like being a single parent and if there was any romance in her life now. "I look at myself," she said, "as damaged goods." She did not think anyone could love her again. Her sense of worth was zero.

I wonder if the woman in our text for today felt that way about herself? Did she feel like she was damaged goods, valued by no one, ignored by many and perhaps looked down on by the rest?

Faith is the rare courage to act on that which you cannot yet prove to be true.
Faith is leaving a fresh grave with enough hope to carry on.
Faith is writing a song of thanksgiving when the rent is due.
Faith is accepting forgiveness when it seems nothing more than a distant dream.
Faith is proclaiming peace while you still feel the turmoil inside.
Faith is letting your hair down enough to receive the mercy of God.

When Charles Spurgeon was pastor at New Park Street in London, God used his words to bring about amazing changes in the lives of people. A man who was on his way to get some gin saw the crowd at the church door and pushed his way in to see what was going on. At that moment, Spurgeon turned and faced the man and said that there was a man in the gallery who had a gin bottle in his pocket and had come with no good motive. The startled man listened to the rest of the message and was converted.

One evening a prostitute, on her way to Blackfriars Bridge to commit suicide, stopped at the church, hoping to hear some word that would prepare her to meet her maker. Spurgeon was preaching from Luke 7:36-50, the story of the prostitute who wiped Jesus feet with her tears. His text was verse 44; "Seest thou this woman?" As Spurgeon preached, the woman saw herself but also saw the grace of God and trusted Christ.

Some have noted that grace is like water. It always flows downhill. It may snow at 29,000 feet at the top of Mount Everest but eventually that moisture flows down to the sea. In the same way grace always goes to the lowest places in our lives. God is seeking the lost to save them, to search for the outcast, to forgive the secret sins which we do not like to recognize or acknowledge. God in Christ is seeking just those sinful, shameful places which we hide from others to reconcile us.

A newspaper carried the story of a man who bought a new Cadillac. Every time the car hit a slight bump there was an awful thumping. Twice he took the car to be examined. But they never could find the cause. Always there was the thumping. Finally, the servicemen narrowed the problem to one door of the car. When they took the door apart, they found a coke bottle inside. In the bottle was a note which read: "So you finally found me, you wealthy (blankety-blank)." You see, a worker was so filled with resentment he thought he could destroy the satisfaction of the person who had enough money to buy a Cadillac. Actually, the worker's grudges and resentments had infested his own mind and his everyday job. The satisfaction being destroyed was his own. Thus he made his work-life a slave to his perceived enemies.

The greatness of Christianity lies not in its development of small pockets of congenial intimacies. The greatness of Christianity is in its expansive spirit that overthrows resentments, takes in enemies, embraces rivals and seeks the good in all sorts of people across all barriers that class and race can erect.

O God, you do not wish any sinner to die, but want all people to turn from their sins and live.  We pray for our sinful brother, forgiving all his wrong-doing and turning his heart towards you.  By his own merits he deserves only punishment, but in your mercy we pray that you will bestow upon him eternal life.

At the University of Notre Dame in 1981 a rather prophetic lecture was given that predicted the collapse of the Soviet Union. The lecturer called Communism "a sad, bizarre chapter in human history whose last pages are even now being written." A year later the same speaker told the British House of Commons that the march of freedom and democracy "will leave Marxism-Leninism on the ash heap of history." Years later, in 1988, students at Moscow University sat and listened as this same speaker told them how the microchip would lead the way in expanding human freedom. Indeed, even that prediction is coming true. The Internet may be playing a critical role in dismantling china's communism. Remember now that this 1988, long before the advent of the Internet.

Who was this Speaker? This lecturer who looked into the future and was able to rightly discern where history was taking us? It was Ronald Reagan. Putting political preferences aside for just a moment I think all of us would have to agree that on at least a few crucial issues Reagan got it right. He looked into the future and steered us correctly. What is it that gives some people the ability to look at a situation and rightly sized it up? It seems to be a kind of gift doesn't it?

This is one of the qualities that separate the great men from the ordinary. In our story this morning (in Luke 7) certain insights are being expressed. A gathering of men at a dinner party has just witnessed a woman, who they all know to be a woman of ill repute, walk into the room with an alabaster jar of expensive perfume. She walks up behind Jesus and kneels. She is crying. As she weeps her tears fall onto his feet. She uses her hair as a towel to dry his feet and then she pours the expensive perfume on his feet. This is the scene and it is a sudden departure from the evening's festivities. But it now becomes the focal point of Jesus' teachings.

Now, listen to how the Pharisee sizes up the situation. He has two insights. On the first he is correct and on the second he is incorrect. Here they are: First he is correct about the lady. She was known in the community as a sinner. Her sin is not revealed to us but most of us could come pretty close in guessing it. Whatever it was the Pharisee rightly judged the woman's character. But here is where he failed. His insights and perceptions about Jesus were wrong. He said that if Jesus were a prophet he would know that this woman was a sinner and he would not let her touch him.

The Pharisee was wrong because the character of this woman was not lost on Jesus. And here is the beautiful part of the passage. Jesus knew who she was but he had moved beyond that to forgive the woman her sins. Jesus sizes up the situation and recognizes that grace is needed in this woman's life.

Now let's ask ourselves this question. Whether we are looking at an incredibly destructive institution or the loathsome practice of prostitution, whatever sin we find in the world are we able to look beyond the facts, size up the situation, see down the road and know what kind of grace is needed? We can do this if we can:

1. Be honest and call sin sin.
2. Use these moments to teach others.
3. Remember that redemption always wins in the end.

Life is a matter of building. Each of us has the opportunity to build something: a secure family, a good reputation, a career, a relationship to God. But some of those things can disappear almost overnight due to financial losses, natural disasters and other unforeseen difficulties.

What are we to do? Daniel Webster offered excellent advice, saying, "If we work on marble it will perish. If we work on brass, time will efface it. If we rear temples, they will crumble to dust. But if we work on men's immortal minds, if we imbue them with high principles, with just fear of God and love of their fellow-men, we engrave on those tablets something which time cannot efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity."

Today's gospel reminds me of the story of the cookie thief. A woman at the airport waiting to catch her flight bought herself a bag of cookies, settled in a chair in the airport lounge and began to read her book. Suddenly she noticed the man beside her helping himself to her cookies. Not wanting to make a scene, she read on, ate cookies, and watched the clock. As the daring "cookie thief" kept on eating the cookies she got more irritated and said to herself, "If I wasn't so nice, I'd blacken his eye!" She wanted to move the cookies to her other side but she couldn't bring her self to do it. With each cookie she took, he took one too. When only one was left, she wondered what he would do. Then with a smile on his face and a nervous laugh, he took the last cookie and broke it in half. He offered her half, and he ate the other. She snatched it from him and thought, "Oh brother, this guy has some nerve, and he's also so rude, why, he didn't even show any gratitude!" She sighed with relief when her flight was called. She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate, refusing to look at the ungrateful "thief," and still a bit angry. She boarded the plane and sank in her seat, reached in her bag to get her book and Next to her book was her bag—of cookies.

The cookies they ate in the lounge were his not hers. She had been the thief not him.

The cookie thief story reminds us, as we see in today's gospel, that it often happens that the one pointing the accusing finger turns out to be the guilty one, that the complainant sometimes turns out to be the offending party. In the cookie story, the woman believed she was such a wonderful person to put up with the rudeness and ingratitude of the man sitting beside her. In the end she discovered that she was the rude and ungrateful one and the man was wonderfully friendly. In the gospel the Pharisee thinks he is the righteous one who is worthy to be in the company of Jesus and that the woman was the sinful one unworthy to be seen with Jesus. In the end Jesus showed each of them where they really belonged and the woman was seen as the one who was righteous and more deserving of the company of Jesus than the self-righteous Pharisee.

Legend has it that before the Reformation, before he transformed the church, Martin Luther was in his room in the monastery weeping because of his sins. His confessor, a young man, simply didn't know what to do, so he began repeating the Apostles' Creed

"I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; From thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

"I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy Catholic Church; the communion of Saints; the forgiveness of sins; the . . . ."

Wait!" Luther interrupted his confessor. "What did you say?"

What do you mean, what did I say?"

That last part. What was it again?"

Oh, that. I said, ‘I believe in the forgiveness of sins.'"

"The forgiveness of sins," Luther said as if savoring each word. "The forgiveness of sins. Then there is hope for me somewhere. Then maybe there is a way to God."

There is a way to God. Jesus Christ died to provide that way. We may not be a woman of the city but there are sins that break our hearts as well. And there is One who sees those broken hearts and cares, and forgives, and heals, and makes whole.

A certain young woman was nervous about meeting her boyfriend's parents for the first time. As she checked out her appearance one last time, she noticed that her shoes looked dingy. So she gave them a fast swipe with the paper towel she had used to blot the bacon she had for breakfast.

Arriving at the impressive home, she was greeted by the parents and their much-beloved, but rotten-tempered, poodle. The dog got a whiff of the bacon grease on the young woman's shoes and followed her around all evening. At the end of the evening, the pleased parents remarked, "Cleo really likes you, dear, and she is an excellent judge of character. We are delighted to welcome you into our little family."

It seems that perhaps Cleo was a better judge of bacon grease than she was a judge of character.

The Pharisees believed that Jesus wasn't a very good judge of character. Think back to our scripture reading for today.

A child psychologist told about a boy who was brought to him who was labeled "incorrigible." The child was supposed to be "uncontrollable." He was moody, and at first wouldn't even talk to the psychologist. There simply seemed to be no "handle" with which to take hold of him. The boy's own father, said, "This is the only child I've ever seen who doesn't have a single likeable trait, not a single one." The psychologist realized this was his starting point. He started looking for some one thing he could approve. He found several. The boy liked to carve and he did it well. At home he had carved up the furniture and been punished for it. The psychologist bought him a carving set, a set of carving knives, and some soft wood. He also gave him some suggestions about how to use them, and didn't hold back his approval.

"You know, Jimmy," he said, "you can carve out things better than any boy I ever knew." To make a long story short, the psychologist soon found other things he could approve, and one day Jimmy surprised everyone by cleaning up his own room without being asked. When the psychologist asked him why he did it, Jimmy answered, "I thought you would like that."

Acceptance changes lives. You and I have seen it happen in other situations with adults as well as young people. This is the strength of groups like Alcoholics Anonymous and other support groups. When people feel accepted, they find the power to change.

This was one of the secrets of Jesus' ministry. He accepted people just as they were and he changed their lives.

As Paul Tillich put it so eloquently: "Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness . . . It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign with us as they have for decades . . . Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: " ‘You are accepted. . . .'"

We are accepted. Now we must accept others. The greatest need some people have is to be accepted. Acceptance changes lives. Let's you and I work together to make this house of worship known as a place where people can discover the acceptance of God and of the Christian community.

The full Tillich quote: Grace Strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage. Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness and it is as though a voice were saying: “You are accepted. You are accepted. Accepted by that which is greater than you and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek anything, do not perform anything, do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted. If that happens to us, we experience grace.

The theme of poverty, riches, possessions and the realm of God is a constant theme of Luke. It begins with Mary's song. Mary had an encounter with an angel. "You will bear a son and call his name Jesus," the angel announced. "Let it be with me according to your word," said Mary. Elizabeth, Mary's relative, blessed Mary for her trust that God's word of promise would be fulfilled. And then Mary sang a song. Mary's song may just well be the central song of Luke's entire gospel. Luke tells many stories in his gospel that are best understood as comments on her song!

Mary's song sings of a God of great reversals. This God has high regard for a lowly maiden. This God scatters the proud and puts down the mighty from their thrones. The high are made low and the low are exalted. This God, furthermore, fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty-handed. That's the kind of God that Mary sings about it. A God of great reversals. A God who makes the rich poor and the poor rich.

Jesus sings a similar song in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth. During the worship service that day Jesus was given the scroll of Isaiah that he might read it to the congregation. "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me," Jesus read, "because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4:18-19). Isaiah had prophesied that God would send a spirit-filled servant who would bring a great reversal to human affairs. After he had finished reading from the Isaiah scroll, Jesus gave it to the attendant and sat down. Every eye in the synagogue was fixed upon him. Jesus spoke. "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing," he said. He was the spirit-filled servant of whom Isaiah had prophesied. He was the one who would bring great reversals to life in fulfillment of Mary's song. He was the one who brought good news to the poor.

"Blessed are you poor." We should not be surprised at these words of Jesus to his disciples. In Luke 6:20-26 Jesus also speaks of great reversals. The poor will be blessed. The hungry will be satisfied. The weeping ones shall laugh. Those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake will rejoice. Reversals work the other way as well. The weak of the earth will be blessed but the mighty of the earth shall be filled with woe. Woe to the rich. Woe to those who are full now. Woe to those who laugh now. Woe to those of whom the world now speaks well.

John the Baptist watched Jesus' ministry from afar. John wondered about Jesus. Was he really the promised Messiah? John sent some of his disciples to Jesus with just this question. "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" John's disciples asked Jesus on John's behalf (Luke 7:21). Jesus had an answer for John. "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard," he instructs John's disciples, "the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Luke 7:22). The "great reversals" have begun. That's Jesus' word to John.

Today's story from Luke is a story in this lineage. A great reversal takes place. The rich man is sent away empty. The poor hear good news!"

Christmas was and is the feast for the poor.  Christmas is a festival for the poor, a banquet for the poor.  We are reminded that at Christmas time (and all times), the poor are to be clothed, the hungry are to be filled, the handicapped and blind are to be nourished. These values are at the heart of the original Christmas pageant in the gospel of Luke, and these same values are found then in the rest of Luke's gospel as well. The poor are to be exalted, not only at Christmastime, but also throughout the whole year.

This Christmas gospel, this original Christmas pageant, continues in the story about St. Nicholas. You have learned before, in other sermons and classes, that St. Nicholas was a figure from history and was a bishop of Smyrna in Turkey in the year 350 A.D. St. Nicholas, as you recall, was not some fat bellied, red suited, white bearded old man. St. Nicholas did not have eight rein deer, one with a red nose. St. Nicolas did not have a toy factory located near the North Pole and subsidized by Toys R Us. Nor did St. Nicholas sing his favorite song, "I know when you've been sleeping; I know when you're awake; I know when you've bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. O, you better watch out…"  

St.Nicolas's vision was not to terrorize all the children into being good children and then if they were good, to give them a present. Not at all. St. Nicholas was a historical figure, the kindly bishop of Smyrna, who went around giving presents to poor children. Not to children who had sent letters to the North Pole. Not to those who were good. Not to children who were rich. No. St. Nicholas himself was a poor person and he gave presents to poor children. St. Nicholas understood that in the original Christmas pageant, Christmas was a pageant for the poor.

Exodus 30:25 - "And thou shalt make it an oil for holy ointment, an ointment compound after the art of the apothecary; it shall be an holy anointing oil" (KJV).

The art of the apothecary is a very ancient one, probably dating back to pre-history, when man first learned to use herbs and barks to heal himself. However, although the word names a compounder of drugs, oils, and perfumes, it was in this latter sense that it was most often used in biblical times. All large Oriental towns had their perfumers’ street. Their stock included anything fragrant in the way of loose powder, compressed cake, or essences in spirit, oil, or fat, as well as seeds, leaves, and bark. Even before 400 B.C., they had formed themselves into guilds.

As our text tells us, the apothecaries blended the incense and the holy anointing oil for religious ceremonies. Perfume was also an important ingredient in this ritual oil. In addition, the ritual of Baal worshipers (Isaiah 57:9), and the embalming of the dead and the rites of burial (Genesis 1:12; Luke 23:56) all used the perfume. The apothecary compounded and sold these sweet spices and anointing oils.

Perfumes were made by compressing fresh flowers into a bag, by soaking flowers in fat, or by dipping flowers into hot fats or oils at 150 F. The modern method of distilling an essence was not used. The oil of myrrh and other gum resins was obtained by heating the substance in oil or fat and water to prevent the evaporation of the scent. The essence of the myrrh was transferred to the oil or fat, which could be strained off as liquid perfume. Myrrh was an important ingredient of the sacred anointing oil, and its mention in the Ras Shamra documents shows that is was prized as early as the second millenium B.C. We, of course, are familiar with it as one of the gifts given to the infant Jesus. Those who seek for symbolism here say that it was to signal his death. And, as he hung on the Cross, he was indeed offered "wine mingled with myrrh" (Mark 15:23).

Another of the major roles of the apothecary was as a cosmetician. In general, the Jewish attitude toward cosmetics was favorable, except in excessive use. Perhaps the most common cosmetic in the Bible is ointment, which, again, was often perfumed. This was different from the anointing oil, which was reserved for religious ceremonies. Rather, it is necessary in a hot, dry climate to keep the skin soft and moist; the perfume was used to counter-act body odors, in a land where water was at a premium! Eye paint is mentioned, but generally in connection with harlots. Possibly the Jewish women learned the art of cosmetics from the Egyptians and Babylonians; excavated tombs have unearthed many tools of the cosmeticians trade.

Some of the cosmetics that were used by the ancient Jews, but which are not mentioned in the Bible are rouge, powder, and hair dye. The Mishnah forbids the use of rouge on the sabbath (Shab. 10:6; this has also been interpreted as "parting the hair"). Women’s powder made of flour is to be removed from the house before the Passover (M. Pes. 3:1). Josephus says that Herod the Great dyed his hair.

The other occupation of the apothecary was in the preparation of some medicines, although this, surprisingly enough, was not a main phase of his art. You see, physicians generally made their own salves and ointments, or prepared their own liquid medications, so that in this day, the apothecary differed from the modern pharmacist. However, he did make some, and for these he used such ingredients as herbs, minerals, wines, animal substances, fruits, and leaves.

The trend has reversed in our day. The apothecary is no longer the maker of cosmetics and perfumes. We have whole industries specializing in these products. Rather, the present-day apothecary is the pharmacist. In fact, unless I am mistaken, in England he is still called an apothecary. We are all aware of the type of service which our pharmacist gives us, the training and skill that go in to the preparation of the many life-saving drugs which are available to us. And, of course, we can’t stop with the corner pharmacist. We must also include the employees of the great drug and medicine manufacturing companies. They mix and test and distill just as their long-gone counterparts did. And they are respected practitioners of an ancient trade, and held in high regard, just as the ancient apothecary was highly regarded by the people of his time.

So much has been written, discussed, and speculated about Judas that we feel we know enough about him already. And really, what more is there to say of him other than he is for all times the supreme symbol of betrayal? Nothing, unless we are willing to admit that there was such about his life which causes us to be introspective about our own.

1. Jesus had confidence in him. To begin with, Jesus observed qualities about Judas which were suitable for discipleship. Had there been no goodness, no promise, no ability, Judas certainly would not have been included among the Twelve. Moreover, he was capable and trustworthy enough to be selected as treasurer for the group. So for whatever reason, future potential or ability already acquired, Jesus had confidence in him.

Has not Christ placed tremendous confidence in us? The care of his church, the propagation of his message, the extension of his ministry, faithfulness to our vows. Shall we too betray his confidence?

2. Judas knew how to be discerning. He was not without practical judgment. The care of the treasury would hardly be entrusted to a reckless, emotion-driven individual. Judas was present in the house of Mary and Martha when Mary anointed the feet of Jesus with an expensive ointment. His protest of the anointing is not without merit, inasmuch as his concern was not for himself, but that the ointment could have been sold and the money given to the poor. From time to time a similar protest is raised today by those who question the wisdom of erecting church facilities costing hundreds of thousands of dollars while so many hungry remain to be fed.

Each of us has been entrusted with the freedom of choice and the ability to discern. Do we betray Christ by our choices?

3. Judas had opportunity. His position among Christ’s chosen naturally enabled him to produce a positive witness. And even near the end, he had the opportunity to abort his scheme, the motive of which is still unclear to us. Jesus announced at the table that the one who would betray him would dip in the same dish as the others. Judas played dumb, but inwardly he knew that Jesus saw through his pretense. Judas had opportunity.

As members of Christ’s family, we have numerous opportunities to make positive witnesses. As a people who have followed our own schemes and well-devised plans, we have the opportunity to repent. Shall we betray Christ by bungling our opportunity?

4. Judas had access to Jesus. The fact that Judas was able to walk up to Christ in the garden and greet him with a kiss, the traditional greeting of a disciple for a teacher, clearly establishes that he had easy access to Jesus.

The Scriptures tell us that Christ serves as our "high priest," interceding on our behalf, having access to God, even as we have access to the Son through prayer. To neglect prayer and the spiritual life is to abuse the access. Shall we betray Christ by abusing our access?

What more is there to say of Judas, unless we are willing to admit that there was such about his life which causes us to be introspective about our own?

A few years ago there was a true story about a man in New York City who was kidnapped. His kidnappers called his wife and asked for $100,000 ransom. She talked them down to $30,000.

The story had a happy ending: the man returned home unharmed, the money was recovered, and the kidnappers were caught and sent to jail. But, don't you wonder what happened when the man got home and found that his wife got him back for a discount? Calvin Trillin was the writer of this story. He imagined out loud what the negotiations must have been like: "$100,000 for that old guy? You have got to be crazy. Just look at him! Look at that gut! You want $100,000 for that? You've got to be kidding. Give me a break here. $30,000 is my top offer."

Mark Trotter concluded his rendition of the story with this thoughtful comment: "I suppose there are some here this morning who can identify with the wife in that story, but for some reason I find myself identifying with the husband. I'd like to think if I were in a similar situation, there would be people who would spare no expense to get me back. They wouldn't haggle over the price. They wouldn't say, 'Well, let me think about it.' I like to think that they would say, 'We'll do anything for you.'"

The point of that story is this: sometimes it's O.K. to be extravagant! Now, that is precisely what this story in the Gospel of Mark is all about. Remember the story with me. Jesus is on His way to the cross. It is just a few days before Passover. The chief priests and scribes are plotting against Him. Judas is about ready to betray Him. The crucifixion is less than a week away and Jesus knows it. Jesus and His disciples stop at Bethany. just a few days before, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead there in Bethany. Now, as they are having dinner, a woman comes to Jesus and does a beautiful but extravagant thing for our Lord. The Gospel of John tells us that the woman was Mary, (the sister of Martha and Lazarus). Mary brings an alabaster jar of very expensive ointment. She breaks open the jar and pours the costly perfumed oil on Jesus' head. She anoints His head with oil.

Why did she do that? Some say it was an act of gratitude in which she was thanking Jesus for raising her brother Lazarus from the dead. Some say it was an act of consecration in which she was baptizing Jesus to encourage Him to go into the HolyCity and do what had to be done. Others say it was a foreshadowing, an act of preparation, in which she was anointing His body for the death which was to come in Jerusalem a few days later. All say it was an act of love and kindness.

But Judas said it was a waste. If you lived strictly by the Judas mind-set, you would have no Spire on the church, no flowers on the altar, no art on the wall, no robes for the choir, no fine organ, no beautiful weddings. Your daughter would come to you and say, "I'm in love and I'm so happy. I want to get married." And you would say, "Well, why don't you just elope? It's much cheaper. It would be wasteful to have a wedding." But the Mary mind-set says, "Sometimes in the name of love and kindness and gratefulness; it's O.K. Indeed, it's beautiful to be extravagant." Let me show you what I mean.

1. First Of All, It's OK To Be Extravagant In Our Generosity.

2. Second, It's OK To Be Extravagant In Our Gratitude.

3. Third And Finally, It's OK To Be Extravagant In Our Graciousness.

One day a father of a wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the purpose of showing him how poor people can be. They spent a day and a night on the farm of a very poor family. On their way back to their home, father and son got into a conversation about all they had experienced while at the farm.

"What did you think of our trip to the farm," asked the father.

"It was very good, Dad!"

"Did you see how poor people can be?" continued his father.

"Yeah!

"And what did you learn?"

"I saw that, while we have a dog at home, they have four dogs," the son replied. "We have a pool that reaches to the middle of the garden, while they have a creek that has no end. We have electric lamps in the garden, and they have a sky full of stars. Our patio goes all the way to the wall around our property. They have the whole horizon." When the little boy was finished, his father was speechless. "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we really are!"

Nicodemus could not understand his poverty of soul until Jesus showed him how poor he really was. Nicodemus was a pillar of society and a religious leader but those things had little meaning. Nicodemus, Jesus said, you must be born again. The little boy saw what the father could not the value of the farm. Poverty is in the eye of the beholder.

What happened at Jesus' anointing in Bethany has plagued the followers of Jesus from then until now. How much do we spend on ourselves and how much do we give to missions? Couldn't we do more good by giving all this money to the poor instead of spending it on, say, a new building?

In partial response to this question, my mind goes back to an experience of William Willimon, chaplain at Duke University. Willimon tells of the time the faculty of Duke was discussing a proposal to renovate the seminary chapel. They had received a modest proposal from the architect. But, would the chapel be renovated? No. "With all the poverty and hunger in the world," said one faculty member, "how can we as Christians justify spending $50,000 to pretty-up our chapel?" Of course, this person failed to offer similar objections when faculty salaries were raised each year, (a figure that collectively exceeds $50,000) nor does he question the morality of the luxurious faculty lounge. Obviously the man was posturing, just as Judas was posturing. Even so, the problem is tough. How much should we give to others and how much should we reserve for ourselves?

The gospel story for today could be entitled, "The Original Christmas Pageant." In both the first two chapters of Luke and in the rest of the gospel, we hear of God's special concern for the poor. Both in the whole gospel of Luke and in the first two chapters of prelude, there is a preoccupation with those who live in poverty.  I would like to suggest to you that the forgotten element of Luke's original Christmas pageant is the theme of poverty and poor people themselves. The poverty of the Christmas story is often the forgotten element.

Dr. Walter Pilgrim's book about the gospel of Luke is entitled, GOOD NEWS FOR THE POOR.  This professor, who is from Pacific Lutheran University and often teaches at our congregation, reminds us that ALL of the characters from Luke's original Christmas pageant were poor people. ALL of them!  The story about the three wise men with their gold, frankincense and myrrh is not a story from the gospel of Luke but from the book of Matthew.  For Luke, ALL the characters in his Christmas play are poor people.

It was one of the most wonderful and exciting moments in the history of the Christian faith. The Holy Spirit had fallen fresh on the lives of believers. People were filled with the passion and fires of the Holy Ghost. They were shouting joy from all directions. They were gathered from every persuasion and city, every nation and province, all glorifying God, speaking in foreign tongues but understanding each other, expressing different voices but still in one accord. This was the time of Pentecost, when God saw fit to pour out the spirit which spawned the birth of the Christian Church.

Today we need the fervor, fire, tongues, passion, and Spirit of Pentecost. Today the Christian Church needs a rebirth of the spirit, where souls are on fire with the love of Christ, where barriers are broken down and superficial divisions which sequester and divide people are bridged through a unity of the Spirit. Today more than ever the church needs to recapture the fires of Pentecost so that souls can break free from bondage, and healing, deliverance, and the full power of God's anointing can be experienced in every medium and every idiom by people filled with Holy Ghost madness.

Too many churches today are devoid of the Spirit of Pentecost because they are dry, stale, and discordant, where parishioners are in a somnambulist stupor; where worship services are vapid, staid, and wooden; where the preaching is dull, flat, and insipid; where the singing is Geritol-tired and without the vim, verve, and verse which speaks of a crucified, died and risen Lord; where if anyone taps his foot and says, "Amen," he is stared into silence, and if anyone shouts, "Thank you, Jesus," or "Help me, Holy Ghost," parishioners call EMS, the DS or 911! Too many churches have become mausoleums for the dead rather than coliseums of praise for a living God. They have lost the spirit of Pentecost! They have lost their enthusiasm. They have lost their joy for Jesus and find themselves suffering from what William Willimon calls "Institutional and Spiritual Dry Rot." Pentecost marks the beginning of a new spiritual movement in Christ; a movement birthed through the fires of the Holy Spirit; a movement steeped in the spirit of hope, renewal, and spiritual transformation. It is a movement where souls are on fire with the passion of the Holy Spirit and the Church today more than ever needs to recapture that spirit. If the Church is to survive the next millennium it must recapture some of the praise and enthusiasm it had two millennia ago. The spiritual energy and vitality of Pentecost has sustained the Church through two millennia.

Years ago someone invented a wonderful word that graphically portrays the sickness that so often comes from material abundance - affluenza. We have all heard of influenza, but have you heard of affluenza? The definitions of "affluenza" include these:

1. The bloated, sluggish and unfilled feeling that results from efforts to keep up with the Joneses.

2. An epidemic of stress, overwork, waste and indebtedness caused by the dogged pursuit of the American Dream.

3. An unsustainable addiction to economic growth.

We usually try to water down Jesus' radical commands about money. We prefer Matthew's version of the Beatitudes which says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit," to Luke's version which says, "Blessed are the poor." We typically assert that not everyone needs to "sell all and give to the poor" as Jesus advised the rich ruler. Only when acquisitiveness becomes an all-consuming compulsion does it have to be completely abandoned.

The story is told of a Franciscan monk in Australia was assigned to be the guide and "gofer" to Mother Teresa when she visited New South Wales. Thrilled and excited at the prospect of being so close to this great woman, he dreamed of how much he would learn from her and what they would talk about. But during her visit, he became frustrated. Although he was constantly near her, the friar never had the opportunity to say one word to Mother Teresa. There were always other people for her to meet.

Finally, her tour was over, and she was due to fly to New Guinea. In desperation, the Franciscan friar spoke to Mother Teresa: If I pay my own fare to New Guinea, can I sit next to you on the plane so I can talk to you and learn from you? Mother Teresa looked at him. You have enough money to pay airfare to New Guinea? she asked.

Yes, he replied eagerly. “Then give that money to the poor,” she said. “You'll learn more from that than anything I can tell you.” Mother Teresa understood that Jesus’ ministry was to the poor and she made it hers as well. She knew that they more than anyone else needed good news.

On a Saturday morning, in Nazareth, the town gathered in the synagogue to listen to Jesus read and teach. It was no big surprise. He was well known in the area; it was his hometown. He was raised there. They wanted to learn from him. So when he read from the Isaiah scroll, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the good news to the poor” everyone understood these words to be the words of Isaiah. It is how that prophet from long ago defined his ministry.

When Jesus finished that reading he handed the scroll to the attendant and sat down. In that day you sat in the Moses Seat to teach to the people. Today preachers stand in a pulpit. So all eyes were on Jesus, waiting for him to begin his teaching. What would he say about this great prophet Isaiah? Would he emphasis the bad news? Israel had sinned and would be taken into captivity by the Babylonians. Or would he emphasis the good news? One day God would restore his people and bring them back from captivity. It was Israel’s ancient history but it still spoke volumes.

Now here’s the wonderful twist, the thing that catches everyone off guard that Saturday morning in Nazareth. Jesus does neither. He doesn’t emphasize those things past. He focuses on the present. He doesn’t lift up Isaiah as the great role model; Jesus lifts up himself. This is the pertinent point. It’s what upsets everybody at the synagogue. It’s why everybody was furious with him and drove him out of town. They were going to kill him. He dared to say that these great words of Isaiah were really about himself. “Today,” he said, “this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Why does Jesus describe himself as the new Isaiah? How is it that he is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s words? Let’s take a look at…

1. The captivity and restoration of Israel under Isaiah’s ministry.
2. The captivity of mankind under Jesus’ ministry.
3. The restoration of mankind under Jesus’ ministry.

Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.

People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. "This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a person.  How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?" The man was poor, and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.

One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you've been cursed with misfortune."

The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?"

The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact is that your horse is gone, and you are cursed."

The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?"

The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn't, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. he lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.

After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right, and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us."

The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?

"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don't."

"Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.

The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.

"You were right," they said. "You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."

The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging. Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments."

It so happened that a few weeks later, the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming, because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.

"You were right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."

The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."

An ethics professor at Princeton Seminary asked for volunteers for an extra assignment. About half the class met him at the library to receive their assignments. The professor divided the students into three groups of five each. He gave the first group envelopes telling them to proceed immediately across campus to Stewart Hall. He told them that they had 15 minutes and if they didn't arrive on time, it would affect their grade. A minute or two later, he handed out envelopes to five others. They were also to go over to Stewart Hall, but they had 45 minutes. The third group had three hours to get to Stewart Hall. The students weren't aware of it, but the professor had arranged for three drama students to meet them along the way. Close to the beginning of their walk, one of the drama students had his hands on his head and was moaning aloud as if in great pain. About half way to Stewart Hall, on the steps of the chapel, the seminary students passed a man who was lying face down as if unconscious. Finally, on the steps of Stewart Hall, the third drama student was acting out a seizure. In the first group of students, those who had only 15 minutes to get across campus, no one stopped to help. In the second group, two students stopped to help. In the last group, the one that had three hours for their assignment, all of the students stopped to help at least one person. The professor had clearly shown these seminarians that hurry hinders ministry.

The disciples have been out on their own preaching, driving out demons, and anointing and healing the sick. When they return they gather around Jesus and report in. They had done good work and they must have been excited about the new authority they held in the name of Jesus. Jesus must have been excited to see his apostles too; he wanted to hear about their experiences, so he invites them to come aside. "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while," Jesus said.

What is Jesus trying to get across to his disciples? He is trying to tell them and tell you and me that:

1. We Need to Take Time to Be Present to One Another
2. Saving Time Is Not Making Time
3. Let God Give You Time

Jesus has his reasons for inviting his disciples to rest. They have just returned from a mission on which he had dispatched them. He had sent them out in pairs and in haste. They were not to encumber themselves with gear or supplies, but simply trust local hospitality to meet their needs. They were not to linger where they were not wanted. Instead, they were to be on the move, calling people to repentance, casting out demons, anointing the sick. It was work they had never done before, and once they returned, they must have been exhausted.

Many of us do critically important work and find ourselves exhausted. Yet we don't rest. We may even believe that we cannot or should not rest. We push ourselves in a way that we would never push others. Our life may be productive, we may check off everything from our daily "to do" list, but deep down we recognize something is wrong, that we lack a sense of deep meaning, and so we feel cheated

The disciples have returned from their travels, but the pace has not slackened. As the Gospel reports, "Many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat." Does that scene sound familiar to you? Is your workplace like that? Is your home like that? This is a common experience for people today. Many are coming and going, and they have no leisure even to eat.

Jesus listens to the disciples as they report on all they did and taught in the numerous places they visited. He does not, however, tell them to throw themselves into action again with even greater abandon. He doesn't ask them to do something difficult and dangerous, big and brave. Instead, what he asks for is disarming in its simplicity: "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest for a while."

Long ago, there ruled in Persia a wise and good king. He loved his people. He wanted to know how they lived. He wanted to know about their hardships. Often he dressed in the clothes of a working man or a beggar, and went to the homes of the poor. No one whom he visited thought that he was their ruler. One time he visited a very poor man who lived in a cellar. He ate the coarse food the poor man ate. He spoke cheerful, kind words to him. Then he left. Later he visited the poor man again and disclosed his identity by saying, "I am your king!" The king thought the man would surely ask for some gift or favor, but he didn't. Instead he said, "You left your palace and your glory to visit me in this dark, dreary place. You ate the course food I ate. You brought gladness to my heart! To others you have given your rich gifts. To me you have given yourself!"

God is willing to make most any accommodation to have fellowship with us. Even becoming human.

Jeremiah 14:4 - "Because of the ground which is dismayed, since there is no rain in the land, the farmers are ashamed, they cover their heads."

2 Timothy 2:6 - "It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops."

James 5:7 - "Be patient, therefore, brethren, until the coming of the Lord. Behold, the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient over it until it receives the early and the late rain."

Palestine was one of the world’s earliest agricultural centers. By 7500 B.C., the land was irrigated, and farming was good. The Israelites learned to farm from the Canaanites, and they built their villages near their fields where they worked all day. In later times, these villages grew into walled towns. Much of the farming was done on hillsides, and as a result, terracing came into practice quite early.

Among the chief crops in ancient Palestine were wheat, rice, barley, oats, rye, beans, peas, lettuce, celery, cabbage, beets, turnips, mustard, radishes, onions, flax, cotton, and many others. But it wasn’t easy. The land was rocky and the farmer was often threatened by such things as ants, caterpillars, field mice, tares, wind, hail, and so on. Fallowing, which means to plow, but not plant, was practiced every seven years to enrich the soil, control weeds, and furnish food for the poor, since whatever grew of itself was given to them.

The farm season opened in November after the early October rains, and the Gezer Calendar marks the program of a Palestinian farmer in this way:

"his two months are (olive) harvest;
his two months are grain-planting;
his two months are planting;
his month is hoeing up of flax;
his month is barley harvest;
his month is harvest and festivity;
his two months are vine-tending;
his month is summer-fruit."

The farmer’s plow was a forked branch with an attached piece of sharp metal. During the time of Saul, the Philistines monopolized iron, and Hebrew farmers were forced to go to the Philistines to have their plows sharpened. A plank or a faggot of thorns served as a harrow.

Planting was done simply by broadcasting it or by a kind of funnel fixed to the plow, called a seed-pipe. Harvesting was accomplished by grasping a small tuft of grain in the left hand and cutting it with a sickle held in the right hand. The short-handed sickle was made with flint until about 1100 B.C. when iron became common.

Sheaves were bound into bundles and taken to the threshing floor. There the farmer beat the ripe grain with a staff or rod. Threshing floors were usually situated outside the village. Using pitchforks, the farmer winnowed the grain by tossing it into the wind. The grain was then sifted through screen trays, stored, and transported to market.

The dry season, extending from mid-May until mid-October, gave the farmer some of his greatest problems. This lack of water explains the many cisterns found in Palestine. Many regulations and customs pertain to agriculture:

1. It was forbidden to move boundaries.
2. It was forbidden to mix different kinds of seed.
3. It was forbidden to yoke animals of different species together.
4. Permission to glean fields was given to the poor.
5. The sides of a field were uncut to benefit the poor.
6. It was forbidden to turn back for a forgotten sheaf.
7. Passers-by were authorized to pluck ears.

Land was measured by the yoke - that is, the area that a pair of oxen could plough in a day. The value of the land was fixed according to whatever was planted in it. Now, of course, I don’t have to spell out the comparable occupation today. Although the methods have certainly changed, the occupation hasn’t, and it is still as vital a one as it has ever been.

Clarence Jordan was a man of unusual abilities and commitment. He had two Ph.D.s, one in agriculture and one in Greek and Hebrew. So gifted was he, he could have chosen to do anything he wanted. He chose to serve the poor. In the 1940s, he founded a farm in Americus, Georgia, and called it Koinonia Farm. It was a community for poor whites and poor blacks. As you might guess, such an idea did not go over well in the Deep South of the '40s. Ironically, much of the resistance came from good church people who followed the laws of segregation as much as the other folk in town. The town people tried everything to stop Clarence. They tried boycotting him, and slashing workers' tires when they came to town. Over and over, for fourteen years, they tried to stop him.

Finally, in 1954, the Ku Klux Klan had enough of Clarence Jordan, so they decided to get rid of him once and for all. They came one night with guns and torches and set fire to every building on Koinonia Farm but Clarence's home, which they riddled with bullets. And they chased off all the families except one black family which refused to leave. Clarence recognized the voices of many of the Klansmen, and, as you might guess, some of them were church people. Another was the local newspaper's reporter. The next day, the reporter came out to see what remained of the farm. The rubble still smoldered and the land was scorched, but he found Clarence in the field, hoeing and planting.

"I heard the awful news," he called to Clarence, "and I came out to do a story on the tragedy of your farm closing." Clarence just kept on hoeing and planting. The reporter kept prodding, kept poking, trying to get a rise from this quietly determined man who seemed to be planting instead of packing his bags. So, finally, the reporter said in a haughty voice, "Well, Dr. Jordan, you got two of them Ph.D.s and you've but fourteen years into this farm, and there's nothing left of it at all. Just how successful do you think you've been?"

Clarence stopped hoeing, turned toward the reporter with his penetrating blue eyes, and said quietly but firmly, "About as successful as the cross. Sir, I don't think you understand us. What we are about is not success but faithfulness. We're staying. Good day."

Beginning that day, Clarence and his companions rebuilt Koinonia and the farm is going strong today.

Ted Stallard undoubtedly qualifies as the one of "the least." Turned off by school. Very sloppy in appearance. Expressionless. Unattractive. Even his teacher, Miss Thompson, enjoyed bearing down her red pen as she placed Xs beside his many wrong answers.

If only she had studied his records more carefully. They read:

1st grade: Ted shows promise with his work and attitude, but (has) poor home situation.

2nd grade: Ted could do better. Mother seriously ill. Receives little help from home.

3rd grade: Ted is good boy but too serious. He is a slow learner. His mother died this year.

4th grade: Ted is very slow, but well-behaved. His father shows no interest whatsoever.

Christmas arrived. The children piled elaborately wrapped gifts on their teacher's desk. Ted brought one too. It was wrapped in brown paper and held together with Scotch Tape. Miss Thompson opened each gift, as the children crowded around to watch. Out of Ted's package fell a gaudy rhinestone bracelet, with half of the stones missing, and a bottle of cheap perfume. The children began to snicker. But she silenced them by splashing some of the perfume on her wrist, and letting them smell it. She put the bracelet on too.

At day's end, after the other children had left, Ted came by the teacher's desk and said, "Miss Thompson, you smell just like my mother. And the bracelet looks real pretty on you. I'm glad you like my presents." He left. Miss Thompson got down on her knees and asked God to forgive her and to change her attitude.

The next day, the children were greeted by a reformed teacher one committed to loving each of them. Especially the slow ones. Especially Ted. Surprisingly or maybe, not surprisingly, Ted began to show great improvement. He actually caught up with most of the students and even passed a few.

Time came and went. Miss Thompson heard nothing from Ted for a long time. Then, one day, she received this note:

Dear Miss Thompson:

I wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my class.

Love, Ted

Four years later, another note arrived:

Dear Miss Thompson:

They just told me I will be graduating first in my class. I wanted you to be first to know. The university has not been easy, but I liked it.

Love, Ted

And four years later:

Dear Miss Thompson:

As of today, I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How about that? I wanted you to be the first to know. I am getting married next month, the 27th to be exact. I want you to come and sit where my mother would sit if she were alive. You are the only family I have now; Dad died last year.

Miss Thompson attended that wedding, and sat where Ted's mother would have sat. The compassion she had shown that young man entitled her to that privilege.

Let's have some real courage, and start giving to "one of the least." He may become a Ted Stallard. Even if that doesn't happen, we will have been faithful to the One who has always treated us as unworthy as we are like very special people.

Ther's a fable of an old man whose grandson rode a donkey while they were traveling from one city to another. The man heard people say, “Would you look at that old man suffering on his feet while that strong young boy is totally capable of walking.”

So then the old man rode the donkey while the boy walked. And he heard some people say, “Would you look at that, a healthy man making the poor young boy suffer. Can you believe it?”

So the man and the boy both rode the donkey, and they heard some people say, “Would you look at those heavy brutes making that poor donkey suffer.” So they both got off and walked, until they heard some people say, “Would you look at the waste—a perfectly good donkey not being used.”

Finally, the scene shifts and we see the boy walking and the old man carrying the donkey. No matter what you do, someone will always criticize it.

We smile, but this story makes a good point: We can't please everybody, and if we try we end up carrying a heavy burden. Well-meaning Christians may offer us advice, and much of it is valuable. But when we try to do everything other believers want us to do, we can easily become frustrated and confused . That's why we need to remember that the One we must please above all others is Christ. And we do that by obeying God's Word. Carried any donkeys lately? You don't have to if you're trying to please Jesus.

This story is about a man named Fred who inherited $10 million, but the will provided that he had to accept it either in Chile or Brazil. He chose Brazil. Unhappily it turned out that in Chile he would have received his inheritance in land on which uranium, gold, and silver had just been discovered. Once in Brazil he had to choose between receiving his inheritance in coffee or nuts. He chose the nuts. Too bad! The bottom fell out of the nut market, and coffee went up to $1.30 a pound wholesale, unroasted. Poor Fred lost everything he had to his name. He went out and sold his solid gold watch for the money he needed to fly home. It seems that he had enough for a ticket to either New York or Boston. He chose Boston. When the plane for New York taxied up he noticed it was a brand-new super 747 jet with red carpets and chic people and wine-popping hostesses. The plane for Boston then arrived. It was a 1928 Ford trimotor with a sway back and it took a full day to get off the ground. It was filled with crying children and tethered goats. Over the Andes, one of the engines fell off. Our man Fred made his way up to the captain and said, "I'm a jinx on this plane. Let me out if you want to save your lives. Give me a parachute." The pilot agreed, but added, "On this plane, anybody who bails out must wear two chutes." So, Fred jumped out of the plane, and as he fell dizzily through the air he tried to make up his mind which ripcord to pull. Finally, he chose the one on the left. It was rusty and the wire pulled loose. So, he then pulled the other handle. This chute opened, but its shroud lines snapped. In desperation, the poor fellow cried out, "St. Francis save me!" A great hand from heaven reached down and seized the poor fellow by the wrist and let him dangle in midair. Then a gentle but inquisitive voice asked, "St. Francis Xavier or St. Francis of Assisi?"

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her fifth grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed, how pretty the bracelet was. She put it on and dabbed some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her pets. A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met a girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference." Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Time is the inexplicable raw material of everything. With it, all is possible; without it, nothing. The supply of time is truly a daily miracle, an affair genuinely astonishing when one examines it. You wake up in the morning, and lo! your purse is magically filled with twenty-four hours of the unmanufactured tissue of the universe of your life! It is yours. It is the most precious of possessions... No one can take it from you. It is not something that can be stolen. And no one receives either more or less than you receive. Moreover, you cannot draw on its future. Impossible to get into debt! You can only waste the passing moment. You cannot waste tomorrow; it is kept for you. You cannot waste the next hour; it is kept for you.

You have to live on this twenty-four hours of daily time. Out of it you have to spin health, pleasure, money, content, respect, and the evolution of your immortal soul. Its right use, its most effective use, is a matter of the highest urgency and of the most thrilling actuality. All depends on that. Your happiness the elusive prize that you are all clutching for, my friends depends on that.

If one cannot arrange that an income of twenty-four hours a day shall exactly cover all proper items of expenditure, one does muddle one's whole life indefinitely. We shall never have any more time. We have, and we have always had, all the time there is.

Pastor Victor Shepherd tells the story of a missionary surgeon he met who was rather gruff and to the point. On one occasion the surgeon was speaking to a small group of university students about his work in the Gaza Strip. He was telling us that we North American "fat cats" knew nothing about gratitude. Nothing! On one occasion he had stopped a peasant hovel to see a woman on whom he had performed surgery.  She and her husband were dirt poor. Their livestock supply consisted of one Angora rabbit and two chickens. For income the woman combed the hair out of the rabbit, spun the hair into yarn and sold it. For food she and her husband ate the eggs from the chickens. The woman insisted that the missionary surgeon stay for lunch. He accepted the invitation and said he would be back for lunch after he had gone down the road to see another postoperative patient. An hour and a half later he was back.  He peeked into the cooking pot to see what he was going to eat. He saw one rabbit and two chickens. The woman had given up her entire livestock supply -- her income, her food, everything. He wept unashamedly as he told the story no doubt for the 100th time. He concluded his story by reminding us again, that we knew nothing of gratitude. He concluded by saying, the incident will stay with me forever.

There is another incident concerning gratitude that will never be forgotten. It's about a woman who poured costly perfume over our Lord as she wiped his feet with her hair. Make no mistake the perfume was expensive, three hundred denarii, a year's income for a laborer in Palestine. Enough to keep a family alive for twelve months.

1 Samuel 8:13 - "He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers."

The confectioner was a female perfumer or apothecary, similar to a woman chemist of today who works for a perfume manufacturer, distilling new scents. In biblical times, these women gathered the blossoms when the orange-trees, the violets, and the roses were in bloom, and then made from them scented waters which they kept in large, closely-sealed bottles for use in the summer as cooling syrup-drinks. These were presented to guests in tumblers of brass and on silver trays.

The king’s confectionaries would be occupied with the preparation and mixing of such flavoring essences, as well as in the mixing of scented wines. Spiced wine is mentioned in the Song of Solomon (8:2), and wine with myrrh was offered to Jesus at the Crucifixion as an anaesthetic.

Today the center of the perfume industry is in Grasse, France, where violets, orange blossoms, mimosa, roses, lavender, carnations, jasmine, and eucalyptus are especially raised for this purpose, and where many women are engaged in the same type of work as their ancient sisters, although the use of perfume in wine or other drinks is not to our tastes.

While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, "Have you anything here to eat?" (Luke 24:41). And now he has made the sacramental moment back into a meal.

That is so Luke. The Physician. Mr. Everything-is-flesh-and-blood; you're either poor or you're not poor; you're either hungry or you're not hungry; you're either sick or you're not sick; none of the in-between "Well, maybe we're poor in a spiritual sense."  For Luke it's always a question of people's physical well-being.  And physically, Jesus, who on Good Friday was completely dead, is now so completely alive that he wants something to eat.  He is not a ghost.

There was some talk in the early church that maybe he was a ghost when he came back. He was not a ghost. He was not a shadow of his former self; he was his former self restored to life, victorious over death. This is not a metaphysical encounter, but a physical one. It was not an illusion, not a dream, but flesh and bone and blood.

A Chinese Confucian scholar, converted to Christ, told this story: “A man fell into a dark, dirty, slimy pit, and he tried to climb out of the pit and he couldn’t. Confucius came along. He saw the man in the pit and said, ‘Poor fellow, if he’d listened to me, he never would have got there,’ and he went on.

“Buddha came along. He saw the man in the pit and said, ‘Poor fellow, if he’ll come up here, I’ll help him.’ And he too went on.

“Then Jesus Christ came. He saw the man and said, ‘Poor fellow!’ and jumped into the pit and lifted him out.”

As we come to the Lord's Table, we're all sinners in need of salvation, beggars needing bread. We are "the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind" in that third story. Maybe not literally poor, crippled, lame, and blind, but spiritually poor, crippled, lame, and blind. Yet God graciously includes us as guests at God's Table. Good communion table manners include coming to the table without thinking too much of ourselves.

And, finally, good communion table manners include coming without looking down on any other guest, for all of us are God's equally beloved guests. King George IV desired Communion and sent a servant to bring the Bishop of Winchester. When the servant arrived with the Bishop, the King was angry. He felt his servant had taken too long. The King upbraided the man and fired him on the spot.

Having done that, he turned to the Bishop for Communion. But the Bishop refused to proceed. He saw that the King was still angry. Realizing the Bishop was right, the King called for his servant, apologized, and restored the man's job. Only then could Communion proceed. Part of good table manners is extending graciousness to the other guests. As we have been forgiven and welcomed by God, let us forgive and welcome each other.

Years ago, Russell Conwell told of an ancient Persian, Ali Hafed, who "owned a very large farm that had orchards, grain fields, and gardens... and was a wealthy contented man." One day a wise man from the East told the farmer all about diamonds and how wealthy he would be if he owned a diamond mine. Ali Hafed went to bed that night a poor man poor because he was discontented.

Craving a mine of diamonds, he sold his farm to search for the rare stones. He traveled the world over, finally becoming so poor, broken, and defeated that he committed suicide. One day the man who purchased Ali Hafed's farm led his camel into the garden to drink. As his camel put its nose into the brook, the man saw a flash of light from the sands of the stream. He pulled out a stone that reflected all the hues of the rainbow. The man had discovered the diamond mine of Golcanda, the most magnificent mine in all history. Had Ali Hafed remained at home and dug in his own garden, then instead of death in a strange land, he would have had acres of diamonds.