These "watching" people hoped that they could discredit Jesus so that his influence would falter. They watched, hoping that he might say the wrong word like politicians, whose careless words are used against them. They watched, perhaps thinking they could catch him in a compromising situation. Or perhaps they wanted to find some glaring insincerity so that people might begin to wonder if he really believed and followed his own message. A noted TV religious personality is reported to have purchased a $449,000 home in addition to a new Mercedes-Benz and a Rolls-Royce. When asked about this discrepancy of message and life-style, he said that he and his wife "just had to have a little place of our own." Jesus’ watchers wanted to uncover something like that; with it they could deflate the disturbing attractions of this prophet from Nazareth.

We are all watchers but few of us are seers. Many watched the birds fly, but it was the Wright brothers who saw that their wings were curved on the upper surface, thus enabling us to fly, too. Many had seen the lowly peanut plant, but Dr. George Washington Carver saw in it a host of products and derivatives that have blessed our lives. Many biologists had watched mold form in the culture dish, but Alexander Fleming saw penicillin and an advance in human health resulted.

Robert Oppenheimer was the one man responsible for the development for the atomic bomb the United States used against Japan at the close of World War II. He was born in 1904 in New York City, and showed an early interest in science. He entered Harvard at 18 and graduated 3 years later with honors. He continued his studies in theoretical physics at various universities in Europe prior to teaching at the California Institute of Technology. He was considered one of the top ten theoretical physicists in the world, and specialized in the study of sub-atomic particles and gamma rays. From 1943 he began directing 4500 men and women at Los Alamos, New Mexico, whose sole purpose was to build an atomic bomb. Two years and two billion dollars later, they had successfully detonated the first atomic bomb.

When he saw what he had made, Robert Oppenheimer underwent a radical revaluation of his values; a value inversion. Upon seeing the first fireball and mushroom cloud, he quoted from the Bhagavad-Gita, "I am become death." Two months later he resigned his position at Los Alamos and spent much of the remainder of his life trying to undo the damage, trying to get the genie of atomic weapons back in the bottle. There are certain individuals who, in a flash so to speak, like Oppenheimer, see that all they once valued is really of no lasting value at all. Their entire life has been turned on its head, everything is upside down. They see with painful clarity that the very things they prized most in life are in reality worthless baubles.

In 1966, about a year before he died, the brilliant physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer said, "I am a complete failure!" This man had been the director of the Los Alamos Project, a research team that produced the atomic bomb, and he had also served as the head of the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. Yet, in looking back, he saw his achievements as meaningless. When asked about them, he replied, "They leave on the tongue only the taste of ashes."

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.

There was a minister who had a favorite slogan that he often repeated in his sermons. He said, "The church is not like a country club; it's more like a hospital." That's what Jesus was saying here when he gave us the direction, "... do not invite your friends ... or your rich neighbors ... invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind...." You and I are not in the church to impress one another or to win power struggles; we are here to minister to one another in our weaknesses. We are here to be hospitable.

Maybe you've heard the humorous story about the pastor who was having difficulty with his assigned parking space on the church parking lot. People parked in his spot whenever they pleased, even though there was a sign that clearly said, "This space reserved." He thought the sign needed to be clearer, so he had a different sign made, which read, "Reserved for Pastor Only." Still people ignored it and parked in his space whenever they felt like it. "Maybe the sign should be more forceful," he thought. So he devised a more intimidating one, which announced, "Thou shalt not park here." That sign didn't make any difference either. Finally, he hit upon the words that worked; in fact, nobody ever took his parking place again. The sign read, "The one who parks here preaches the sermon on Sunday morning!"

I tell you this story because most of you would probably hedge at the prospect of such a ministry: preaching the sermon on a Sunday morning. You would probably feel uncomfortable about doing that because of a lack of experience and training. But what, then, is your ministry? The Gospel reading here, as well as the other two readings selected for this Sunday, set before us a vision of a common ministry that all of us can be a part of. I would call it something like "a ministry of hospitality."

Someone gave me a book once entitled, The Second Book of Insults. Evidently the first book was so successful the publisher thought it deserved a sequel. I will confess that I enjoyed reading the book. It is in the grand tradition of a certain kind of comedy called the "put-down." We love to see the pretentious slip on a banana peel. It is that kind of humor.

There is a similar tradition in sports. We love to see the underdog beat the top dog. Which is why we look forward to the Padres meeting the Yankees in the World Series.

There is even a tradition of put-down in the Bible, probably because the Bible was written by Jews, who spent most of their history being shoved around by great empires. There are songs in the Bible, like the Magnificat, which Mary sings at the time of the annunciation to her by the angel, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. He has knocked the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of low degree." That's a put-down.

The English are the masters of the put-down. Many of the entries into that anthology of insults came from England. Like the story of George Bernard Shaw, who was invited to a woman's house for tea. She was one of those people who liked to "collect" celebrities so that she, herself, might be considered a celebrity. She sent Shaw her card, which read, "Lady So-and-So will be at home Thursday from 4:00 to 6:00 p.m." Shaw wrote a note on the card and sent it back, and said, "Mr. George Bernard Shaw likewise."

Winston Churchill was equally adept at the put-down. There is a famous exchange between Winston Churchill and Lady Astor. Lady Astor did not like Winston Churchill, so one day she said to him, "If I were your wife, I'd put poison in your tea." Churchill said, "If I were your husband, I'd drink it."

They are masters of the put-down, George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill. So when you have an anecdote in which they battle each other, it is a collector's item. Here it is. Bernard Shaw sent two tickets to his latest play opening in London to Churchill with this note, "Here are two tickets for the opening night of my new play, one for you and one for a friend, if you have one." Churchill sent them back with this note, "I cannot attend opening night. Send me two tickets for the next night, if there is one."

I suppose wherever you go, wherever there are hierarchical institutions, or any institutions for that matter, you will have concern about status, some people in upper echelons of power and others below them. The people below are probably telling these put-downs, stories about the people they hope to replace someday. Every group arranges itself according to status. People ask, "Where do I fit in in this group?" Or, "Can I make a contribution?" "Will it not be received?" "Can I be myself, or will I be put down?"

Robert Coles, the psychiatrist, writes a lot of books, teaches at Harvard. He wrote a book about Dorothy Day. In the book there is this anecdote. Dorothy Day, as you know, is that famous Catholic social worker, the founder of the Catholic Worker. When Coles was a medical student at Harvard, he volunteered to work at the Catholic Worker. He was a Harvard graduate. He was in medical school. He was going to be a psychiatrist. In this society, that is about as high a status as you can get. He knew that. He was really proud of it. He was also proud that as this person with all these credentials, he was volunteering to help the poor. It was the kind of thing people would sit up and take notice of.

He arrived at the premises of the Catholic Worker. He asked to see Dorothy Day. He went right to the top. The person said that she was in the kitchen. He went into the kitchen, saw her sitting at a table, talking to someone. He had enough medical training to recognize that the man that she was talking to was addicted to some dangerous substance. He was disheveled. He was obviously a homeless street person. She was sitting at table with him, listening intently to what he had to say. Now I want you to have in mind Jesus' parable of the banquet and the seats at the table, and where you are supposed to be at that banquet.

She is at table with this street person, giving him her full attention. So she didn't notice Coles come in the room. He stood beside the door, waited for her to finish. When she finished the conversation she stood up. That is when she noticed Coles. She asked, "Do you want to speak to one of us?"

He was astounded. Dorothy Day was famous. This man with her was a nobody. He's a derelict. "You wanted to speak to one of us?" Coles had never seen anything like this before. Humility that can identify with another person so completely as to remove all distinctions between them. It cut through all of the boundaries, all the categories that society sets up to separate us from one another. There were just two people, brother and sister, the sister concerned about the brother.

It changed his life. He said he learned more in one moment than he did in four years at Harvard. He saw in one moment what it means to humble yourself as our Lord did, "who did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but humbled himself, and took on the form of a servant."

For he who exalts himself will be humbled and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

I like the story historians tell about the funeral of Charlemagne. Charlemagne was the greatest Christian ruler of the early Middle Ages. After his death a mighty funeral procession left his castle for the cathedral at Aix. When the royal casket arrived, with a lot of pomp and circumstance, it was met by the local bishop, who barred the cathedral door.

"Who comes?" the Bishop asked, as was the custom.

"Charlemagne, Lord and King of the Holy Roman Empire," proclaimed the Emperor's proud herald.

"Him I know not," the Bishop replied. "Who comes?"

The herald, a bit shaken, replied, "Charles the Great, a good and honest man of the earth."

"Him I know not," the Bishop said again. "Who comes?"

The herald, now completely crushed, responded, "Charles, a lowly sinner, who begs the gift of Christ."

To which the Bishop, Christ's representative, responded, "Enter! Receive Christ's gift of life!"

The point, of course, is that in God's eyes, we're all equally needy. Charlemagne, Mother Teresa, you and me. None of us will ever be "good enough" to force entrance into the presence of God.

Ethel Barrymore, the great stage and screen actress, was a stickler for good manners. She once invited a younger actress to a dinner party at her home. But the young lady never appeared. She didn't even bother to offer an excuse or make an apology. She just didn't show up. Several days later Ethel Barrymore and the young lady met by chance at a museum. Embarrassed, the younger actress began, "Miss Barrymore, I believe I was invited to your house last Thursday evening for dinner." To which Ethel Barrymore responded coolly, "Yes, I believe I did invite you. Were you there?" (The Little, Brown Book of Anecdotes, Clifton Fadiman, editor, Little, Brown and Company, p. 40).

During the dark days of slavery in this country, Blacks worked in the cotton fields stripped of their dignity, naked to the waist, and barefoot in the dirt. But the human spirit refuses to be broken. From deep within the Black psyche rose that rebellion spawned by Christian faith and expressed in the music of the soul; the Negro spirituals. In them the note of human dignity is never far from the praise of God.

I got shoes, you got shoes, All of God's chillun got shoes. When I get to heav'n, gonna put on my shoes. I'm gonna walk all over God's heav'n.

What does it mean to sit in the seats of honor at the kingdom table? It means dropping a barefooted slave mentality! It means putting on our heavenly shoes, and walking all over God's heaven and God's good earth, as well. To be an honored guest at the feast of the Lord is to value oneself ultimately.

Freidrich Nietzsche drew the distinction between a servant morality and a master morality with disturbing clarity. A servant morality adopts values and follows a morality which is imposed upon us by others. It negates the self. A master morality, on the other hand, sees the self as the creator of both values and morality. It, therefore, affirms the self. Nietzsche saw religion as the great espouser of servant morality because it portrayed values and morals as absolutes given by God. He contended that to be fully human is to realize that morality is something we create. Values are not hung "out there" like stars in the sky. We are the ones who do the valuing. The clues to ethical behavior come from within ourselves and are not prescribed for us by some external authority. Values are neither objective nor carved in stone despite the claims of the church. Instead, they come from an internal gyroscope that guides the course of our lives.

But the question always arises: How do we then live with thousands of people creating their own morality?

The Pharisees and other leaders closely watched Jesus but they could not see his meaning. They could not see the issues as Jesus saw them, so they set themselves against him rather than making an alliance with him. They were so hung up on rules, laws and ceremonies, that they missed the heart of faith: God's forgiving love that frees one to live as son or daughter of God.

It's similar to the musical genius of Johann Sebastian Bach. We know him to be among the musical masters of all time. But it was not so for his contemporaries. The parishioners at St. Thomas Church often complained about the strange and innovative music that Bach wrote for the choir and organ each Sunday. They didn't know what a gifted musician was in their midst. After his death, the music of Bach was seldom performed until Felix Mendelssohn began a revival of appreciation that has lasted into our own time. So the people of Bach's time watched him, but they didn't see him. They did not hear him.

I would insist that we have a good understanding of Jesus and what he was about but I don't think we have great insight. Christians today must be careful in their confidence. We can know that we are saved but we never know if our behavior is completely acceptable. We watch Jesus, but we do not see him. We are acquainted with him, but his rich meaning is not yet fully part of our lives. Occasionally we confess this when we sing in worship:

Open my eyes, that I may see
Glimpses of truth thou hast for me;
Place in my hands the wonderful key
That shall unclasp and set me free.

Our prayer ought to be: Watch and pray that we might see.

I heard it when I was growing up. Didn't you? I was getting ready to go to a birthday party, to a cousin's house, or to a Sunday School event. The last thing I heard at the door as I was leaving was this: Mind your manners!

I knew what it meant. It meant that I should behave myself at the party in ways I was taught at home. It meant that I should act in ways that would not embarrass myself, hurt other people, or bring disgrace on our family. Manners were important because values were important. The way we behaved toward other people showed our values. If we valued family, friends, and our relationship to others, we would act in ways that were respectful, courteous, mannerly.

In the Gospel lesson for today, Jesus was the dinner guest in the house of a religious leader. The host and the guests were watching what went on. Jesus observed the manners that were being practiced there at the meal and he saw the values that were being played out. Jesus interrupted the party to do some teaching about values and manners. He taught about values that belonged to the kingdom of God and said to all in the house: Mind your manners!

A hundred years ago, Ralph Waldo Emerson noted three qualities he deemed marks of true "success": the ability to discern and appreciate beauty, the ability to see the best in others, and a commitment to leaving the world a better place. Notice that Emerson does not say that success comes in having the best seat at the table, acquiring more material possessions, or in belonging to the best clubs. Emerson contends that success comes with appreciating God's world, developing loving relationships with God's people, and with working to improve God's world. Jesus would agree heartily. 

In fact, our scripture lesson for today ends with a wonderful suggestion of how to work to make the world a better place. Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind to dinner. They are all members of your family. Just think how much richer your table talk will be if you don't just associate with your business associates and closest relatives. Remember around the table such wonderful things happen. Invite everyone to the table. They are all members of the extended family.

Martin Copenhaver, Pastor of the Wellesley Congregational Church, offers a vision of what God's Banquet Feast might be like: When God is throwing a party, you never know who will be there or whom you will sit next to. The financier will be seated next to the panhandler he always passed on his way to work. The store owner will be next to the person he just fired, and the doctor will be put next to the woman who just sued him for malpractice. Rush Limbaugh may be beside Barack Obama. A prostitute will sit next to the Pope.

All the "right" people will be there; that is everyone who responds to God's invitation ... and seated next to the host (Jesus) in the places of honor are not the dignitaries, the celebrities, the distinguished people of position and prominence, but rather the poor, the hurting, the outcast people who have distinguished themselves only by their need." (Library of Distinctive Sermons, vol. 2, Multnomah Press, p. 48)

I might add to Copenhaver's vision that at that Banquet Feast, everyone will get along famously. And that at that Banquet Feast, you and I may well find ourselves seated next to, and engaging in conversation with, people we presently can't stand (or who can't stand us). But the old anger, hurt, and grudges will be gone, and reconciliation will come. At God's Table, the barriers that keep people apart rich/poor, upperclass/lowerclass, black/white, Republican/Democrat, gay/straight, friend/foe, the dividing walls of hostility will come smashing down. The crash will be greater than the fall of the Berlin Wall. God's Banquet Feast will be the most remarkable party ever thrown!

A man had a gold-plated safety pin which he carried in his pocket. Frequently he would be seen fingering it. Someone asked him one day what the significance of the pin was. He told, in answer, how he had run away from a fine home, mixed with the wrong crowd, gone from one trouble to another, finally ending in poverty and degradation. He had sold his overcoat to get money for liquor, and on a cold winter night he had his sweater pinned together with that safety pin. He walked into a mission to keep warm, and there the Lord Jesus Christ found him. After he came to know the Lord he started a new life. It brought him many successes and material possessions. He had that pin gold plated to remind him of what he once had been before he knew the Lord. The feel of that pin forever robbed him of any thoughts of pride or conceit over what he had accomplished. His own strength had left him desolate and dissolute. He knew what the redemptive grace of Jesus had done.

First, take out the furniture: leave a few old blankets, a kitchen table, maybe a wooden chair. You've never had a bed, remember?

Second, throw out your clothes. Each person in the family may keep the oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. The head of the family has the only pair of shoes.

Third, all kitchen appliances have vanished. Keep a box of matches, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt, a handful of onions, a dish of dried beans. Rescue the moldy potatoes from the garbage can: those are tonight's meal.

Fourth, dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, take out the wiring and the lights and everything that runs by electricity.

Fifth, take away the house and move the family into the tool shed.

Sixth, no more postman, fireman, government services. The two-classroom school is three miles away, but only two of your seven children attend anyway, and they walk.

Seventh, throw out your bankbooks, stock certificates, pension plans, insurance policies. You now have a cash hoard of $5.

Eighth, get out and start cultivating your three acres. Try hard to raise $300 in cash crops because your landlord wants one third and your moneylender 10 percent.

Ninth, find some way for your children to bring in a little extra money so you have something to eat most days. But it won't be enough to keep bodies healthy--so lop off 25 to 30 years of life.

Many years ago, a little girl named Sarah lived in a home for unwed mothers. She was not one of the clients; her mother was the cook there. Sarah had grown up in the home, and was the special pet of all the girls who came there. One day, a new girl, young and pregnant had come to the home. As she sat on the bench, waiting for her intake interview with the director, she wept. Sarah, now about twelve or thirteen years old, had seen many girls come and go by then, and she knew most all of them had the same look of despair when they arrived. Sarah took pity on the girl, who was not far from her own age. She began talking, and as she did, the girl stopped crying. Then Sarah began to offer some advice on how to answer the standard questions, particularly the one about the father of the baby, "When she asks you who the father is, don't lie, she hates it when you lie, and, what ever you do, don't say he's dead, everyone says he's dead." The girl looked at Sarah, and much to her surprise, asked her, "So what did you say when she asked you?" 

Sarah froze; she was horrified that the girl had mistaken her for one of them. She loved and cared for those girls, but in her mind there had always been a careful separation between them and her. She could love and support them, but she could not be one of them. That, I guess is the difference between God's hospitality and ours. God chose to be us. "Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness." (Phil. 2:5b-7)

Organizers for the dinner party that opened the celebration of the 50th birthday of the United Nations faced an almost impossible task: preparing a meal for sixty-five heads of state and their entourages that was fitting for a dignitary, and non-offensive to all cultures represented. This meant no shellfish, no pork, no beef and no sauces that involved alcohol. It also meant no white flowers on the tables, because some Asian cultures associate white flowers with mourning. They could not afford for a dignitary to take religious or cultural offense at an ingredient in an hors d'oeuvre. They couldn't take the chance that one dignitary might be served his wild-rice-and-wheatberry pilaf before another and perceive it as an insult.

The caterer had to make sure there were as many as three waiters for each of the 61 tables, so that every head of state could be served at exactly the same time. So, what did the caterer end up serving? What do you serve when you don't want to offend anyone? Chicken. 

This banquet pales by comparison to the one Jesus proposes in Luke 14. The United Nations exist for the establishment of justice and peace in our world. It is - as law governing bodies ought to be - there to protect the weak and disenfranchised. One has to wonder just how far its leaders allow it to drift from time to time from its main objectives.

Coach Shug Jordan at Auburn University asked his former Linebacker Mike Kollin, who was then playing for the Miami Dolphins, if he would help his alma mater do some recruiting.

Mike said, "Sure, coach. What kind of player are you looking for?" The coach said, "Well Mike, you know there's that fellow, you knock him down, he just stays down?" Mike said, "We don't want him, do we, coach?"

"No, that's right. Then there's that fellow, you knock him down and he gets up, you knock him down again and he stays down." Mike said, "We don't want him either do we coach?"

Coach said, "No, but Mike, there's a fellow, you knock him down, he gets up. Knock him down, he gets up. Knock him down, he gets up. Knock him down, he gets up."

Mike said, "That's the guy we want isn't it, coach?" The coach answered, "No, Mike, we don't want him either. I want you to find the guy who's knocking everybody down. That's the guy we want."

That's the guy we want to be seen with! That we want to invite to our dinners and social gatherings because deeply it is the kind of people we want to be. We don't want to be seen with the guys who are always being knocked down the poor, crippled, the lame, the blind. But these are the very people, as we shall soon see, that we are encouraged to associate with.

Look with me as we examine Jesus' story about a party. As the guests arrive they are quickly grabbing the front row seats the places of honor. Assuming they are the most important guest, they will soon be embarrassed, Jesus says, by someone more distinguished. They will be asked to get up and move to the end of the table. They will be dishonored before all.

How do we avoid humiliation? How do you stay humble in a haughty world? There are two things that we must do.

1. Don't put yourself in a position to eat humble pie (verses 7-11).
2. We should not expect to be honored in this life (verses 12-14).

Mother Teresa of Calcutta once was asked, "How do you measure the success of your work?" She looked puzzled for a moment and then replied, "I don't remember that the Lord ever spoke of success. He spoke only of faithfulness in love. This is the only success that really counts."

A school bus was making its final round of the day. A young boy jumped off just as a man jogged by.

"Hey, mister," the boy shouted, "can I jog with you?" The jogger wasn't in a hurry so he nodded and the boy joined in jogging. Within five minutes the boy gave the jogger pretty much his whole life story. His name was Matthew, he was ten years old, precocious and full of life.

Abruptly, however, Matthew stopped. "Look at this," he ordered as he showed the jogger an 81/2 by 11 inch piece of paper that had been laminated. In big black letters across the top it said, "Fourth Grade Math Whiz." Underneath was Matthew's name, the school name, the date and the teacher's signature.

His pride was undaunted. "I'm a math whiz," he went on beaming, not waiting for the jogger to come to that conclusion by reading the card only inches from his face. "Last year my sister was the math whiz," he continued, "but this year, I'm the math whiz!"

"That's great," the man replied.

"Yep," said Matthew. "But you know what's really great? When I get home, my dad's gonna be real proud."

And isn't that what we all really want? We want to make our father proud, our mother proud. We want to earn the esteem of family members and business colleagues and friends at church. And that's fine. But more important than all of these, says Jesus, is to make God proud of us. We do that when we look around to those who are helpless, hurting, the destitute and do something for those who can do nothing for us in return. It's all right to want to be one of the beautiful people, says Jesus, as long as you understand who the beautiful people really are. They are not those who are always buying more trinkets than their neighbors. They are those who are using the blessings of life to bless others.

(Adapted from Terry Hershey, Go Away Come Closer)

Chuck Swindoll tells about a study of teenagers and peer pressure. The design of the study was simple. They brought groups of ten adolescents into a room for a test. Each group was instructed to raise their hands when the teacher pointed to the longest line on three separate charts. What one person in the groups of ten did not know was that the other nine had been instructed ahead of time to vote not for the longest line, but for the second-longest line.

Do you get the picture? Regardless of the instructions they heard, once they were all together in the group, the nine were not to vote for the longest line, but rather vote for the next to the longest line. This left the tenth student being the only one who would be voting for the longest line. Guess what happened. Time after time, this tenth student would glance around, frown in confusion at the way the others were voting, and slip his hand up with the group. The instructions were repeated and the next card was raised. Each time, the self-conscious stooge would sit there saying a short line is longer than a long line, simply because he lacked the courage to challenge the group. This remarkable conformity occurred in about 75% of the cases, and was true of small children and high-school students as well.

It's hard to say no to the crowd. And becoming an adult doesn't make it much easier. You may know the story of the woman who was interviewed by reporters on her 102nd birthday. When asked what was the best thing about passing the century mark, she answered, "No peer pressure!"

"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife ... wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" And all of us who are married said, "I will." Tucked away inside this vow is a promise to honor our spouses, to respect them, stand up for them, and hold them in high esteem. High esteem does not permit fooling around. Because of the high divorce rate and other statistics we read on marital fidelity, we are moved to ask, "What has ever happened to honor?"

Where is honor in the relationships of young people dating today? God has declared that our bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit. We are told that by the age of twenty-three, the majority of unmarried young adults have violated each other’s virginity and thereby dishonored the dwelling place of God’s Spirit. What has ever happened to honor?

In much of the business world today, doing the smart thing has replaced doing the right, honorable thing. Morality seems to be becoming a thing of the past like bobbysocks and bloomers. Foolish is the person who does the honorable thing and winds up with less profit because of it. Practical considerations have replaced principle-decisions. What has ever happened to honor?

When we love and honor the Lord completely without reservation, we are also motivated by the Spirit to live lives that outdo one another in showing honor. The Christian should be an outstanding citizen. Today, God is saying to us, love and honor me. Be honorable in all that you do. Remember your marriage vows. Honor your spouses by caring for them. Don’t attack them by your words or your actions, but build them up. Do you love them? Tell them. Better, show them. Children, your parents are a gift from God to you. They make many mistakes, but they love you and want the best for you. Honor them, tell them you love them. Better yet, show them. The person with whom you work, those people you’ll meet later today, tomorrow’s companions through life, all need to be touched by your love and esteem, for through your love God wants to add wholeness to their lives. By your actions, your way of doing business, the way you move through life, may "honorable" become a description of your personality.

We can never overdo honor. Excessive honor is not possible. We can never show God superfluous respect and esteem. Once I asked a young child how much ice cream she wanted. Her answer was, "Give me too much." She obviously wanted a lot. How much honor are we to show the Lord and each other? A lot, or to put it in the child’s words, "Too much."

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.

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!"

He had just finished feeding the 5,000 men plus women and children when he asked them the question (Luke 9:10-17). In this context of feeding people (cf. Luke 24:28-35) Jesus asked his disciples, "Who do the crowds say that I am?" (Luke 9:18). We stand here at a turning point in Luke's story of Jesus. In earlier stories of Jesus' baptism, genealogy, temptation and a sabbath in his hometown synagogue Luke has given us all kinds of clues as to the identity of Jesus. After that there comes action. Jesus healed people. He forgave sinners. He called disciples. He challenged sabbath laws and so on. It's time now to return to the question of identity. Do even the disciples understand who this man is? Does anyone really understand?

The disciples answered Jesus question by stating the opinions of some in the crowds. Jesus' then zeroes in on the disciples themselves. "But who do you say that I am?" (Luke 9:20). "The Messiah of God," Peter answered.

And then Jesus did a surprising thing. He acknowledged that Peter had the right answer to his question. But he told the disciples not to tell anyone the truth of his identity. The coming of the Messiah would move Israel from one degree of glory to another. But Jesus was not to be this Messiah of glory. Jesus was to be a Messiah on a cross. Jesus tells it straight in a new revelation of his identity. "The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised" (Luke 9:22).

The disciples must have been stunned. They had glory on their minds, too. But, no, the way of this Messiah was to be a way of suffering for him and for the disciples. "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). The disciples never could get this through their heads. In the story of the transfiguration which Luke tells next we hear Jesus discussing the departure he would accomplish in Jerusalem. Jesus, that is, was discussing with Moses and Elijah his way to Jerusalem, his way to the cross. And the disciples? They wanted to build booths and live on this mountain of glory and transfiguration forever. They did not know what they were saying, Luke tells us.

This hardness of heart of the disciples appears again when they all come down from the Mount of Transfiguration. A man comes to Jesus in order that Jesus might heal his son who is possessed by a demon. "I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not," the father says to Jesus. Jesus proceeds to wonder aloud about the faithless disciples. He tells them again, therefore, of his mission. "Let these words sink into your ears," he tells them, "The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands." Sadly Luke tells us of the disciples that, "... they did not understand this saying; its meaning was concealed from them, so they could not perceive it" (Luke 9:44-45). The disciples prove the truth of this statement by turning to a discussion among themselves about which one of them was the greatest. They're still thinking of glory!

Jesus has revealed that he must go to Jerusalem to suffer, to die and to be raised again. The disciples don't get it at all. With his heart heavy with the suffering that lay ahead, therefore, and with his mind puzzled by disciples who failed to understand, Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.

While it is wonderful that we set aside one day to especially honor mothers, let us reflect for a moment on all of the things mothers do for us.  First of all, they bring us into the world through a biological miracle that is amazing, but certainly not easy.  Then they spend the next two decades preparing meals, solving problems, kissing boo-boos, helping us learn everything from how to brush our teeth to how to navigate the difficulties of the "real world."  They spend the rest of their lives fretting and worrying about us.  They care for us in a way that is beyond words.  They sacrifice for us in ways beyond words.  Even after they have passed on, and Mother's Day can be especially difficult for those of us who have lost mothers, their influence is so powerful that it stays with us always.  I propose that one day is not enough.  One day is nice, but it is not enough.

So while we take this day to especially honor mothers, let us think of it as a planning day.  How can we honor our mothers, grandmothers, mother-in-laws, and aunts each and every day?  How can we recognize their special contributions to our lives every day?  Let us take a moment to jot down five ways we can truly honor mothers, from our own mothers to the young mothers in this congregation, to the mothers who might be missing their grown up kids, to mothers who may have passed away. (Give a few moments to allow individuals to jot down their list.  You may provide a few moments at the end of the sermon or at the end of the service to return to these lists and allow people to share their ideas with each other.)  Now, let us make a commitment to honor these women every day of the year because one day is not enough!

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.

A friend shared with me a beautiful legend about a king who decided to set aside a special day to honor his greatest subject. When the big day arrived, there was a large gathering in the palace courtyard. Four finalists were brought forward, and from these four, the king would select the winner.

The first person presented was a wealthy philanthropist. The king was told that this man was highly deserving of the honor because of his humanitarian efforts. He had given much of his wealth to the poor.

The second person was a celebrated physician. The king was told that this doctor was highly deserving of the honor because he had rendered faithful and dedicated service to the sick for many years.

The third person was a distinguished judge. The king was told that the judge was worthy because he was noted for his wisdom, his fairness, and his brilliant decisions.

The fourth person presented was an elderly woman. Everyone was quite surprised to see her there, because her manner was quite humble, as was her dress. She hardly looked the part of someone who would be honored as the greatest subject in the kingdom. What chance could she possibly have, when compared to the other three, who had accomplished so much? Even so, there was something about her the look of love in her face, the understanding in her eyes, her quiet confidence.

The king was intrigued, to say the least, and somewhat puzzled by her presence. He asked who she was. The answer came: "You see the philanthropist, the doctor, and the judge? Well, she was their teacher!"

That woman had no wealth, no fortune, and no title, but she had unselfishly given her life to produce great people. There is nothing more powerful or more Christlike than sacrificial love

The king could not see the value in the humble lady. He missed the significance of the teacher. Often we miss the value of those around us. I think it would surprise us to know how often we miss the presence of Christ just as Cleopas and his brother missed the significance of the stranger on the road to Emmaus.

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.

In 1937 architect Frank Lloyd Wright built a house for industrialist Hibbard Johnson. One rainy evening Johnson was entertaining distinguished guests for dinner when the roof began to leak. The water seeped through directly above Johnson himself, dripping steadily onto his bald head. Irate, he called Wright in Phoenix, Arizona. "Frank," he said, "you built this beautiful house for me and we enjoy it very much. But I have told you the roof leaks, and right now I am with some friends and distinguished guests and it is leaking right on top of my head." Wright's reply was heard by all of the guests. "Well, Hib, why don't you move your chair?"

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.

It may come as a surprise to Christian listeners, who are used to thinking of Pharisees as hypocrites and enemies of Jesus, that in this passage it is Pharisees who warn Jesus to flee from Galilee because Herod wants to kill him. Not all Pharisees were hostile to Jesus. While Jesus and the Pharisees did not see things eye to eye, we find in Luke and Acts that Pharisees are often in the company of Jesus and not always antagonistic. Jesus is often invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner (Luke 7:36, 11:37; 14:1). In Acts 5:33-39, when the Jewish Sanhedrin wanted to kill the apostles, a well-known Pharisee, Gamaliel, counsels them to be careful how they treat these men. If the undertaking of the apostles is of human origin, Gamaliel says, it will fail; "but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them in that case you may even be found fighting against God!" Some Pharisees had even become Christians (Acts 15:5). And of course we know that Paul himself was a Pharisee. In fact, in his defense before the Sanhedrin he uses the present tense and says, "I am a Pharisee" (Acts 23:6).

Foe three weeks the minister announced in the church newsletter that a called meeting of the Administrative Board would be held to consider enlarging the church kitchen. For three weeks, the same announcement appeared in the Sunday worship bulletin and was repeated verbally from the pulpit. On the appointed date, the board met, deliberated the details, and voted to move ahead with the kitchen project. Construction was soon under way. One morning, a member of the board happened by the church and was curious to know what all the commotion was about in the kitchen. It was explained that the kitchen was being enlarged. The board member was irate. "Who authorized that?" he demanded. He was informed that the Adminsitrative Board had met and unanimously approved the project. "Why didn’t I know anything about the meeting?" he snapped hatefully. That was a good question, considering he had been in church each Sunday the announcement was made and the newsletter had carried the same information into his home for three successive weeks. Why do people not pay attention? Are they (we) preoccupied, disinterested, along for a free ride, or just simply contrary? For whatever reason, it is both disconcerting and annoying to be ignored repeatedly.

Jesus and his disciples were on their way to Jerusalem and, in what was actually his third announcement of his approaching death, Jesus said: "Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles; and they will mock him, and spit upon him, and scourge him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise" (10:33-34). James and John, the sons of Zebedee, had not heard a word of it! Immediately, their ambitions, which doubtless they had been stroking while Jesus had been speaking, came to the front. En route to a human sacrifice, they dared to ask for places of honor in the kingdom (10:37). They were indeed, as the writer of the hymn, "Are Ye Able?" describes them - sturdy dreamers.

Jesus taught that to seek places of honor is to be off on the wrong trail; service is the objective. "The Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (10:45)..

James Moore was invited to participate in a "Career Day on Campus" at one of the colleges in the Southwest. He was asked to be part of a panel discussion. Panelists were to discuss, "How Faith Influences Your Choice of a Career." First, panelists were asked to introduce themselves and mention their particular vocations. It was all rather routine. One woman gave her name and said, "I'm an attorney." A man gave his name and said, "I'm in business. I own a computer company." A woman gave her name and said, "I'm in real estate." When it was Dr. Moore's turn he said, "I'm a minister." The person seated next to him was a doctor. The doctor's statement changed that mundane situation into a special and sacred moment.

The doctor addressed the students, "We are here today to talk about vocation." He told them that the word vocation actually meant "calling." "Well," the doctor told them, "my calling is to be a Christian...and one of the ways to do that is through the practice of medicine." James Moore reflected afterwards, "That doctor wasn't being pompous or arrogant. He was a humble man who had a strong sense of partnership with God." His life was a success, but his first priority was service. Jesus said, "All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted." The Pharisees had forgotten their true sand elevated themselves above their calling. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Cost of Discipleship dissects the phrase: Jesus must suffer and be rejected. He pulls out three significant teachings:

1. What is about to happen must happen.
2. What is about to happen is - Jesus will suffer
3. What is about to happen is - Jesus will be rejected

Bonhoeffer continues: This "must" is inherent in the promise of God - the Scriptures must be fulfilled. Next, there is a distinction here between suffering and rejection. Had he only suffered, Jesus might still have been applauded as the Messiah. All the sympathy and admiration of the world might have been focused on his passion. It could have been viewed as a tragedy with its own intrinsic value, dignity and honor. But in the passion, Jesus is a rejected Messiah. His rejection robs the passion of its halo of glory. It must be a passion without honor.

What does the cheating scandal at the U.S. Naval Academy say about military honor? Many years ago, Navy investigators reported that 81 midshipmen had obtained a copy of a 1992 engineering exam before exam day and that many of them then lied during an internal investigation, some to protect classmates. Former Assistant Secretary of Defense Richard Armitage, who chaired a review of the academy's honor code, blames the widespread cheating on the Navy's emphasis on skills like technical proficiency over character development.

A 1967 Annapolis graduate, Armitage notes that one point of honor is still pounded into all midshipmen from Day 1: "Never bilge (endanger) a shipmate." That credo cuts two ways, says James Q. Wilson, author of The Moral Sense. It explains why some midshipmen betrayed their personal honor by lying to protect their classmates; but, says Wilson, those same people will never let their buddies down during times of war. He adds, "I wouldn't worry that this indicates a decaying moral fabric of the next generation of military officers."

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."

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.

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.

A young seminary graduate came up to the lectern, very self-confident and immaculately dressed. He began to deliver his first sermon in his first church and the words simply would not come out. Finally he burst into tears and ended up leaving the platform obviously humbled.

There were two older ladies sitting in the front row and one remarked to the other, "If he'd come in like he went out, he would have gone out like he came in."

Jesus calls us to a real trust in God and to humble service in his church and world. The temptation is ever before us to exalt ourselves - to impress others, to make a name for ourselves. That was not how Jesus came, nor was it why he came.

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.

According to the story, Queen Victoria was once at a diplomatic reception in London. The guest of honor was an African chieftain. All went well during the meal until, at the end, finger bowls were served. The guest of honor had never seen a British finger bowl, and no one had thought to brief him beforehand about its purpose. So he took the finger bowl in his two hands, lifted it to his mouth, and drank its contents--down to the very last drop!

For an instant there was breathless silence among the British upper crust and then they began to whisper to one another.

All that stopped in the next instant as the Queen, Victoria, silently took her finger bowl in her two hands, lifted it, and drank its contents! A moment later 500 surprised British ladies and gentlemen simultaneously drank the contents of their own fingerbowls.

It was "against the rules" to drink from a fingerbowl, but on that particular evening Victoria changed the rules---because she was, after all, the Queen. It is "against the rules" not to wash your hands before you eat and on that the Pharisees called the hand of the disciples who follow Jesus. But Jesus recognizes their hypocrisy and he quotes from Isaiah, "These people honor me with their lips but their hearts are far from me."

Tolstoy told a story of a Czar and Czarina who wished to honor the members of their court with a banquet. They sent out invitations and requested that the guests come with the invitations in their hands. When they arrived at the banquet the guests were surprised to discover that the guards did not look at their invitations at all. Instead they examined their hands. The guests wondered about this, but they were also curious to see who the Czar and Czarina would choose as the guest of honor to sit between them at the banquet. They were flabbergasted to see that it was the old scrub woman who had worked to keep the palace clean for years. The guards, having examined her hands, declared, "You have the proper credentials to be the guest of honor. We can see your love and loyalty in your hands." 

A similar story is told of the great missionary to Burma, Adoniram Judson. Judson went to the King of Burma to ask him if he might have permission to go to a certain city to preach. The King, a pagan, but quite an intelligent man responded, "I'm willing for a dozen preachers to go but not you, not with those hands. My people are not such fools as to take notice of your preaching but they will note those calloused, work scarred hands. I worry that you will turn the whole kingdom to your god."

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.

The love for equals is a human thing--of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing--the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing--to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy--love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.

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?"

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.