”FOR THOSE WHO DESPAIR”
Luke 18: 1-8
October 18, 1998
A clergy friend once shared the despair he felt while working in the Civil Rights movement in the ’60s. There was a point where everything seemed to go wrong. Many of his Southern friends disagreed with him. His congregation suggested he look for another parish. And he was on the verge of quitting the ministry. One day, in the midst of his difficulties, he sat down with an old Rabbi, a neighbor, and he told him of his frustration and lack of support from his parishioners. The old Rabbi responded to this tale of woe by saying, “My boy, for the Jew, there’s only one unforgivable sin, and that is despair. To say any situation is hopeless means you’ve given up on God. Humanly speaking, the old Rabbi said, despair is presumptuous. Religiously speaking, despair is heretical.”
This morning’s sermon is directed to those in the congregation who have felt the dregs of despair; who have been trying as hard as they could, but are now worn out; who are feeling that God, or anyone else, couldn’t care less about their situation.
The parable that we read in this morning’s Gospel was almost left out of the New Testament. It’s only mentioned in Luke’s version and seems almost an afterthought. It is rarely the subject of a sermon. Very little is found in commentaries. We have all heard about the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son. But this unnamed woman, this parable of the persistent widow, is seldom mentioned. We read it quickly and tend not to think about it; for what does a woman who makes a pest of herself have to do with us?
The story is squeezed in near the time of the crucifixion. Jesus tells his friends that there are rough times ahead. And the Disciples become fearful, so he tells them this parable. It’s almost as if this smaller story interrupts the larger story of Jesus heading for Jerusalem. The bigger canvas talks of God’s intervention, in listing God’s saving acts, of God’s great love. And then we are told of an unnamed, insignificant widow. But then again, the Bible is like that. Little stories of insignificant people are crowded into the margins of the larger canvas. Little stories that speak to the fragments of our lives. Listen to the story again, and see if it doesn’t become a story that speaks to your depths. Listen to it as a parable that was given at a time when the friends of Jesus were close to despairing.
In a city, not unlike Tucson, lived a woman who was devout, a churchgoer. A widow who had been through some rough times caring for a husband who died at an early age. This woman was fairly unsophisticated, trusting people, and believing that people were basically honest
and decent. Sure enough, she was taken advantage of, duped. And she quickly became a victim of someone’s greed. Now, we don’t know the details of the story. But, much we do know. We know that her life wasn’t the way she had planned it. We know that some injustice had been committed. But we are also told that she refused to lie down and settle for simply being a victim. Instead, she continues to cry out until she gets the attention of the authorities. She keeps looking for justice in a world where justice is a diminishing commodity.
Moving back into the parable, we hear that she takes her grievance to a judge. A busy judge whose case load is filled to the brim. The judge doesn’t have time for a widow’s problems. His court calendar is booked with really big crimes.
We read that the woman persisted. She did not give up when she received the first or second rejection. She pays off. The judge rules in her case. No longer is she simply a victim. Her loss has been restored. ‘
A modest story, but beneath the very ordinariness stands a learning. A learning that reminds us not to settle for being a victim, for God will answer our prayers. It’s a story that says, that despair need not be the last word. That persistence can overcome tragedy, and that hope can triumph over even great obstacles. ,– – –
Recently, I met with the Wardens. We talked about the future vestry. Sunny Bal, our people’s Warden, is collecting names for possible candidates in January. (If you have some, let him know.) I was asked, “What kinds of people should we be looking for?” Yd like to answer that question now. I think a vestry should be made up of people with hope. People who have the kind of faith that will persist and not give up when things don’t go their way. People who are like the woman in the parable, who in spite of obstacles, keep praying, keep moving forward, keep persisting, even when things aren’t going well.
Let me share an illustration of the kind of faith the parable commends to all who would understand. It comes from an old western that appeared late one night on TV. The movie was called Hard Times, Texas. It had a very simple plot. The town of Hard Times was just that. Nothing ever went right. The crops withered, the water dried up, and the people never got along. Finally, the town drunk burned the town down, and everybody packed up and left. They all said they had had it. All left except the old sheriff. He went out to the edge of town and sat at the side of the road. Whenever someone would pass by, he would say, “I have a dream. Fm going to rebuild this town, and I need your help.” After many such encounters, he gathered enough support to actually construct a new town. When the town was rebuilt and the people returned, the town drunk reappeared. You can guess what happened. (I told you it was a simple story.) He burned up the town again. The story ends with the old sheriff at the side of the road again, stopping a traveler and saying, “Hey, I’ve got a great dream. We’re going to rebuild this town, and I need your help.”
It’s that kind of commitment that we need on the vestry. But, not only on the vestry. We need that kind of faith, that kind of doggedness in our callings to serve God wherever we may be. We desperately need that kind of commitment. The commitment that trusts that God will hear our prayers even when things aren’t going well. We need that kind of faith that will not settle for what is, but continually hope and work toward what could be
There is no one within the sound of my voice who hasn’t tasted the bitterness of defeat, the effects of injustice, the unfairness of life. No one ever promised that we would live in a “Rose Garden” type of world. Yet, in the words of T. S. Elliott, ‘We are only undefeated because we go on trying.”
We go on trying to kindle kindness in a world that is at best uncaring. We go on trying to bind up wounds where the hurting ones outnumber the unscathed. We go on trying to overcome evil when darkness seems stronger than light. And when optimism dies, we live with hope. And we do this because we know that God will hear our cry, and our God walks with us.
What then shall we say to these things? if God be for us, who can be against us? Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or nakedness, or famine, or the sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us. For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor things present, nor things to come, nor any other creature can separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Amen.