Father Gary’s Sermon

Inspired by Luke 16:19-31

Proclaimed on September 25, 2004

This is a story about two people who did not know each other. The first is a little seven-year-old girl named Harriet. She lived with her parents in Racine, Wisconsin. Recently Harriet’s grandfather died rather suddenly. She was sad because she never had an opportunity to say “good-bye” to this much beloved person.

One day Harriet attended a birthday party of one of her friends. While there she received a blue helium balloon. It was at this point that she received a most wonderful idea. She sat down and wrote the following note:

Dear Grandpa,

I hope this letter finds you happy with God. Since you have been gone I have thought about you everyday. I miss you. Second grade is fun. Polly had a birthday party and that’s where I got this balloon. Take care of yourself and write me a note.

Lots of love,

Harriet

P.S. If God doesn’t like homemade ice cream, just put it in the freezer. I’ll be up there someday myself.

She then put this letter in an envelop which she addressed: Grandpa Barnett, Heaven Up High” along with her return address on the back. The envelope was attached to the blue helium balloon. Harriet’s mother choked back her tears as the balloon was released.

Way over in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania lived a man named Henry. He had lost his wife five years ago. Following her death he entered a deep depression. Though a college graduate, he found no comfort in books. He took on a skeptical attitude to life and stopped attending church. He also stopped bathing, shaving, and wore the same cloths every day.

One day, while he was walking the fence that surrounded his fields, he found Harriet’s blue balloon caught in one of the rails. After reading the attached letter, Henry found himself very deeply moved. Later on he sent a response to Harriet. It read:

Dear Harriet,

Your grandpa got your letter and he’s doing fine. Since they don’t find it necessary to keep material things up there, he passed it down to me and asked me to write.

It was a nice thing for him to do. You see, I used to think that God didn’t care very much about his people. I figured it was up to us to make life as good as we could because that was all there was to it. But when your letter came to me, I realized how important it is for us to trust in some things that we can’t touch or see, . . . like you did when you sent you’re your grandpa that letter.

I just got home from church where our pastor made it a point to remind us adults that we’re never as smart as we think we are. He quoted a verse from the Bible where it says, “a little child shall lead them.” I just wanted you to know that your letter helped lead me back to God.

Oh, good news. God loves homemade ice cream and it’s OK because up there you can have as much as you want for as long as you want it.

Sincerely,

Henry Stuart (also a grandpa)

Harriet’s letter, as innocent as it was, became a bridge between God and Henry. Such a bridge is also the focus of today’s Gospel. As Jesus was making his last journey to Jerusalem, he had to pass through the town of Jericho. This was a very important place in that it was the home of the majority of the temple priests. They were the aristocracy of the Hebrew people of that day. They controlled the worship in the Temple, as well as the politics of the nation. In their unique position they served as a bridge between God and the people, as well as the bridge between Rome and the nation.

However, Jesus viewed these Sadducees as having abused their trust. To fulfill these often conflicted roles they developed a secularized theology in which they denied the existence of angels, life after death, and a morality that was relative and denied personal accountability. In essence, they developed a “gulf” between God and the Hebrew people.

Jesus confronted this “gulf” in his story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man lived in an opulent estate, wore a purple robe, and feasted sumptuously. Without judging this lifestyle, it was very clear to Jesus’ listeners that the rich man in question was a priest. They not only lived in such estates, but purple was the color of the cloths that priest’s wore. Furthermore, while the average person in this area only ate meat three times a year at one of the great Jewish festivals, a priest at meat regularly from the Temple sacrifices. Indeed, the priests of this time developed special diseases related to having too much meat in their diets.

Outside the gate of this priest’s estate was a beggar by the name of Lazarus. Sores that were licked by dogs covered him. This made Lazarus ritually unclean. If the priest were to touch him, he would have to suspend his liturgical functions in the Temple. Because of this his religion, originally meant to be a bridge to God, became instead an “unbridgeable gulf” as noted by Jesus in his story.

The question for us as we clean up from Hurricane Ivan is how this might relate to us. We are Episcopalians. As Episcopalians we represent much of our cultural aristocracy. Our ministers are also called “priests” who follow a sacrificial somewhat reminiscent of the Hebrew Temple. As a church we have adopted a theology that is intentionally both Protestant and Catholic. Indeed, we are known as the via media or “the middle way.” As such, we like to envision ourselves as bridge builders. Is this still true?

George Gallop reports that the evidence is clear that the mainline Protestant Churches in America, which are unofficially led by the Episcopal Church, are rapidly dwindling as the GI generation dies. The only churches reaching the younger generation are the Mega Churches, which tend to be fundamentalist, or the Roman Catholic Church. Indeed, he cites that the mainline churches will be all but gone by 2030.

The mainline churches are also losing members because they have adopted a secularized theology that denies the authority of the Scriptures, along with accepting a moral theology with no personal accountability. This has led the Episcopal Church to face the possibility of being “disciplined” by the greater Anglican Communion because of recent revisionist actions taken at the last General Convention regarding human sexuality. This discipline may entail a two-year probation, followed by expulsion if the Episcopal Church does not repent and change its ways. Could it be that we, like those ancient Sadducees, have become too compromised by our so-called inclusive culture, as well as too institutionally dependent on our liturgy and canons, to be able to serve as an effective bridge to God?

Hurricane Ivan may be giving us an opportunity to rediscover God. We must commit ourselves to rediscover what does God really value? How can we provide it once we know what God values? Then we must face the challenge as to whether it will be worth the cost?

As we clean up after Hurricane Ivan, we must consider rebuilding our faith. Like Harriet sending out her letter and touching the life of Henry, we must find new ways of becoming a bridge for others to God.