Amos 8:4-7(8-12)
1 Timothy 2:1-8
Luke 16:1-13
Psalm 138
For those of us who make a profession out of explaining God this has not been an easy time. You pay me to know God and to know the answers. And there have been many questions and many fears and few clear answers.
"Where is God?" everyone asks. Amidst the overwhelming sense of abandonment, and the cries of "God, God, Why have you forsaken us!" we catch only glimpses:
These glimpses of God among the dust and ashes of our lives give us hope. And the hope shines brightly enough that even those who claim not to know God can see it.
The godly part of our American heritage surfaces; and those ideals cast aside our consumerism and individualism as lesser idols. Tragedy has stripped away everything but our deepest desires for the good: for love and peace, for freedom and community. People begin to use words like "liberty and justice for all." Newscasters, politicians, and entertainers talk about "spirit" and "love" and even "God." Candles are lit, strangers embrace, songs are sung, voices are raised in prayer.
"God bless America" is sung everywhere. We've discovered that God is still around after all. (Thank God!) But there was another big question lingering: "What can I DO?"
In the midst of our fears and our tears, we had a great need to do something, anything, to help, to make a difference. Already on that tragic Tuesday people all over the world began to do three things: to pray, to give blood, and to send money. It's a powerful combination: prayer, blood, and money.
That combination is right up front as we gather for worship today. Our second reading calls us to prayer, not just for ourselves but for everyone, "lifting holy hands without anger or argument." Today we gather at the altar, to find forgiveness through the blood of Christ. And in the other readings, Amos and Luke wrestle with how we use our money. Prayer, blood, and money. That's what we did.
We, the people, pray. The unimaginable had happened, and the almost universal initial response on Tuesday was, "Oh, my God!" Common enough words in our culture. My children used to say that casually, "Oh, my God." and my response usually was, "Oh, are you praying again?" Ah, how irritating mothers can be! It was almost enough to stop their casual use of the phrase.
But in this time of tragedy, those unthinking words became true and deadly serious. In those first moments there was nowhere else to turn, nothing else to do. So we prayed hard. People who hadn't been on speaking terms with God for years, turned to prayer with tears and helplessness, with fear and then anger. Prayer may be the most powerful thing we can do. It brings us all together with God, into communion; and it will bring forgiveness. We, the people, pray.
And we, the people, give blood. It is truly the gift of life. Sure, prayer is real, but we need to do something concrete, something we can see and touch. Blood is warm and powerful and part of our own bodies; blood is real life; blood is a prayer incarnate. People all over the world lined up to give life to New York, to Washington, to America. We, the people, give of our bodies.
And finally, we, the people send money. Our money is perhaps as powerful a symbol of our lives as our blood. Our money can mean our next meal or a roof over our head. Our money is a sign of our work, and we use our money to show what we value most. We put our money where our hearts are. A gift of money can be a gift of life and we know it. Old and young, rich and poor, this week we, the people, gave money.
The unimaginable happened. And we, the people, united and responded to the tragedy with a powerful spirit of life. Heroes at ground zero and ordinary people thousands of miles away. We looked for God's presence and many found it. We prayed, we gave part of ourselves, and we shared our money.
And now the message throughout America seems to be that, as far as possible, we should go back to our normal lives. This, too, is a powerful symbol: A return to normal life shows that no terrorist is going to destroy our lives or our spirit.
Yet we have been through a kind of resurrection. After that, can we really return to normal?
Many this week have, it seems, been faithful in much. In overwhelming heartbreak and great need, many have chosen to serve God rather than wealth, by turning to God in prayer, by giving of themselves, and by sharing their wealth. The tragedy and the response have been transformative in many lives. Can we hold on to something of what we've learned even when we return to "normal"?
God forbid that a tragedy on such a scale should ever happen again, but there are little tragedies, often going unnoticed, every day of our ordinary lives. Might not we, the people who have been faithful in much, now be faithful in little? Have we learned the godly power of offering prayer, blood, and money?
Must we wait for our leaders to gather at the National Cathedral in prayer over the agony of thousands? We can be faithful in the little things: a quiet prayer at home for a cancer patient in the local hospital, opening our church for a regular midweek prayer service, or inviting others to Sunday worship.
Do we have to wait until the lines at the Red Cross stretch out into the street? We can be faithful in the little things: Have you seen the blood donation poster with the young girl asking, "Are you the one who saved my life?" That's not a little thing. Showing up regularly every 56 days to give blood is the little thing. Or offer you body to give life in other ways: help build a house for Habitat for Humanity, hug a friend, or sign up to clean our church next month.
Do we wait for another horrible disaster before we share our wealth? We, the people of America, are by international standards, incredibly wealthy. Some would say sinfully wealthy and that money, not God, is the master we serve. Yet last week a tiny, impoverished town in Montana took up a collection for New York City; and a homeless beggar in New York emptied his begging cup into the money collection at the Red Cross.
Our money is a symbol of what we value and a powerful tool for making a difference in the world. We can be faithful in the little things: we can sponsor a third-world child, we can stretch our charitable giving to tithing and beyond, we could even build a welcoming and accessible space next door for God's use in our community
In this heartbreaking tragedy, many – even some dishonest stewards – have chosen to serve God rather than money. Let us hold on to that choice.
As our lives return to "normal," on every ordinary day of our lives, let us continue to ask those important questions: "Where is God?" and "What can I do?"
Let us keep looking for God in new and surprising places. And when we do find where God is, there is always something we can do: we can pray, we can give part of ourselves, and we can share our wealth.
We have been faithful in much.
Let us now be faithful in the little things.