The Prophet's Reward
Sermon
PENTECOST FIRE
PREACHING COMMUNITY IN SEASONS OF CHANGE
Children are sometimes the best teachers one can imagine having. At six, my son has figured out that behavior unbecoming of him has consequences. He has also figured out that behavior above and beyond the call of duty can have certain rewards. A bedroom cleaned extra well or dishes unexpectedly cleared from the table and washed can have a reward of sorts. The reward could be an extra half-hour of television beyond the allotted hour per day. It might be a walk with Dad to the ice cream parlor on the corner for a double dip cone. Or it might simply be an affectionate hug and a "thanks for the good job." But whatever it is, he has learned that there are rewards for good behavior.
This is the way of the world, isn't it? At our jobs, in our families, and in our other relationships, we generally function on this notion of actions and consequences. It's a system, if you will, of rewards and punishments. It seems crude, almost cruel, to put this way, but there it is. While unfairness and injustice surely exist and while exceptions can certainly be raised, it is safe to say that if we work hard and perform well on our jobs, things generally go well for us. If we focus on our families, giving them the love and attention they deserve; if we are intentional about treating our spouses, our children, and our siblings well, then things -- most of the time -- tend to go well.
We have learned to expect this, and in our social context have codified both the rewards and the punishments. Pay scales are usually tied to performance evaluations and length of service. Even pastors understand that a series of churches served well will lead to bigger churches and hence larger paychecks. On the other hand, the post office regularly hosts series of photos displayed prominently where everyone can see them. The rewards here are abundantly clear.
Rewards and punishments. They punctuate our lives and walk with us through most of our days. Each of us can relate stories of ways in which we have felt rewarded in our lives. A friend who is partial to jigsaw puzzles feels rewarded when a large puzzle is completed. A pastor in a nearby town works on restoring antique cars as a hobby and feels rewarded when he completes work on an old Model A pick-up truck. Some people involved in the ministry of the church feel rewarded when they participate in visitation ministries or when they give a day to Habitat for Humanity.
For us, the notion of reward has taken on a sense that it is something extra. We get a reward if we have done something a little special. A reward is over and above what usually takes place for us. A reward is given for exceptional work or behavior. But as we think about the notion of reward as it relates to scripture, we need to reshape our thinking. Chapter 10 of Matthew, our text for this morning, speaks of reward.
"Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."
This passage is our focus for today, but in truth, the Gospel of Matthew seems keen on the notion of reward. It's mentioned eleven times from chapter 5 through chapter 10 of Matthew. We are offered all kinds of ideas about reward. "Rejoice and be glad for your reward is in heaven ..." (5:12). "If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have?" (5:46). "Don't practice your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven" (6:1). "Whenever you give alms don't blow a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets so that they can be praised by the others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward" (6:2).
It's interesting to note that through all of this, the Greek word misthos (mistjos), which actually refers to a wage or amount paid for hire, is used consistently. So the reward that we wish to explore today is not the kind of reward we see in the post office, though some prophets seem to attract that kind of thing. It's not necessarily something above and beyond -- something extra -- for our troubles. It is, instead, understood as the wage paid, the recompense for work completed.
This being so, what are we to think about the prophet's reward? What are we to think about welcoming a prophet or a righteous person -- or even a disciple of Jesus Christ? What is it that we are paid? What is our wage? Our recompense if we welcome one of these into our homes or our communities? Are we expecting a wage? Do we wish or want to be recompensed for offering welcome? What is the normal pay? That's what most people would ask. "What's union scale for a Prophet's welcome?"
More than thirty years ago, Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan and his brother Phillip participated with seven other people in the burning of draft records in Catonsville, Maryland. This was a prophetic act. The people who did this were prophets speaking God's truth about a horrible war being waged a half a world away. As a result of this and other actions, and for reasons we won't go into today, Father Dan, as his students often called him, decided not to turn himself in to the authorities, and went, instead, underground. For quite a while Father Dan led the FBI and other federal agents on a merry chase. For months this prophet of God was welcomed by scores of people. They fed him, housed him, drove him to meeting spots. Finally, after months of being "on the lam," Father Dan was arrested at the home of a close friend. He then spent an extended time in Danbury Prison.
The prophet's reward.
Were all the people who gave Father Berrigan refuge sent to prison? Did they receive the prophet's reward? No. But quite honestly, it wasn't because the FBI didn't wish it so. Indeed, had J. Edgar Hoover had his way, they would have all been locked away as enemies of the state.
It's a challenging concept to engage, and an interesting thing to consider.
And as we do so, let us have a degree of clarity. We are called to welcome the prophet and the righteous among us. We are called to open the doors to disciples of Jesus Christ. We are expected to offer hospitality, in fact, as a basic tenet of who we are as Christians. There's no way around it. It is our calling. It is our commitment. It is, as people of faith, our responsibility.
But what, we ask, is our reward? What, to render it into an accurate portrayal of the Greek, is the payback? And, perhaps more uncomfortably for us, are we willing to go there?
If a young man in the military was about to embark for duty and discovered that he couldn't in Christian conscience kill a fellow human being, would you welcome him? Hide him? Give him refuge? And if so, what would be your reward? If a righteous person, an activist struggling for workers' rights, sought refuge from the authorities in your home, would you offer a place to stay? Would you prepare a meal? Would you offer clean clothing and transportation? Think of all those who sheltered the thousands of people who resisted apartheid in South Africa. Think of those who gave shelter to workers in the American Underground Railroad. Consider those who have sheltered refugees, illegal aliens running from violent and corrupt governments in Latin America. What is to be their reward? What would be our reward if we actually took the risk of this kind of hospitality? The answer should be abundantly clear.
Finally, we must address the third person in this interesting Trinity. Would we receive a disciple of Jesus Christ? It's a powerful testimony to notice that a Christian disciple is mentioned in the same verse as a prophet and a righteous person. Are we to infer from this that Christian disciples should be prophetic and righteous? Are we to assume from this that it is a Christian duty to struggle for peace and social justice? To wage a righteous struggle for what is right and good in the world? Are we actually to take it upon ourselves to offer aid and sustenance to those who have committed their lives to this kind of work, this type of ministry?
In seminary they say that preachers aren't supposed to give the answers. A good preacher poses the questions and leaves the congregation to ponder the answers. But friends, today an answer accompanies the questions.
It is absolutely and unavoidably the duty, the responsibility, and the privilege of every Christian to engage in the struggle for social justice and peace. It is the calling of a justice-loving God that each disciple of Jesus Christ be a prophet and a righteous person. We are in all of our moments as individuals and community and in each of our days as faithful followers of Christ to welcome the prophet, to welcome the righteous, and with them in solidarity to pursue the building of a world of hope and new life, a kingdom where God's peace and equity will reign.
And, yes, we can expect the prophet's reward. We can expect the ire of the powerful and the anger of those who are "in charge." But we can also expect the joy and wonder that accompany those who risk God's justice and love. We can reap the rewards of those who walk toward healing and wholeness in the world, a reward of knowing that you -- in this moment -- are doing what is right and good in the presence of your God.
This is the prophet's reward. This is the cold cup of water, the loving touch, the breath of a wonderful Savior. Amen.
This is the way of the world, isn't it? At our jobs, in our families, and in our other relationships, we generally function on this notion of actions and consequences. It's a system, if you will, of rewards and punishments. It seems crude, almost cruel, to put this way, but there it is. While unfairness and injustice surely exist and while exceptions can certainly be raised, it is safe to say that if we work hard and perform well on our jobs, things generally go well for us. If we focus on our families, giving them the love and attention they deserve; if we are intentional about treating our spouses, our children, and our siblings well, then things -- most of the time -- tend to go well.
We have learned to expect this, and in our social context have codified both the rewards and the punishments. Pay scales are usually tied to performance evaluations and length of service. Even pastors understand that a series of churches served well will lead to bigger churches and hence larger paychecks. On the other hand, the post office regularly hosts series of photos displayed prominently where everyone can see them. The rewards here are abundantly clear.
Rewards and punishments. They punctuate our lives and walk with us through most of our days. Each of us can relate stories of ways in which we have felt rewarded in our lives. A friend who is partial to jigsaw puzzles feels rewarded when a large puzzle is completed. A pastor in a nearby town works on restoring antique cars as a hobby and feels rewarded when he completes work on an old Model A pick-up truck. Some people involved in the ministry of the church feel rewarded when they participate in visitation ministries or when they give a day to Habitat for Humanity.
For us, the notion of reward has taken on a sense that it is something extra. We get a reward if we have done something a little special. A reward is over and above what usually takes place for us. A reward is given for exceptional work or behavior. But as we think about the notion of reward as it relates to scripture, we need to reshape our thinking. Chapter 10 of Matthew, our text for this morning, speaks of reward.
"Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."
This passage is our focus for today, but in truth, the Gospel of Matthew seems keen on the notion of reward. It's mentioned eleven times from chapter 5 through chapter 10 of Matthew. We are offered all kinds of ideas about reward. "Rejoice and be glad for your reward is in heaven ..." (5:12). "If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have?" (5:46). "Don't practice your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven" (6:1). "Whenever you give alms don't blow a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets so that they can be praised by the others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward" (6:2).
It's interesting to note that through all of this, the Greek word misthos (mistjos), which actually refers to a wage or amount paid for hire, is used consistently. So the reward that we wish to explore today is not the kind of reward we see in the post office, though some prophets seem to attract that kind of thing. It's not necessarily something above and beyond -- something extra -- for our troubles. It is, instead, understood as the wage paid, the recompense for work completed.
This being so, what are we to think about the prophet's reward? What are we to think about welcoming a prophet or a righteous person -- or even a disciple of Jesus Christ? What is it that we are paid? What is our wage? Our recompense if we welcome one of these into our homes or our communities? Are we expecting a wage? Do we wish or want to be recompensed for offering welcome? What is the normal pay? That's what most people would ask. "What's union scale for a Prophet's welcome?"
More than thirty years ago, Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan and his brother Phillip participated with seven other people in the burning of draft records in Catonsville, Maryland. This was a prophetic act. The people who did this were prophets speaking God's truth about a horrible war being waged a half a world away. As a result of this and other actions, and for reasons we won't go into today, Father Dan, as his students often called him, decided not to turn himself in to the authorities, and went, instead, underground. For quite a while Father Dan led the FBI and other federal agents on a merry chase. For months this prophet of God was welcomed by scores of people. They fed him, housed him, drove him to meeting spots. Finally, after months of being "on the lam," Father Dan was arrested at the home of a close friend. He then spent an extended time in Danbury Prison.
The prophet's reward.
Were all the people who gave Father Berrigan refuge sent to prison? Did they receive the prophet's reward? No. But quite honestly, it wasn't because the FBI didn't wish it so. Indeed, had J. Edgar Hoover had his way, they would have all been locked away as enemies of the state.
It's a challenging concept to engage, and an interesting thing to consider.
And as we do so, let us have a degree of clarity. We are called to welcome the prophet and the righteous among us. We are called to open the doors to disciples of Jesus Christ. We are expected to offer hospitality, in fact, as a basic tenet of who we are as Christians. There's no way around it. It is our calling. It is our commitment. It is, as people of faith, our responsibility.
But what, we ask, is our reward? What, to render it into an accurate portrayal of the Greek, is the payback? And, perhaps more uncomfortably for us, are we willing to go there?
If a young man in the military was about to embark for duty and discovered that he couldn't in Christian conscience kill a fellow human being, would you welcome him? Hide him? Give him refuge? And if so, what would be your reward? If a righteous person, an activist struggling for workers' rights, sought refuge from the authorities in your home, would you offer a place to stay? Would you prepare a meal? Would you offer clean clothing and transportation? Think of all those who sheltered the thousands of people who resisted apartheid in South Africa. Think of those who gave shelter to workers in the American Underground Railroad. Consider those who have sheltered refugees, illegal aliens running from violent and corrupt governments in Latin America. What is to be their reward? What would be our reward if we actually took the risk of this kind of hospitality? The answer should be abundantly clear.
Finally, we must address the third person in this interesting Trinity. Would we receive a disciple of Jesus Christ? It's a powerful testimony to notice that a Christian disciple is mentioned in the same verse as a prophet and a righteous person. Are we to infer from this that Christian disciples should be prophetic and righteous? Are we to assume from this that it is a Christian duty to struggle for peace and social justice? To wage a righteous struggle for what is right and good in the world? Are we actually to take it upon ourselves to offer aid and sustenance to those who have committed their lives to this kind of work, this type of ministry?
In seminary they say that preachers aren't supposed to give the answers. A good preacher poses the questions and leaves the congregation to ponder the answers. But friends, today an answer accompanies the questions.
It is absolutely and unavoidably the duty, the responsibility, and the privilege of every Christian to engage in the struggle for social justice and peace. It is the calling of a justice-loving God that each disciple of Jesus Christ be a prophet and a righteous person. We are in all of our moments as individuals and community and in each of our days as faithful followers of Christ to welcome the prophet, to welcome the righteous, and with them in solidarity to pursue the building of a world of hope and new life, a kingdom where God's peace and equity will reign.
And, yes, we can expect the prophet's reward. We can expect the ire of the powerful and the anger of those who are "in charge." But we can also expect the joy and wonder that accompany those who risk God's justice and love. We can reap the rewards of those who walk toward healing and wholeness in the world, a reward of knowing that you -- in this moment -- are doing what is right and good in the presence of your God.
This is the prophet's reward. This is the cold cup of water, the loving touch, the breath of a wonderful Savior. Amen.
