"We Cry Out: Wrestling with God"

Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost, Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4 and Luke 17: 5-10

St. Francis Feast Day and the Blessing of the Animals

St. Paul Lutheran Church, Arlington, MA

Vicar Samm Melton-Hill

Today we celebrate the life and love of St. Francis of Assisi. We know him as an animal lover and if we have seen depictions of him, he is usually found in creation, blessing a dog, or sitting stoically in his brown robes, with a cross in one had a dove in the other. This is the St. Francis we know and love and celebrate today. But, like with many things, sometimes distance makes the heart grow fonder.

While I love St. Francis, I think we’ve got him all wrong. We rarely hear his life story. He was a boy born to a wealthy family, whose father was a merchant. He was accustomed to a life of lavish comfortability. But as a boy, he had an odd obsession with war and longed to be a soldier. It wasn’t long until the opportunity to fight in a war was offered to him and he took it. He would soon learn that war was uglier and more brutal than he could have ever imagined. He, along with hundreds of other men, were quickly captured and taken as prisoners of war. The other men in his infantry, mostly poor peasants and the so-called undesirables of society, were promptly put to death. But, not Francis.

Perhaps, we know the ending of this story already. St. Francis, a man of wealth, and power, and privilege, who has the “right” skin color, speaks the “right” way, and wears the “right” clothes. And as with many privileged men in history, he does not have the same fate as his far less privileged peers. Instead, those that captured Francis, took note of the fine linens and expensive jewelry he was wearing and decided not to kill him, but instead to hold him for ransom. They figured he came from a family of money, one that could afford this ransom, and they were correct.

So, while Francis goes on to remain a prisoner for some time and becomes deathly sick, he eventually writes that he is having these visions during this time of sickness and imprisonment. In these visions he writes that hears the word of God giving him hope for the future. So, as the story goes, he is eventually returned to his family, his father pays this ransom and Francis has the chance to return home and back to his life as a wealthy merchant. However, he was changed during his time at war and as a prisoner and instead, decided to turn away from this life and commit himself to a life of poverty, caring for all of God’s creation.

I admit, I like this story of St. Francis. It is an oddly hopeful one. We see a man who risks everything, goes off to war, is forever changed, and comes home to serve God and vows to a life of poverty. It’s the ultimate conversion story.

But, I like this story for another reason too; It also reveals the systems, often invisible, that enable privilege to exist. Without his privilege, Francis is just Francis. Even in the 12th and 13th century, we see the ways in which the system works for this privileged man. His family support allows him to go fight in the war, his wealth is the very thing that saves his life, his education eventually helps him become a Friar. Without his privilege, like the hundreds of other men, St. Francis dies a nameless death in the face of yet another war. St. Francis is a beneficiary of the invisible systems of privilege, wealth, and even racism.

The redeeming part of the story of St. Francis is that he later goes on to use this privilege for good. He sees this violence and injustice around him and responds. He decides to do something. While, his way is of course not the only way and some may even argue not the best, this was St. Francis’ response to the violence.

Similarly, our readings for today also provide us with a glimpse into the way others have responded to violence and injustice. For example, our first reading from Habakkuk recounts the cries of the prophet Habakkuk.

To remind ourselves, the book itself is found in the Old Testament, just in the midst of the writings of other prophets. And while the book is small, it tells a big story. These are the writings of a man who is experiencing the injustice of his government and the fall of his nation. He is watching as Israel and Babylon argue, soldiers are marching into his town, are coming into his land, forcing him and his family and everyone he loves out of it. And so, in the first part of this reading, we hear his complaints, his laments, to God. He is asking, “Why are you not doing anything? Help!”

And in response to this, in the second part of our reading, we hear the response of God in which Habakkuk is provided this vision about what the future looks like. God tells the prophet, that the future is full of justice and liberation and though he can only see injustice and pain right now, justice is coming.

In both the story of St. Francis and the story of the prophet Habakkuk, we see two people crying out to God and in both stories, God responds. In tandem to one another, it seems the formula is cry out to God, receive vision from God, go on to a life that serves God. Of course, I am being a bit facetious here by oversimplifying the stories, but the similarity in the two should be hard to ignore. We hear this story of the privileged St. Francis and the story of the oppressed Habbkkuk, and the response of God in both.

What I like so much about these stories is how relatable the words of both men are. The words of Habakkuk sound familiar to me. He says, “God I am crying for help and you not doing anything? How long must I be in pain? Why are you making me suffer, why are you making me watch so much suffering? Where is the justice? If you are such a loving God, then why are you not doing anything?”

Many of us have likely uttered something similar before. If we turn on the news for just a second or scroll through our newsfeeds on our phones, the voices of those crying out are deafening. The youth are crying out, Greta Thunberg and those she has inspired are asking for something to be done about climate change. The survivors of Parkland High School have been begging us to pay attention to gun violence. The women and folx of the #MeToo movement are asking you to listen. The undocumented are begging us to see the evil of the system. People of color are asking us to see the injustice of the “justice” system, to watch the brutality of the police. All around us, people are crying out, and many of us are too, in our pain and suffering, we too are muttering the words of Habakkuk.

I believe there are two things we can learn in our ability to relate to the Habakkuk. The first is in God’s response, we learn that we can’t turn away. That looking away and simply ignoring the injustice, not watching the things that are hard to watch, is an injustice in of itself. And second, is something that the Jewish tradition has long valued. We have the ability and are encouraged to wrestle with God. Habakkuk’s crying out and criticism of God is not met with punishment, but instead is met with grace and encouragement. God responds in this way that makes clear that we are encouraged to continue wrestling with God, to continue asking these hard questions, praying that there will be an end to such injustice.

And God responds to us too. Just has she responded to St. Francis and Habakkuk, we too get to hear from God. As Christians, we find God speaking to us through the Word and the sacraments. In the bread and wine we energized and in the water we are inspired and supported by this community. God is speaking to us too, today.

In the Gospel reading from Luke, Jesus responds to the cries of his disciples. Since he uses the imagery of servants and slaves, perhaps it is easier for us to remember that such dynamics were customary in antiquity. We can honor this language of the text to better understand the power and privilege that Jesus is pointing to. At its core, Jesus is responding to the cries of his disciples, with the directive to “have more faith.”

If you’re like me, this is perhaps the least helpful advice. As a disciple, I feel like saying, “I’m trying to have more faith, that’s why I’m here! Just tell me how to do it and I’ll do it!” But, I believe at the core of this story, with the imagery of the dinner table, Jesus is reminding them that faith is found in community with one another. That faith is increased when we spend time with one another. That the reason the Gospel is so important, is because it provides us with people and a community to remind us of the grace and love of God, when we are having trouble seeing it ourselves. It is this lesson that your cries are echoed and heard by your community, that together, we can respond to those around us.

St. Francis’ ministry was not successful because he was a lone Friar, but it was successful because he inspired and was inspired by others. He was energized by his community, was energized by animals and nature and this is what kept him going.

Today, I wonder where you see hope in your moments in need? I wonder together with you about what your cries to God might sound like? What you hope God’s response would be? I wonder if you see the hope and the grace of God in the animals lining our pews today. If you feel refueled enough return back to a world of injustice. If you feel challenged enough to continue to ask the hard questions.

As we prepare to enter into the season of Advent, the season of waiting, I have been encouraged by my colleagues to wonder, “What can’t wait?” I invite you into this time of discernment alongside us. In the midst of our wrestling with God, what is drawing us in and demanding our attention now. As a community here at St. Paul, what can’t wait?

We end today with a prayer of St. Francis:

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.” Amen.

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Copy of Sermon with Cited Sources: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zNFgrQpIPeqENITYGcGpNPnIdR-ijC0XZosKSjEJXfw/edit?usp=sharing