Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost, 10/16/2016

Sermon on Luke 18:1-8, by Hubert Beck

And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart. He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor respected man. And there was a widow in that city who kept coming to him and asking, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’ For a while he refused but afterward he said to himself, ‘Though I neither fear God nor respect man, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will give her justice, so that she will not beat me down by her continual coming.’” And the Lord said, “Hear what the unrighteous judge says. And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version,

PRAYER – THE SIGN OF A LIVING HOPE

A Few Rhetorical Questions

I realize that the following questions are self-answering, but I dare ask them anyway: Do you think the world is just fine the way it is? Are you satisfied with it in its present condition? Even if you could change things, would you just leave them the way they are right now?

Or make the questions more personal: Are you happy with yourself just as you are without any changes? Is your life arranged just the way you want it to be? Are you content with yourself and everything about you just as they are right now?

If you can answer questions like these affirmatively then you have no reason to pray, for prayer is an expression of unhappiness, uncertainty, or insecurity with the way things are around one or within one – and, at the same time, it is a sign of living hope. Although there certainly are prayers of thanksgiving for blessings enjoyed, to pray is, by and large, to place before God things that are not as they should be, asking him to move them into the direction of becoming what they are meant to be in his eyes.

Reading the Parable As It Stands

If you do not see, feel, or wish things to be other than what they are, you cannot associate yourself with the widow in the parable before us today, for some things had taken place in her life that were very, very wrong and she desperately wanted those wrongs to be addressed in such a way that justice would be served.

Although it is easy to focus our attention on the judge who self-describes himself as one who neither fears God nor respects those around him, we do not do well to spend time or energy castigating him for being so wrongly suited to even fill the post of a judge, for he is only a foil for the insistently persistent cries for justice on the part of the woman. The judge’s disregard of the woman and her plea does not deter her, however. In fact, it only gives greater prominence to her requests – no, not requests – her demands to be heard whether the judge wants to hear her complaints or not.

The point of the parable, then, lies in the speaking and hearing of the woman’s entreaties. The reader is challenged to answer questions such as, “Why is the judge to whom the widow appeals said to be ‘unjust’? Her appeal is to a judge, whether ‘just’ or ‘unjust.’ Why is so much attention made to his lack of character? Will the judge finally listen to her or will he become so irritated that he has her arrested and ‘put away’ as a public nuisance? Will the judge’s patience wear thin in such a way that the widow will actually undo herself in such a way that she will be banned from ever coming near him again, thus destroying all hope of ever receiving the justice she so earnestly seeks? Questions such as these must be raised if we are to hear the parable as it is told to us. So let’s explore them a bit.

Turning the Parable Inside Out Reveals the Reason for Telling It as It is Told

Put it this way: Had the judge been a good and upright judge all the other questions would have been pointless. One would have the answer to the questions before they were asked! Any good judge would have understood the utter helplessness of a widow with nobody to plead her case. He would have looked upon the woman with sympathy and would probably have addressed her need posthaste apart from her continual pleadings. No, the judge has to be “unjust” to catch the true gravity of her pleas – and the necessity for repeating them over and over again with no response whatever. The very questions presented are, in fact, the fundamental bases upon which her unending expressions of unattended grievances is made necessary.

She knows the judge is unjust. He has a reputation to that effect. She knows the judge neither fears God nor respects any fellow human being. He has never hidden that fact. She knows that the likelihood of her case ever receiving a serious hearing is so remote as to be almost out of the question. He has never given serious attention to other cases similar to hers, so why should he hear her case? She is deeply aware of all that.

Still she “kept coming to him and saying, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’” Why? Because she firmly believes that she not only has a civil right, but even an absolute inner compulsion, to seek that which demands redress. She will not quit – in spite of the fact that her appeals never even come close to denting the wall standing between her impotence and the judge’s authority. Right is right, and she will not quit struggling to get that which is right set right!

The judge’s decision to grant her justice is more of an afterthought than a decisive action. To just get her off his back because she is making such a scene over the case is hardly a good reason for ending her badgering. He had other means to get rid of her. Nor is the protection of the integrity of his name, if that were possible, a proper reason to stop her continual coming. That is not a sound principled reason for responding to her. None of that is what brings him to the conclusion at which he arrives. The only reason he gives for doing so is her perpetual, unceasing, unendingly bothersome bids for a rightful conclusion to a wrongful situation she has encountered.

And Jesus (or is it Luke commenting on the words of Jesus? It is unclear.) says as much. “Will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you he will give justice to them speedily.” I.e., God, who hears the insistent prayers of his people will most assuredly see to it that things they bring to his attention will be dealt with in accord with justice and righteousness.

So you see – the judge before whom this widow appears at every possible opportunity must be unjust if the point of the parable is to be properly made – namely, that one who prays must continually do so, even – in fact, especially – when nothing happens, crying out for relief from the injustices inflicted on one day in and day out – without ceasing – or, as the opening verse of the text puts it, “always to pray and not lose heart.”

Do you see? We have been told from the beginning what we are to learn from this parable. But we get all tangled up in side issues, attempting to resolve questions that are really quite secondary to the parable, without listening closely for that in which Jesus intended to instruct us.

Two Unanswered Questions

There remain two unanswered questions imbedded in the text, though, and it is helpful to note them when one recognizes the point of the parable.

The first one has to do with the “adversary” who was troubling the widow. Was someone giving her trouble over a personal issue between the two of them? Had she been taken financial advantage by a shopkeeper or unscrupulous lender? Was she being harassed by a family member over an inheritance? We simply do not know.

And since we do not know that, we cannot know what kind of “justice” the unjust judge so grudgingly offered her. Nor do we know whether the widow’s grievances were successfully addressed or not once the judge gave her the hearing she so earnestly sought. “Justice” can work both ways, you know, and she may have been disappointed in the result of the hearing once given to her – or she may have been happy with the result. We do not know. We only know she got a hearing so that justice could be served.

Why even bother asking such unanswerable questions – questions, in fact, that really sound downright silly upon asking them? Why do so, then? Because through them we come to realize that the parable is about unceasing prayer, not about the answer to that unceasing prayer! So often one’s focus on prayer has far more to do with its “usefulness,” its “effectiveness,” with what kind of results prayers produce than it is on the simple need to pray.

Which, in turn, takes one’s interest momentarily in the direction of what is necessary to “make prayer truly work.” Strangely enough, that is the question many people attempt to answer in a number of ways. What did the widow do to finally get her hearing?

Did she squinch up her eyes when asking the judge for justice, thus showing the judge how earnestly she wanted that for which she asked? Does that help us get what we want?

Did she clench her praying hands together until the knuckles were white when she pleaded, thus making her prayer more “operative,” making it clear that she really, truly, sincerely meant that she wanted or needed that for which she prayed to be answered? Does that help us express a more “effective” prayer?

Did she find some extra “dose of faith” in her heart, making it impossible for the judge to deny her? Is that what we need (and, if so, how does one gain this “extra dose”?) to cause our prayer to be “successful”?

Surely you recognize all these and other ways by which we attempt to “get what we want” when praying – whether it be a return to health of a miserably sick loved one, a positive response to a job application, or the coming to a rightful sense of an alcoholic son. We have myriads of ways by which we hope to make our prayers more effectual, successful, useful, helpful, valuable, etc.

And why do we employ such varying “methods of praying”? It is obvious, is it not? Of course, we try very hard to evade the answer, but it is always there right under our nose. It is because we want our will to be done. That, after all, was what the bothersome widow wanted, was it not? But did she get it? We are not told in any terms other than that she got a hearing, which is what she sought. Which is as it should be, for that would otherwise turn the parable into a way to get what one wants when it is actually meant to be about “always praying and not losing heart,” which is what the widow was relentlessly doing throughout the parable.

Back To The First Questions

All of this brings us back to those questions with which we opened these deliberations on what Jesus intended to teach us in this parable. He told it immediately following a discourse on “The Coming of the Kingdom,” as some versions title this section, when he would return on the last day. He ends that homily on the note of the great surprise that will mark the time of his return, saying, among other things, “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it.” Which is little different from the way he ends this parable, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

And what is the mark of that faith to be found upon the return of the Son of Man? Prayer! Unceasing prayer. Prayer in the face of any outcome resulting from the praying – good, bad, or indifferent so far as human eye can see. Prayer against all odds. Prayer that insists on being heard, no matter what the result. Prayer that dares to be expressed even though and especially when there are no words that can really be found for that which one is praying. Prayer that gives itself over to none other than the Holy Spirit who “helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” ^{Romans 8:26, 27}

“Groanings too deep for words.” What a phrase! How comforting and helpful that phrase is! And yet how well it describes so much of our praying! For often we do not really know how to put our “groanings” into words. Often they are words of desperation, words that can really find no expression. Like the widow, we know there is an “adversary,” a foe lurking about in the background of life, threatening us in ways that are sometimes – even oftentimes – all but hidden. Sometimes – perhaps even often – we can name that enemy – a cancer, an indebtedness, a persistent doubt of some kind, a fierce onslaught of a particular temptation, an adversarial neighbor or child or even a spouse. Yes, sometimes the “adversary” can be specifically named. But more often not, for it is more “background noise” than a thing we can name!

Sadly enough, the same goes for things much more personal. We find the “adversary” to be our very own selves! We recognize Paul’s dilemma when he says, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” ^{Romans 7:15} It is as though he has held a mirror up for us to see ourselves! Are we really satisfied with ourselves as they are? Why do we find it so hard to change, to establish more godly patterns, to become more of what, in our best moments, we aspire to be? So we pray – and we remain mired in the same jumble from which we prayed to be released. Have we not prayed hard enough – often enough – with enough faith – with a true intention to change in the direction for which we prayed? What a miserable mess of humanity we have turned out to be! Why can we not, in the shoes of Jesus in Gethsemane, submit our wills to the one to whom we are ultimately responsible? The odds against our becoming what we want to be seem so great that we settle for what we are with no hope for a better tomorrow!

Equally often – or, more likely, even more often – that “adversary” is so formless, so nebulous, so vague that we do not know how to name it / him / her, but you know it is there in the shadows. Or it may be so distant as to make it beyond our real comprehension – the ceaseless warfare in the mideast, the terrible uncertainty of the economy, the miserable situation of refugees fleeing a homeland to which it is unlikely that they shall ever return, famine and hunger in different parts of the world and / or humongous numbers of other mental, physical, societal, or other such problems and troubles. One’s heart breaks at the sights of them on TV and the reports of them in the newspaper. But how to pray – for what to pray – with what words can we ask the Lord to mitigate such horrors – one is frequently at a loss. And they all seem so far from “solving” that one wonders why one should pray at all. All of them in their multifaceted ways defy prayer, for they all seem so impossible to address, so beyond hope for resolution that we fall victim to utter hopelessness.

One therefore, ever so easily – and ever so silently – sinks into silence before the multitude of such “beyond hope” things. One falls into a satisfaction with the present condition, for there seems to be no alternative. Even if one could change things, one hardly knows where one would start to effect such changes. Unhappy though we are with the way things are – or the way we, ourselves, are – we settle down into a satisfaction that is less than what we hoped for. So, “when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” It is a haunting question, is it not – especially since the question has been raised by Jesus in the shadow of the needy widow who would not shut up in the face of seeming hopelessness!

Hope In the Midst of Hopelessness

Jesus’ disciples wondered why Jesus seemed to just disappear from time to time, leaving them alone while he went away into an unidentified and undisturbed place. When they asked him about this, he simply told them that he had gone away to pray.

What did this one whom they believed to be God’s Son pray about or for? they wondered. Why did he need to pray at all? in fact. To what end was his prayer directed? they surely asked themselves.

In Gethsemane we get a hint concerning what he may have been praying about through all that time. In Gethsemane he prayed earnestly – almost in a last-ditch effort, it would seem – to be granted reprieve from that for which he had initially been born in Bethlehem. “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” ^{Luke 22:42} The more clearly and unquestionably over the course of time he saw his true – and really only – purpose for having been born, the more he realized what an immense “price” he was to pay by means of his incarnation.

Although we are told of three temptations at the outset of his public ministry, they were surely only an early summary of all the temptations that would pursue him throughout the coming months and years. He desperately needed to both be reassured that he unmistakably saw that for which he had come to earth and, still more importantly, that he would have the will and strength to carry out that intention to its bitter end. Therefore, and to that end, he “prayed without ceasing.” ^{1Thessalonians 5:17}

Like the widow, he prayed to a Father who refused to listen – at least, so it seemed – when he tirelessly asked to be freed from the horrifying end to which he had been assigned as it became more and more imminent. And always his ear was greeted with a terrifying silence. He would not stop praying like that until the absolute end of his life, but he remained devoted to him who had sent him to die for the sins of the world in spite of that stillness. Only when, on the cross, he cried out “It is finished” ^{John 19:30} was that for which he had come to earth completed, and so also was his unceasing prayer for release. The Father had finally spoken – and Jesus had heard him say, “Now justice has been served!”

The Judge, unjust though he seemed to be even in this case, requiring the death of an innocent man in order to free the guilty from their sentence, had heard his Son’s unceasing cry to the very end. But his answer was not in accord with that for which Jesus had sought through his ceaseless praying in all the time before this. The widow would have been proud of him, though, for he never quit praying until the very end!

There is a story about a bunkhouse of Jewish men suffering the effects of the holocaust who had finally lost all hope of ever leaving alive. They talked about it openly – and hopelessly. All, that is, save one, a faithful rabbi, who maintained the rituals of Jewish prayer life as best he could in this unaccommodating place. Finally it became too much for his fellow prisoners who mockingly asked him why he continued his practice of prayer since it was plain that they were all doomed. His response was along the following lines: “I know that all of you have lost hope of ever leaving here alive. Therefore you no longer pray. But I pray because it is the last barrier between me and the hopelessness to which all of you have fallen victim. I see all the signs of hopelessness that you do. But praying keeps hope alive. Whoever ceases praying ceases to hope. I pray in order to maintain hope, for I know to whom I pray. And hope is necessary if one truly wants to live.”

“Pray without ceasing.” One “ought always to pray and not lose heart.” The widow understood that as the rabbi understood it and as Jesus understood it. Against all odds she pleaded and implored and entreated and begged. Or, as Jesus put it in our text, “Will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily.”

When we look about us – or even within us – and feel that everything is whirling out of control, that things have gotten beyond repair or restraint – that is the time above all to pray for God’s intervention, for God to make his presence known, for one whose ear seems to have been denied a hearing, to nevertheless “give us justice against the adversary.” That is not a once-in-a-while prayer. It is not a now-and-then prayer. It is a persistent, continuing, determined prayer to him who alone has the power to change things, to alter them, to redirect them into his own way. It is like a widow who keeps coming before an unjust judge over and over again.

Such prayer is the mark and sign that hope still lives because we are sure that God is alive and well – in spite of all evidence to the contrary.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Lutheran Minister, Retired Hubert Beck
Austin, TX
E-Mail: hbeck@austin.rr.com

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