Windows and Widows and Other Transparencies : Sermon for October 20, 2019

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 

He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, "Grant me justice against my opponent.' For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, "Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.' " 

-Luke 18:1-5

I’ve got this friend named Sebastian. Sebastian is just an incredibly wonderful human being. 

He’s Warm. He’s Loving. And he’s full of joy.  

In fact he so full of joy that when he comes into a room and walks over to you and says “hi” or whatever, he’s the kinda guy that that joy kinda just overflows and spills out all over you and all over the place. And then you can’t help but laugh or at least smile a little bit. 

His joy is contagious. 

He is a gift. 

And so, for a very long time, I've looked up to Sebastian as something of a hero. 

Someone I might aspire to imitate.  

+++

Some years back, Sebastian got sick. 

And it seemed like it was gonna be a potentially fatal disease. 

And around the same time, Sebastian also became broke, 
and becoming broke, 
he was also at risk of getting kicked out of his apartment.

And so Sebastian decided, weighing the circumstances, 
that the best thing for him to do (in order to stay sort-of financially afloat) 
was to become a beggar. 

But it wasn’t so easy even to become a beggar for Sebastian. 

You see, Sebastian had been raised to believe that begging, 
and not the systemic injustice and inequality that drives people to beg, 
was something folks who beg should be ashamed of. 

Sebastian had been raised to believe that begging, 
and not the systems that produce beggars 
was something he should be ashamed of. 

So instead of becoming a beggar proper, with a cup and a sign, 

Sebastian became that other guy:

He became the guy who hangs out at 95th Street and the Dan Ryan with paper towels and a squirt bottle, (and sometimes a squeegee) who, for a small donation, will wash the windows on your car. 

Sometimes he’ll wash them anyway, hoping you’ll be moved to make a contribution after the fact. 

+++

One day, when Sebastian’s sickness had let up a bit, 

and things were looking kinda better,

he and I were in a meeting together. 

By this point, we had established a pretty good relationship. 

And so after the meeting (because I had long been curious), I just asked him: 

I asked him “What’s it like?” 

What’s it like to be the guy with the squirt bottle and the paper towel and sometimes a squeegee at 95th and the Dan Ryan? 

What’s it like to be that guy? 

And this is what he said. 

He said “I don’t mind the people who say ‘no’ to me.” 

He said “I get that. Sometimes I don’t have money to give. Sometimes I don’t wanna always give what I have. Sometimes I’ve got five dollars in my pocket and I could spare two, but I really want a $5-footlong for lunch. So I don’t give.”  “I get it,” he said. 

And he said “I even get that people with kids are kinda scared of me.” 

He said, “If I had a car with kids in it and I saw me walking toward me, I get it: I’m a big, weird dude… I might lock my doors on me, too.” 

He said, “I don’t even really mind anymore if people give me a dirty look or call me some name.” 

That happens… 

“But here’s the thing,” he said.

He said “The worst feeling ever…” 

He said “…the worst feeling in the world, is when people pull up their car right next to you,” he said, “and then they just look at the red light or at the radio [or maybe today we look at our phones, right?] and they pretend not to notice you, when they don’t acknowledge you,” he said, “when they act like you don’t even exist.” 

He said “It’s the worst feeling in the world when folks act like you 

don’t 

even 

exist.”  

He said “It’s the worst feeling in the world when folks act like you 

don’t 

even 

exist.”

+++

There are probably a lotta reasons why the Judge in today’s Gospel story might have simply looked past the woman who came to him, and why he refused even to notice her even as she approached his bench. 

It’s possible that it was simply because she was a woman. 

It’s possible that is was because she was poor. 

It’s possible that it’s because she was Jewish and he was Roman and he thought very little of people from her ethnic or religious background. 

Right? It’s possible that he was being racist and sectarian and sexist. 
It happens, right? 
At least in my experience…

It’s possible that it was because she was poor, jewish, a woman, and a widow. 

And it’s possible that it was because of her age. 

Perhaps she was very old, and young folks like this judge no longer took her seriously, 
as if being advanced in age somehow made her less intelligent or somehow… silly... or even dispensable... 

We don’t know why this judge refused to acknowledge her, except that it seemed to be a recurring defect in his character. 

Right? 

This judge, said Jesus as he told the story, “neither feared God nor had respect for people.” 

What’s worse, is even when he had the power and the ability to actually help real people (like this woman) the judge, it seems, more often than not, simply turned the other way. 

What’s worse, is even when the judge had the power and the ability to actually help real people (like this woman) the judge, more often than not, simply turned the other way.

He pretended that everything was OK. 

He looked at his phone. 

No matter how frequently she kept coming back…

Again and again and again and again…

This judge kept on acting as if this woman 

didn’t 

even 

exist. 

This judge kept on acting as if this woman 

didn’t 

even 

exist.

+++

One of the reasons our Christian faith

remains so incredibly important today, 

and one of the reasons it’s both counter-cultural, and therefore relevant (I think), 

in this day when we often refuse to listen-to or acknowledge the existence of- one an o/Other, 

is that this faith, according to Jesus, (and according to the Gospels), proclaims something pretty radical: 

Because this faith proclaims that 

If we are serious about wanting to encounter God, 

If we are serious about wanting to meet Jesus, 

If we actually really do wanna reach out and somehow touch the Divine, 

the way to do so is not by hiding or by looking the other way. 

But, says the faith of Jesus, if we are serious about wanting to encounter (or even to love) God,

We do do by being serious and intentional about encountering and loving one another. 

If we are serious about wanting to encounter (or even to love) God,

We do do by being serious and intentional about encountering and loving one another.

Amen? 

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” 

“I was hungry and you shared your food.”

“I was nearby—maybe I was even at your church—and you called me family without me even asking,” Jesus said. 

“I was on the other side of a stereotype, but you saw me, and not the stereotype.” 

“I was a woman in your courtroom who got in your face, 

and, finally, you granted me the justice that I need.”

“I was at your window with a squeegee and you said, ‘I love you, friend. And I’m so

glad 

that you even 

exist.’”