Courage

Dear Friends,

In this week’s gospel passage we are given the story of a woman who, driven by her passion for justice, keeps going before a judge. The judge does not care much for her or her cause, but to get rid of her agrees to rule in her favor, “so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” Jesus compares God to the judge, saying that God, too, will respond to those who cry out day and night. (And perhaps leaving us to wonder if God, too, gets worn out from our continual bothering. A question for another day.)

What strikes me the most about this passage is the woman’s determined spirit. We are told that she is a widow, who, in ancient Palestine, was at the lower end of the social ladder; women had few if any legal rights unless connected to a male family member. She represents all who do not have personal or societal power. It is doubtful that anyone is seeking her advice or kowtowing to her status or wanting to please her. It is unlikely that anyone notices her much at all. Yet she keeps going before the judge with absolute authority, sure of her purpose. She goes willingly, doggedly, insistently, despite the judge’s lack of interest and concern. She goes because, as the story tells us, “she does not lose heart.”

As I consider how this story relates to my own life, I see it as a precautionary tale as much as a reminder to be faithful. Yes, it reminds me not to stop crying out to God day and night, never to stop coming back and coming back and coming back to the courtroom of grace. And it cautions me as well: Don’t lose heart. Don’t lose heart.

The Latin word for “heart” is “cor” – the basis of our word “Courage.” Next week we will be announcing our Stewardship theme, and I’ll give you a hint: it has to do with courage! And as I reflect upon all that we have weathered together this past year, as a congregation, I’m reminded of a meditation I read years ago:

“Every suffering valley we pass through, each mournful mountain we climb, wears us down some. Some portion of our courage, our patience, our humor, our willingness to take the risk of being vulnerable again, our faith in the goodness of God, litter the path, remnants of what might have been.”

Yet here is our advocate, the widow, who seems to say, “You’re not as worn out as you thought. Get to it! Justice awaits!” One of the most vulnerable people in her community, most deserving of self-pity, she chooses a different story. So can we. We can choose to see our lives as an accumulation of losses, or we can celebrate with the widow that we still have a part to play. We still have enough of the most important part - good heart.”*

In Christ,

Amelie+

*”Inward/Outward,” Year C, October 2019.