July 16 - The Good News at Noon from Good Samaritan

Isaiah 55: 10-13
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

Matthew 13: 1-9
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!"

A Fox Hill Parable

So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown. It’s summertime in Wisconsin where God enacts one of the most unfair stories of nature.  It is the time of purgatory, even the Northern European Lutherans will agree with the Southern European Catholics on that one.  Summer is the time when you must atone for your sin of lying in the wintertime, like when a youngster complains about the cold and the snow and you launch into tall tales about walking home from school in blizzards, uphill, both ways, in bare feet; or about ice fishing in your shorts; or saying ‘Why I remember when it was so cold that your words froze in mid-air as soon as you spoke them and how much chatter and confusion there was in mid-May when they all thawed out.’

Yes, sir, those are stories that need repentance and God makes you pay for it with hazy, hot and humid, central Wisconsin summers.

Myrtle and Rose are the names of Pastor David and Judy Martin’s twin granddaughters, children of their son, David Jr., who left Fox Hill to go to college in Eau Claire and never returned.   He got a corporate job in Milwaukee, got married, and had the twins.  What brought them back to Fox Hill was the death this past week of Dudley Keil, longtime president of Fox Hill Savings and Loan (motto: “The more you save, the more we’ll loan.”) and longtime president of Fox Hill Lutheran Church.  (motto: “We’ve never done it that way before.”)

The pastor and council president had this kind of love/hate relationship.  Dudley Keil objected to almost everything Pastor Martin suggested, yet encouraged him to stay in Fox Hill for all these 35 years and even into semi-retirement because the pastor was so easy for him to control.

Young David had always been aware of and embarrassed by Mr. Keil’s manipulation of his father.  So after young David’s confirmation, he never set foot in that church again, causing his father to fear for his eternal soul.  Yet, here was David, Jr., returned home for Dudley Keil’s funeral.

On a hot and sticky Friday night, the twins were having a hard time falling asleep.  “Grandpapastor (that’s what they called their grandfather), Grandpapastor, tell us a story.”  Now, ask all the parishoners at Fox Hill Lutheran and they’ll tell you that Pastor Martin isn’t well known for his storytelling, and quality sermons were not high on the reasons for Dudley Keil wanting to keep Pastor David around.  He wasn’t at all talented in making up stories (always seemed like lying to him) nor did he know any good ones, except for Bible stories, doncha know.

Entering the guest room, he saw the twins sitting on their beds with their hands behind their ears.  “Briar and Thorn (he liked to jokingly call them that instead of Myrtle and Rose and it always made them giggle), what are you doing?”  Myrtle answered, “Daddy says, ‘if you want to really listen to something, you have to prepare your ears to hear.  That’s what they do in Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan!” he thought, “I know that’s the companion church for the Greater Milwaukee Synod, but what does their father know about Afghanistan?”  Rose then added, “Daddy learned that when he went on a mission trip to our companion synod. Then when your ears are prepared, you open your hands out to receive the word.”  Myrtle and Rose looked like two angels at prayer.  Pastor Martin couldn’t believe his son had taught them this.  So, for two angels in posture for receiving his word, he began to tell the parable of the sower.

“A sower went out to sow and as he did some seed fell on the path where the birds ate it up.  Some fell on rocky ground and quickly grew, but they had no depth and soon withered and died.  Some fell among the briers and thorns (and he gave Myrtle and Rose a little tickle – that’s why he had picked this story), and the weeds grew up with them and choked them out.  But some seed fell on good soil and yielded a rich harvest.  Let those who have ears listen.”  His two angels were in rapt attention.  In 35 years of preaching, no one had ever listened to him as well, in fact Dudley Keil almost always fell asleep during Pastor Martin’s sermons.

“Do you know what the seed is?”  he asked his grandchildren.  He remembered when he was that young thinking it was a baby.  “When Daddy tells us this story he says it stands for God’s Word,” answered Rose.  “Well, yes, that’s right!” said their grandpapastor.  Their father tells them this story?!

“Tell us another story, Grandpapastor!  Tell us the one about the boy who runs away from home and his father hugs him when he comes back home.  That’s Daddy’s favorite!”

“Well, how about that!  His son’s favorite story to tell his granddaughters is the Parable of the Prodigal Son, don’tcha know.  Maybe he had held onto his faith after all these years.  And he’s even continuing the telling of the Gospel story with his own children.”  Pastor Martin told the story and Myrtle and Rose soon fell fast asleep.

Pastor Martin thought about the calling hours he had attended for Dudley Keil.  The line for the viewing at Morton’s Mortuary Parlors led out the front door of the funeral home, down Oak Street and out Second Street, almost back out to Main.  It seemed that Dudley’s funeral had encouraged a lot of Fox Hill prodigal sons and daughters to return home.  Pastor Martin only hoped and prayed that all the exiles’ returns would be as revealing and welcoming to their parents as his son’s had been to him. That’s when he decided he would preach on the parable of the Prodigal Son for Dudley’s funeral service; for one of God’s own prodigals, Dudley Keil, was returning home to the welcome and loving embrace of his heavenly father.

Next to Morton’s Mortuary Parlors on Oak Street is Tiny’s Ice Cream Parlor and next to Tiny’s is Velma’s Beauty Parlor.  Oak Street was the busiest street in town yesterday.

All the sturdy women of Fox Hill had appointments at Velma’s Beauty Parlor in preparation for the funeral.  They figured if Mort was going to make Dudley look his best in death, they would let Velma give her best on them in life.  There they talked about the hot weather, the grieving Keils and stories of Dudley:  the money he had loaned to one family to give them a start on their home, and the family he had foreclosed on; the strong leadership he had given to Fox Hill Lutheran all these years, and his tendency to micro-manage the pastor and council.  With every new female canvass, came another story: good or bad, praising or condemning.

It was the always precocious children of Fox Hill who flocked to Tiny’s ice cream parlor.  They talked about the hot weather (seems everyone does), the Badgers baseball team, wishing they could swim in Lake Madsen but couldn’t because of some big funeral later that day.  Pastor Martin treated Myrtle and Rose to a raspberry snow cone and even had one himself.  They chatted on and on about all the fun they had last week at Vacation Bible School playing “Wheel of Faith” with Old Testament Bible stories.  Myrtle had edged out Derek Lundgren with the phrase ‘Samson and Delilah’.  They were telling their grandpapastor stories about that generation of the Martin family he didn’t know about at all.

Later that day, it seemed the whole town turned out for Dudley’s funeral at Morton’s Mortuary Parlors.  Person after person got up to tell a story about Dudley, bittersweet and poignant, about how, despite his stern exterior, Dudley Keil had been a model and example of faith for them.

Pastor Martin preached on the return of the Prodigal Son to his loving father.  It was perhaps the best sermon he ever preached.  Dudley would have been surprised.  Even he couldn’t have found anything wrong with it.  He might not have fallen asleep during it, although he certainly wasn’t awake right now. Or maybe he was rolling over in his casket. He might even have wanted to keep Pastor Martin around just a little bit longer.

Yes, every parlor on Oak Street was busy yesterday.  “Parlor,” that’s a curious word,” thought Pastor Martin.  A funeral parlor, an ice cream parlor, a beauty parlor.  He looked up the word in his dictionary and found that it was actually a contraction of the Latin word ‘parabolare’, meaning to speak as in a parable.  A parlor is a place where stories are told, like in church or in the grandchildren’s bedroom.  How interesting!

That evening in the parlor of the former Lutheran parsonage, Pastor Martin cuddled Myrtle and Rose with one on each side of him in the love seat; as his son walked into the room.

“I’m surprised, and pleased, how involved you are in the church and how well you’re raising your daughters in the faith,” said Pastor Martin to his son.

“It was never God I was angry at,” said young David, “It was all the people in church – all the hypocrites.  But as I grew older, I realized that God gives the greatest story ever told to the worst storytellers and yet the good news goes on.  The seed is scattered by all kinds of sowers on all kinds of ground.  Sometimes it dies, but when it grows and blossoms and reaps a hundredfold harvest, it can be beautiful.

I’ve learned a lot from you, Dad.  You’ve been telling the old, old story for over 35 years now.  It’s not been wasted.  Isn’t Isaiah 55 your favorite Old Testament passage?  God’s Word shall not return empty, but it shall accomplish its divine purpose.  That’s God’s promise. It’s not been in vain.  Look beside you at your twin reflections – that’s not a Briar and a Thorn; that’s a Myrtle and a Rose.”

And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too.

Rev. James H. Slater
Emanuel Lutheran Church – Stuyvesant Falls
St. Luke’s Lutheran Church – Valatie
July 14, 2002
FAITHFEST 2002